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diff --git a/old/64761-0.txt b/old/64761-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 3d2fc02..0000000 --- a/old/64761-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,16037 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Humour of Holland, by A. Werner - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Humour of Holland - -Editor: W. H. Dircks - -Translator: A. Werner - -Illustrator: Dudley Hardy - -Release Date: March 08, 2021 [eBook #64761] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: MFR, Richard Tonsing, and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from - images generously made available by The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HUMOUR OF HOLLAND *** - - - - - _HUMOUR SERIES_ - - EDITED BY W. H. DIRCKS - - - THE HUMOUR OF HOLLAND - - - - - ALREADY ISSUED - - _FRENCH HUMOUR_ - _GERMAN HUMOUR_ - _ITALIAN HUMOUR_ - _AMERICAN HUMOUR_ - -[Illustration: - - FANCY’S FAIRY TALE. - - [_See page 119._ -] - - - - - THE - HUMOUR OF HOLLAND - - -[Illustration] - - TRANSLATED, WITH AN INTRODUCTION, BY A. WERNER. - ILLUSTRATIONS BY DUDLEY HARDY AND OTHERS - - - LONDON - 1893 - - WALTER SCOTT - LTD - - - - - CONTENTS. - - -[Illustration] - - PAGE - INTRODUCTION ix - - THE KING’S DREAM—_Frederick Van Eeden_ 1 - - THE DOMINIE—_C. K. Elout_ 6 - - MY HERO—_Conrad van der Liede_ 35 - - NEWSPAPER HUMOUR 52 - - A RASCALLY VALET—_Multatuli_ 55 - - DROOGSTOPPEL INTRODUCES HIMSELF—_Multatuli_ 77 - - DROOGSTOPPEL PAYS A CHARITABLE VISIT—_Multatuli_ 83 - - APHORISMS—_Multatuli_ 90 - - OF SELF-DEPRECIATION—_Multatuli_ 93 - - OF EDUCATION, WITH PRACTICAL ILLUSTRATIONS—_Multatuli_ 94 - - GOING INTO BUSINESS—_Multatuli_ 112 - - TWO PARABLES—_Multatuli_ 113 - - THERSITES AND PLATO—_Multatuli_ 115 - - EGOTISM—_Multatuli_ 115 - - THE STORY OF CHRESOS—_Multatuli_ 116 - - THE FAIRY TALE THAT FANCY TOLD WOUTER—_Multatuli_ 119 - - HALF-AN-HOUR AT THE HAIR-DRESSER’S—_Anon._ 125 - - IN THE LITTLE REPUBLIC—_L. H. J. Lamberts-Hurrelbrinck_ 139 - - NEWSPAPER HUMOUR 173 - - FICTION AT SEA—_A. Werumeus Buning_ 174 - - NEWSPAPER HUMOUR 178 - - FARMER GERRIT’S VISIT TO AMSTERDAM—_J. J. Cremer_ 184 - - NO SWORD—“_Humoristisch Album_” 197 - - A STUDENT’S LODGINGS SIXTY YEARS SINCE—_J. Van Lennep_ 200 - - A COLONIAL PRIZE-GIVING—_Annie Foore_ 205 - - HOW MATHIS KNOUPS TURNED “LIBERAL” AND THEN “CATHOLIC” - AGAIN—_Emile Seipgens_ 212 - - NEWSPAPER HUMOUR 232 - - THE CANDIDATE—_T. H. Hooijer_ 252 - - EPIGRAMS 257 - - THE VILLAGE ON THE FRONTIER—_Van Lennep_ 261 - - PROVERBS 290 - - A DUTCH PODSNAP—_Gerard Keller_ 293 - - ROUGH DRAFT OF A NEW SET OF REGULATIONS—_Uilenspiegel_ 346 - - THE STORY OF A BOUQUET—_Uilenspiegel_ 347 - - UNBIDDEN GUESTS—_Annie Foore_ 351 - - BIOGRAPHICAL INDEX OF WRITERS 393 - - - - - INTRODUCTION. - - -There appears to be an idea abroad to the effect that the “Humour of -Holland” could be most satisfactorily dealt with in a chapter resembling -the famous one “Of Snakes in Ireland.” As the average English reader, in -the most favourable instances, knows little more of Dutch literature -than a name or two (Rembrandt has introduced us to “the poet Vondel,” -and if Southey were not so little read in these days Bilderdijk and Cats -would not be so unfamiliar), the subject offers a free field to the -constructive imagination. Yet even so, one would think it must be -obvious that the nation which has produced a Teniers, a Jan Steen, -and—in some of his moods—a Rembrandt, could not be entirely destitute of -humour. The estimate of its quality may be a question of taste; -but—though many people practically do adopt this form of logic—we cannot -make the fact of our not finding it to our liking a ground for denying -its existence. - -Of course, before determining what the humour of a nation is like, we -need to know what is that nation’s intellectual bent as a whole, and -what forces have been at work to determine its character. On this point -we may quote a paragraph or two from a Dutch writer, J. H. Hooijer, whom -we shall meet again in the course of these pages. He is describing a -village in North Holland, in the heart of the fat meadow-lands, famous -for the production of Dutch cheeses. - -“The same village which you find so depressing this November day,—so -damp, so clammy, so dripping with water,—makes a very different -impression when Spring, with full hands, has showered her blossom-snow -over the orchards, or in the autumn, when the trees are hanging full of -golden pears or rosy apples. Greener meadow-land is nowhere on earth, -unless it be in the Emerald Isle itself. The rich green pastures have -velvety lights in the sunshine, and the splendid cattle—their dappled -skins smooth and shining as silk—show out to advantage against it—colour -on colour. At such times there is a glow of colour in the whole -landscape, which, strange as it may sound, reminds one of the South,—a -glow one might almost think was stolen from the palettes of the Old -Masters. Every breath you draw is perfumed with new milk and flowers, -mingled with the salt smell of the sea. There is a fulness of outward -life—a bubbling up and overflowing of vital juices,—for which they had -an eye and a heart, those great old realists. The man who despises a -rich clover pasture, speckled here and there with white-fleeced sheep; -who cannot spare a look for the magnificent horned cattle that stand -staring at you, with dreamy, half-sad gaze, over the fence, while -Geertje’s black eyes flash at you from behind the milking-pail,—well, he -need not come to North Holland. Intellects of this sort, exclusively -devoted to the contemplation of the sublime, will find everything ugly -in these parts. To such an one our Old Masters have nothing to say; for -him, Paul Potter’s art is a mere waste of time, and many a racy bit of -Vondel trivial nonsense. Happily the cheery sun is of another mind, and -his smile falls well-pleased on the endless emerald plain. He nurses it, -feeds it, warms it,—he sweetens the blades of grass for the palate of -the pampered cow. And sometimes, just before setting, he draws along the -horizon, with purple finger, broad streaks of crimson fire, and then the -dykes flame out like ruby bands winding over the green velvet robe of -the earth, and you wish for the power of wielding the brush, so as to -throw on canvas what one might almost call these brutal effects of -colour.” - -Here we have a fertile country, with the means of existence in plenty, -but not one where it is easy to live without hard work. These rich -meadow-lands have been wrung from the sea by the painful toil of -centuries, and are only held by the tenure of constant vigilance. But -the struggle for existence is not hard enough to exhaust the vital -energies, and produce a stunted careworn race. There is abundance of -rough but wholesome food, such as results in strong limbs and clear -skins; there is leisure for dancing and play—rough horse-play though it -may be—when work is done; that there is a recognised place in life for -mere beauty and luxury, is shown in the gold head-ornaments of the -women. There are no mountains to suggest the sense of remoteness and -mystery; and the grey North Sea, with its sands and mud-flats, is rather -a fact to be accepted, a foe to be struggled with, in a grim -matter-of-course way from day to day, than the weird terror that the -ocean is to more imaginative peoples. But within the narrow and -well-ordered bounds of farm and homestead, there is a richness of colour -to fire the painter’s eye; the skies and sunsets are the glorious ones -that flame over fen and marshland, and winter brings the joy of -glittering ice and ringing skates. Life is and has been less bare and -hard than of old in Scotland; but on the whole, the history of the two -nations is somewhat similar, and they have many points of character in -common. - -Both learned thrift, endurance, and foresight in a hard school; both -early acquired the inconvenient habit of thinking for themselves and -dispensing with any mental spectacles save those of their own choosing; -and both displayed a bull-dog tenacity in holding by their hardly won -rights. But after the Reformation a marked difference becomes evident. -Scotland only emerged from the troubles of that epoch to encounter the -religious persecution of the Stuarts. The seventeenth century was -fruitful of heroism; it tried the national character as by fire, and -developed its sterner and deeper elements; it was not unfavourable even -to tenderness, of a rugged and undemonstrative character, but the -lighter side of life was left, for the time being, entirely in abeyance. -In the quieter time which succeeded the Union, reaction soon became -stagnation. The fiery earnestness,—call it fanaticism, if you -like,—which had been so tremendous a force in action and endurance, now -became a sour harsh bigotry, lying like a leaden weight on men’s lives. -It is one thing to be in such deadly earnest over an urgent crisis, that -you have no time or inclination to admire a picture or laugh at a joke; -it is another to forbid such enjoyment to other people, because it is -inconsistent with the attitude of mind proper to the crisis that is over -and past. We all have _les défauts de nos qualités_; and the mistakes of -reformers include a tendency to regard the conclusions at which they -have arrived as final, and an imperfect estimate of the relative value -of means and ends—in other words, the inability to see when a truth -(that is to say, any particular statement of a truth) has done its work. -This general state of flatness and dulness could only be ended by a -volcanic outburst,—and such a one came in with Burns. - -To return to Holland. The shaking off of the Spanish yoke was followed -by a period of peace and prosperity. Dutch ships had for some time past -been bringing home the wealth of the Indies. Dutch admirals were finding -their way into unknown seas. Colonies sprang up in the Spice Islands, -and the money gained by trade turned the swamps reclaimed from the sea -into flower-gardens, or covered them with stately buildings. Wealthy -burghers, even of the strictest Calvinist persuasion, did not appear to -find their Protestant principles an obstacle to the encouragement of -painters and poets. Roemer Visscher and his daughters, though members of -the defeated and unpopular church, kept open house at Amsterdam for all -who loved art and letters, and assembled round them the best wits of the -time. Gerbrand Bredero, painter and poet both, belonged to a respectable -burgher family, who—though grieved by the excesses of his riotous youth, -and sorely troubled by his contemplated marriage with Alida Jansdoter, -the pretty but characterless widow who kept the Toren van Monnickendam -tavern—do not appear to have mourned over his choice of a vocation, or -regarded his plays as anything to disapprove of. Joost van den Vondel, -the tragic poet (in whose genius some have found an excuse for -belittling that of our own Milton), was a deeply religious man; and -though he seems to have suffered from the aspersions of the religious, -it was not so much on account of his poems, as because he was a Baptist, -and they Reformed Calvinists. No doubt there _was_ religious bigotry in -Holland, but there were also elements of healthy life which kept it in -check. And there was a time when thought became dull and stagnant,—when -the dead-weight of the commonplace, backed by the double sanction of -social and religious orthodoxy, forced all individuality into its own -prepared mould,—when the Dominie looked with suspicion on every -independent expression of opinion, and the “Pious” kept a watchful eye -on the Dominie,—but that time was not yet. Betje Wolff, who suffered in -her youth from Cornelia Slimpslamp and Brother Benjamin,—and never -forgot it,—came in for part of it; but the worst was not till after she -and her friend Aagje had been laid to rest side by side. That was the -darkness just before the dawn; for surely there never was such a world -of dead forms and petty conventions, such a stifling atmosphere of cant -and artificiality, as that in which Multatuli spent his childhood. - -The humour of the Netherlands has, in common with that of Scotland, a -certain canniness and practical shrewdness, characteristic of men and -nations who have bought their experience at first hand and a heavy -price. But, whether for want of that touch of Celtic fire which in -Scotland has leavened the solid Teuton into a thing quite unique in the -world, or what else, there is a notable lack of that dryness and -terseness—that expressing more than the whole by means of less than the -half—which comes out in the best Scotch anecdotes and sayings. It would -be an insult to a listener of average intelligence, to explain, for -example, “It’s a puir shaw for Kirkintilloch.” We are not sure -that—supposing that the exact equivalent to this joke existed in -Dutch—the Netherlander would feel the insult deeply; we rather think he -would enjoy the story the better for a half page or so of comments in -addition to the full explanation. Of this nature are many jocular poems -by the revered Father Cats, and the “Zinne-poppen” of Roemer Visscher -and his daughter Anna. - -The Netherlander likes his fun pretty obvious, and not too concentrated. -And the main characteristic of the said fun is its breadth,—or rather -what the Germans call _Breite_, for the English word by no means conveys -exactly the same idea. “Long-windedness” alone does not express it; -Coleridge’s “nimiety or too-muchness” (which he calls a characteristic -fault in the German literary temperament) is much nearer the mark. It is -long-windedness combined with infinite multiplicity of detail,—a -gossipy, good-humoured, complacent triviality, which is the essence of -boredom. Voss’s “Luise” (which poem we doubt whether any British person -now living has read through) is a shining example of the quality. -Nothing is left to the reader’s imagination—everything, and the reason -for everything, is described and explained at full length, till the best -ideas are swamped in floods of formless verbiage. In Holland, this kind -of writing flourished most extensively in the seventeenth and eighteenth -centuries, and Father Cats, already referred to, exhibits it in an -excessive degree. He also shows an overpowering desire to be -improving,—another point common to the Scot and the Batavian,—and the -two things together made him, for two centuries, out and out the most -popular writer in Holland. - -As to “broad” farce, in the other sense of the word, Dutch literature -possesses a good deal of it, of such extreme latitude, indeed, as to be -for the most part entirely unavailable for this volume. Besides, it is -not amusing. The _Sotternieën_, or farces, of the Middle Ages, were of -an extremely rough and ready type, to say no more, though Dr Jan Ten -Brink accords them the praise of “accurate observation of Flemish low -life, and a real comic gift.” They mostly turn on matrimonial -difficulties, in which a foolish husband gets the worst of it. More or -less of the same kind, though of a somewhat higher type, were the farces -(_Kluchten_) of what we may call the Dutch Renaissance (c. 1550–1650). -They mostly turn on rough or even disgusting practical jokes; they are -written in clumsy, lumbering verse, which has the effect of encouraging -and intensifying the author’s natural diffuseness; in short, whatever -laugh-provoking power they may once have had, most of them are now quite -intolerably dull. The best known are those of Coster, Vos, Jan Starter, -Hooft, Huygens (who made one excursion in this direction—_Trijntje -Cornelis_), and, above all, Gerbrand Bredero, whose genius had not yet -reached its highest point, when his short and stormy life came to an -end. - -GERBRAND ADRIAENSZEN BREDERO was born at Amsterdam in 1585. His father -was a wealthy tradesman, at first a shoemaker, and afterwards farmer of -the taxes on wines and spirits. Adriaen Bredero was a generous patron of -art, and intended his son to become a painter; but the latter, though he -studied for a time, and appears to have shown some degree of talent, -preferred to devote himself to literature. He became a member of the -chamber, _In Liefde Bloeiende_,[1] and soon formed the acquaintance of -Spieghel, the didactic poet, and the genial Roemer Visscher, the -scholarly author of the “Zinne-poppen” and “Brabbeling.” An unhappy love -for Roemer’s younger daughter, Tesselschade, probably wrecked his life, -the greater part of which was spent in noisy dissipation, alternating -with intervals of deep depression. His work was both lyric and dramatic; -his principal plays are the tragicomedies of “Roderick and Alphonsus” -(1611), “Griane” (1612), and “The Dumb Knight” (1618), to which may be -added the unfinished play “Het daghet uyt den Oosten,” the farces of the -“Cow” (1612), the “Miller” and “Symen sonder Soeticheyt” (1613), and the -regular comedies of “The Moor” (1615), and “The Spanish Brabanter” -(1618). The last-named, his masterpiece, was intended to satirise (under -the name of Jerolimo) the Chevalier Theodor Rodenburgh, his rival in -literature and in a second unhappy love affair. From this bitter -disappointment Bredero never recovered. He died at the age of -thirty-three, after a lingering illness, tended with devoted care by his -mother, and comforted by the friendship of the gentle and earnesthearted -Vondel, whose religion was of a type to find easier access to the stormy -soul than the gloomy Calvinism of Bredero’s relations. For further -particulars of the poet’s life the reader is referred to the works of Dr -Jan Ten Brink, among others an interesting historical novel (founded on -contemporary documents) entitled “De Bredero’s,” which has appeared in -“Elsevier’s Geïllustreerd Maandschrift” for 1891 and 1892. Bredero’s -farces are rough, and even coarse—a defect from which his more elevated -work, such as the “Spanish Brabanter,” is not free; but this is a fault -common to the comic literature of all countries at that epoch. He was no -scholar, and though acquainted with French, did not know Latin, a -circumstance for which his writing is probably none the worse. His -comedy, “Het Moortje” (“The Little Moor”), is an adaptation of a French -version of Terence’s “Eunuchus,” and far inferior to the “Spanish -Brabanter,” which, though not absolutely original (the plot is to a -great extent taken from the Spanish novel “Lazarillo de Tormes”), is as -much so as most of Shakespeare’s, and full of life and vigour. It is -perhaps somewhat verbose, and the irregular kind of ballad-metre in -which it is written lends itself to indefinite _longueurs_; but the -character-painting is excellent. Indeed, Bredero’s chief merit is the -strong human sympathy shown in his broad, vivid pictures of popular -life. He gives us the life of the street in Amsterdam as he knew it—the -beggars, the scolding wives, the money-lender, the poor gentleman with -his frayed velvet doublet and rapier showing through its worn sheath, -the gossiping sexton, the boys playing at marbles. It is evident that -Bredero was on the right track, and, had he lived, might have produced -even better work than this play,—perhaps founded a new dramatic school, -which might have repeated in Holland the triumphs of our Elizabethan -writers. Dr Ten Brink compares him in his riotous enjoyment of life and -noisy excesses to Greene, Marlowe, and Massinger. It is difficult to -extract any single scene from the “Spaansche Brabander,” far and away -his best work; and, as, in fact, almost any attempt at translation could -reproduce only the faults of the original, it seemed better to avoid -courting inevitable failure. - -English influence made itself felt in Holland during the seventeenth -century in more ways than one. Huygens, who repeatedly visited England, -and knew Donne, shows traces of the “Caroline” manner in his poems and -epigrams. Intercourse between the two countries was frequent, and the -connection, of course, became closer still with their temporary union -under one sovereign. During the eighteenth century, Dutch literature -appeared to be on the wane. Foreign works—English and French—were -admired and read, and educated persons took a certain pride in -neglecting their native language as a barbarous and uncultivated tongue. -It was in a passionate impulse of patriotism that Mevrouw Betje Wolff -and Mejuffrouw Aagje Deken determined to enter into competition with the -universally popular Richardson, and prove to the reading public of -Holland that a Dutch novel, showing Dutch characters amid the everyday -surroundings of Amsterdam, Utrecht, or the Hague, might be quite as -interesting as any foreign importation. The result was the publication, -in 1782, of the “History of Mejuffrouw Sara Burgerhart,” which ran into -a third edition in 1786. - -ELIZABETH WOLFF and AGATHA DEKEN were two friends, affectionately spoken -of by their compatriots as Betje and Aagje, who lived and wrote -together, and collaborated so harmoniously that it is impossible to -distinguish their respective shares in the works jointly issued by them. -Elizabeth Bekker, born at Flushing, July 24, 1738, is described as “a -little delicate woman, with penetrating dark eyes, twinkling with -humorous mischief.” Her lively spirit maintained a hard struggle against -the harsh old-fashioned Calvinism of her Zeeland home, as represented by -her elder brother Laurens. It was probably to escape from this that, at -twenty, she married a “dominie” of fifty-two—the Predikant Adriaen -Wolff. In the quiet of the country parsonage she lived, happily enough, -from 1759 to 1777, devoted to her elderly husband, and with abundant -leisure for literature. During this period she wrote chiefly in verse, -and published several collections of poems; but, when left a widow in -1777, she invited her friend Agatha Deken to live with her. Agatha, -three years younger than her friend, was an orphan, brought up in the -Amsterdam “Weeshuis,” who had been living as companion with an invalid -lady named Maria Bosch, also given to poetry. The two friends first -essayed themselves in prose, by publishing “Letters on Various -Subjects,” in 1780, after which they gradually developed the idea of a -novel in letters, after the manner of Richardson. “The History of -Mejuffrouw Sara Burgerhart,” in spite of its somewhat repellent -epistolary form, remains capital reading to the present day. The book is -not so very long-winded, considering the epoch at which it was written; -the characters are clearly conceived and sympathetically drawn; and -there is a delicate humour which might almost be compared with Jane -Austen’s, but has a distinct flavour of its own. The portraiture of -Sara’s aunt, Mejuffrouw Hofland, and the designing parasites who make -her their prey—Cornelia Slimpslamp, and Brother Benjamin, the butcher’s -man turned preacher—reminds us of Betje Bekker’s bitterness against the -fanatical precisians (called by themselves “vromen,” or pious, and by -others “fijnen,” or subtle) who had darkened her youth. “Sara -Burgerhart,” published in 1782, was followed by a longer work, “Historie -van den Heer Willem Leevend,” which in some respects surpasses it. In -1788 the friends left Holland, in consequence of political changes, and -settled at Trevoux in Burgundy, where they remained till 1795, writing -“Letters of Abraham Blankaart,” and their third novel, “Cornelia -Wildschut.” Betje was robbed of her small property by a rascally man of -business; and, at the time of the Terror, narrowly escaped the -guillotine, being looked on as an aristocrat by the republicans of -Trevoux. They returned to Holland in 1795, settled at the Hague, and set -themselves to translating for a bare living. Their last years were spent -amid great financial difficulties and privations, borne with their usual -cheerfulness, and one cherished wish was granted them at last,—Betje -died November 5, 1804, and Aagje only survived her nine days. - -It is a pity that these books are not of a kind to show to advantage in -extracts. To be appreciated, they must be taken in bulk, as the -character-drawing, which is their chief attraction, only comes out -indirectly, and point by point, in the course of the letters. Which of -the two collaborators should be credited with the quiet humour—of the -type recognised as peculiarly feminine—which flashes through them, is a -disputed point, but it is usually attributed to Betje Wolff. Internal -evidence, and especially the history of her early life, seem to point to -her as having originated the character of Sara herself, the bright, -lovable, merry-hearted girl, so willing to submit to loving guidance, -but impatient of the gloomy restraint of Aunt Susanna’s house, which -called out all that was worst in her nature. Agatha Deken, we are told, -was a large, fair person, of calm aspect and portly presence—somewhat -prosaic and matter-of-fact—yet the description does not exclude the -possibility of a certain “pawkiness,”—and probably there is no hard and -fast distinction to be drawn between the two, as regards the humorous -element. And, however that may be, “Sara Burgerhart” is a charming book, -and deserves to be much more widely known than it is. Lovers of -“Evelina” would delight in its old-time quaintness, and even those -without an especial _parti-pris_ for the eighteenth century could not -fail to appreciate the delicately finished pictures of Dutch life. Some -points in this latter suggest the question whether many things which we -have been accustomed to consider as purely American manners did not -originate in the Dutch ancestry of the New-Yorkers. The comings and -goings of the young ladies at the Amsterdam boarding-house, under the -friendly (but to contemporary English notions very inadequate) -supervision of the Widow Spilgoed, _née_ Buigzaam, is one of those. -Others suggest themselves to an attentive reader of the book. But this -is only in passing. Decidedly, an English version of “Sara” with a -loving and appreciative introduction by a capable hand, would be an -addition to the pleasures of life. - -It is no part of the plan of this brief sketch—which aims throughout -at being suggestive rather than exhaustive—to furnish a comprehensive -introduction to Dutch literature, or even to that part of it to which -these pages are exclusively devoted. There is one point, however, -which we must not overlook. This is not the place—and perhaps, indeed, -the time has not fully come—to discuss the position which Multatuli -holds, or ought to hold, in his country’s literature; but it cannot -fail to strike any reader of this volume, that a large—perhaps -disproportionately large—number of pages is assigned to the work of a -writer cast in as un-Dutch, or even anti-Dutch, a mould as it is -possible to imagine. In fact, Multatuli stands as much alone among the -Dutch, as Heine does among the Germans; and, by the same token, we -might add, he is their only real humorist, in the highest sense. This -apartness is not to be accounted for in Douwes Dekker’s case, by -difference of race; but then, he was partly the product of reaction, -and there were, after all, strong race-affinities in the deeper parts -of his character. He had every quality calculated to jar upon the -feelings of the Amsterdam _petits bourgeois_ of his day: he had other -ideals than theirs; he would not be content to make money and abstain -from shocking the neighbours; he was nervous and imaginative in a -stolid and prosaic generation—lavishly extravagant in a prudent, not -to say parsimonious, one; but his passionate love of freedom, his -intolerance of shams, his resolute refusal to utter the shibboleths of -the age or bow before the idols of the market-place, proved him of one -blood with William of Orange and Marnix de Sainte-Aldegonde. And, had -he been as altogether isolated as he seems at first sight, he could -hardly have become the force in national life that he now is. His “Max -Havelaar” was like a volcanic outburst breaking up the crust of -convention which had been slowly stiffening over Holland; but it gave -voice to a cry which had been stifled in thousands of hearts. He -spoke, and the younger generation answered him as one man. To-day, in -Holland, Multatuli is a name to conjure with—a synonym for life, -thought, progress, revolt against convention—for everything that may -be called modernity. - -He was a crude, formless, unmethodical writer. “Max Havelaar” is one of -the most exasperatingly inartistic books ever written, and it must -always remain matter for regret that he never seriously took in hand to -complete and give artistic unity to the brilliant fragments that form -the unfinished history of “Woutertje Pieterse.” But there is life and -red blood in everything he wrote—and that counts for far more than dead -correctness of form,—though, of course, the perfect form _enshrining_ -the vitality gives it a chance to last longer. - -There is something in “Wouter” that reminds one curiously of the “Story -of an African Farm.” Not that we would infer that the latter was -suggested by the former—it may well be that its author was, at the time, -quite unaware of Multatuli’s existence; and the agonies of isolated -childhood are the same all the world over. But there are certain points -of resemblance which make us think that a similar environment—the -compound of dead Calvinism, Dutch pseudo-propriety, and crass -ignorance—produced similar results. Though, perhaps it was natural that -poor Wouter, dreaming on the bridge by the saw-mill at Amsterdam, should -have less lofty visions than Waldo, dreaming on the open veldt under the -stars. - -Wouter began his career in the story with a crime. He wanted very much -to read a book in the circulating library, but he had not the necessary -twopence. His mother thought little boys had no use for pocket-money. -Besides, circulating libraries did not enter into Juffrouw Pieterse’s -calculations from any point of view. But it was so deadly dull at home, -where there were no interesting books left unread—and no one was -supposed to want to read at all, except Stoffel, the elder brother, who -was a pupil-teacher, and preparing for an examination,—and he did long, -with an unspeakable longing, for the “History of Glorioso the Brigand.” -So he sold his Bible, with the paraphrases at the end, to a book-stall -man on the Old Bridge (this particular is never forgotten in subsequent -references to the misdemeanour, as though it had been an aggravation -thereof), trusting to the fact that the volume was not likely to be -inquired after on a week-day, to escape scot-free till Sunday. Which he -did; but with Sunday came discovery and swift retribution. But Wouter -did not mind that,—he had had his “Glorioso,” and was willing to pay the -price. That was not all, however;—this piece of juvenile depravity had -far-reaching consequences; but what they were will be discovered from -the extracts given in the text. - -There is infinite humour, as well as infinite pathos, in the description -of the poor, starved child-soul, to which even a trashy sensational -novel could give some sort of outlook into the ideal—for that was what -Wouter’s (after all very innocent) glorification of crime practically -amounted to. No better proof of the hold which Multatuli has over the -hearts of his countrymen could be given than the fact that many of his -characters have passed into proverbs. Juffrouw Laps, Dominie Pennewip, -the Hallemans,—“who were so very particularly respectable,”—and others, -are constantly to be met with in current literature. - -And yet, curiously enough, his views are almost entirely negative. He is -a preacher of revolt—a revolt often blind, illogical, inconsistent with -itself, and which, from our point of view, seems curiously out of -date—so that one is apt to forget he has only been dead six years,—and -he is seldom, if ever, a teacher of anything else. It proves how greatly -the revolt was needed, and what was the power of that Dagon of -convention against which he directed his blows. - -One word about the drama[2] from which an extract has been given. It was -one of his earliest works, being written at Padang (Sumatra) in 1843, -when he was little more than a youth; and he himself in later years, was -sarcastic enough at the expense of its “lachrymose sentiment” and -emotional idealism. Perhaps it does err by excess in this direction, -especially in Holm’s interminable monologues,—perhaps, also, the comic -scenes force the note a little, and are not free from the trick of -catch-words,—but the play, as a whole, is a capital one, and was, we -believe, very successful on the stage. He wrote another serious drama, -in verse, the “Vorstenschool,” which has never been acted, but perhaps -for political rather than dramatic reasons. It seems a pity that he did -not make more sustained efforts in this style of writing, which would -have chastened the formlessness above alluded to as marring his work; -but he seems to have been too impatient in getting his thoughts on paper -to submit to the necessary restraints. - -It will be noticed that this selection includes specimens from both -Dutch and Belgian writers. The fact is that Belgium, from a literary -point of view, scarcely exists. The written language is the same for -both countries, the differences being mainly local and dialectical. -After Brabant and Flanders had ceased to be Spanish provinces, and prior -to the Revolution of 1830, the two portions were respectively known as -Noord and Zuid Nederland. After 1830, the national language was, for a -time, entirely discredited, and Belgium threatened to become a mere -imitation of France, if not actually an appendage to that country. Of -late years a reaction has set in. A knowledge of Flemish is required by -law of all Government officials, except in those districts exclusively -inhabited by the Walloons, who are supposed to speak French, though in -fact, they discourse in a tongue which no mortal but themselves can -understand. - -There is an increasing number of Flemish papers,—the comic ones -especially doing valiant service on the national side. In 1883 a law was -passed rendering the teaching of Flemish (or “Netherlands,” as both -Dutch and Belgians prefer to call it) obligatory in all intermediate -schools. At Ghent University, moreover, all lectures are now delivered -in that language, as well as some of the courses at the Universities of -Brussels and Louvain. Straws show which way the wind blows; and, though -a trifle, it is a significant one, that the streets of Antwerp are now -labelled in Flemish, as well as French, and that public notices, -advertisements, &c., when not bi-lingual, are usually Flemish. - -The time of this linguistic reaction has also been one of revival in the -national literature. Maeterlinck, it is true, writes in French; and a -small coterie of less-known writers, calling themselves _La Jeune -Belgique_, have chosen that language as the vehicle of their -inspirations; but these do not represent the main current of the -national life. For a long time, Conscience stood almost alone as a -Flemish writer, and he was only known to the outer world through the -medium of French translations. Now we have, of poets, Pol de Mont, De la -Montagne, Hilda Ram, and Hélene Swarth, who, had she written in a more -widely known language, would be recognised as one of the world’s -greatest lyrists;—of prose-writers, Stijns, Virginie Loveling, Segers, -Smits, Van Cuyck, Anton Moortgat, Emile Seipgens, and many others. Not -all of them are available for our present purpose,—but some, as will be -seen, have been selected from. - -In conclusion, I would express my indebtedness for valuable information -kindly given by Mr Frans Van Cuyck, of the Public Library, Antwerp, and -author of “Twee Huwelijken,” “Sinoren,” and other works. - - A. WERNER. - - - - - THE HUMOUR OF HOLLAND. - - - - - _THE KING’S DREAM._ - - -[Illustration: - - “I STROLLED THOUGHTFULLY ALONG THE BEACH.” -] - -_King Bilbonzo_. It is well. We ourself now desire to make an important -communication to you. - -_Palaemon_ (_Prime Minister and Chancellor of the Kingdom_). We are all -attention. - -_King Bilbonzo._ It pleased us to have a very strange dream last night. - -_Courtiers._ Aha! - -_King Bilbonzo._ I dreamed, gentlemen, that I was on an island in the -midst of the ocean. My royal palace, surrounded by luxuriant gardens, -stood in the centre of the island. My whole retinue was assembled -there,—they were all laughing, dancing, and feasting. On all sides, -smiling faces, rustling silks, and waves of sweet dance-music. -Meanwhile, I strolled thoughtfully along the beach, reflected on the -bounties of nature, and picked up shells. - -_Courtiers._ Ah! - -_King Bilbonzo._ But suddenly the ground trembled under my feet. I -looked up, and perceived that the whole island was moving under me. It -heaved, rocked this way and that, rose and fell on the water, and, -finally, shot swiftly over the surface of the foaming sea. The beautiful -island, my lords and gentlemen, was a living, terrible sea-monster! - -_Courtiers_ (_in horror_). Ah! - -_King Bilbonzo._ My courtiers clung to me in terror. My head swam. -Suddenly the monster dived, and the sea at once destroyed the palace and -gardens. I myself, with a few faithful ones—you, my lords, among the -number—remained bobbing up and down, holding to an empty cask. But the -monster came once more to the surface, lifted a huge dripping mouth out -of the water, and swallowed us all. - -_Courtiers._ B-r-r-r!—most horrible! - -_King Bilbonzo._ However, after a short interval of oppressive darkness, -it cast us out again uninjured—and I found myself in my bed! - -_Courtiers_ (_drawing a long breath of relief_). Eh! - -_King Bilbonzo._ What is your opinion, my lords? Is this a prophetic -vision? - -_Palaemon._ It is a fact that the prophet Jonah, some time since, had -the honour of experiencing something very like what your Majesty has -just dreamed. - -_King Bilbonzo._ Does any of you think himself in a position to explain -this dream to me? [_All shake their heads._] - -_Palaemon._ Sire, I have been told that there is, at this moment, a -Spanish magician staying in our capital. Perhaps he might be able to -comply with your wish. I have already given orders to have this person -searched for—probably he has already reached the palace.... - -_King Bilbonzo._ Why! this is exceedingly interesting! Be so good as to -bring the man into our presence at once. - - [_Exit Palaemon._ - - _Enter_ PALAEMON, _and_ DON TORRIBIO, a _Spanish magician_. - -_Palaemon._ Here is the man. - -_King Bilbonzo._ Come nearer, my friend. - -_Don Torribio._ Who told you that I am your friend? Are you in the -thought-reading business too? - -_Homaris_ (_3^{rd} Minister_). This is an unmannerly customer. - -_Palaemon._ Do you know you are speaking to the King? - -_Don Torribio._ Why, yes,—I thought so. I presume no one else would wear -such a head-gear. - -_King Bilbonzo._ Silence, my lords!—this is evidently an eccentric man. -Let him alone. Magicians, fools, and poets have ever been allowed a -certain familiarity with princes. - -_Don Torribio._ You forget to add _fleas_, my prince. - -_Ministers._ Hush!—shame!—shame! - -_King Bilbonzo._ Decency! decency! - -_Don Torribio._ I assure you they are very decent well-behaved little -beasts, O King. They have never bitten you in your absence! They are the -most honest of your subjects. They have never taken anything from you -without informing you of the fact. There are not many like that. And -they are not at present suffering from hunger. Not many like that -either. - -_King Bilbonzo_. Silence, now! Do you know wherefore you have been -summoned hither? - -_Don Torribio._ Certainly. We are going to act a little play together. -You are Nebuchadnezzar, and I am Daniel. - -_King Bilbonzo_ (_to Palaemon_). I see your Excellency has already -enlightened him. - -_Palaemon._ Certainly not, your Majesty. - -_King Bilbonzo._ Ah! this is indeed surprising. Listen then, and I will -tell you my dream. - -_Don Torribio._ No, no—you need not let me off any of my part. I mean to -play Daniel entire—but I am not going to let you off the grass-eating, -either! Do you listen to me, and I will interpret the dream. - -_King Bilbonzo._ Well—this is astonishing! - -_Ministers._ Think of that, now! - -_Homaris._ All pre-concerted! - -_Don Torribio._ Gathering shells is an innocent and even laudable -employment,—but it should be carried on on a safe shore, and not within -reach of hungry sea-monsters. - -Every man—and more especially a king—ought to know what his house is -built on. - -If your house happens to stand—not on a rock foundation, but on the back -of a sleeping whale, you must not dance too vigorously, or you will -probably wake the brute. - -It is safer to swim about in the sea on the back of a shark, than to be -king of a famished people. - -The conclusion of your dream I will interpret to you after the -grass-eating. Now it is your turn. - -_King Bilbonzo._ This is really going too far! Our toleration has -reached its limits. Can you be wanting to sow discord between Us and our -beloved people? Out of our sight, impious liar!—this very moment! - -_Hyacinthe_ (_the Poet-Laureate—seated next to the King_). Majesty!—look -out for your crown! - -_King Bilbonzo._ Oh!—thanks! [_Sets his crown straight._] - -_Don Torribio._ _Omen accipio._ How do you wish me to disappear, O King? - -_Palaemon_ (_to a footman_). Fetch the lictors to remove this person. - -_King Bilbonzo._ My lords, you will agree with me that a man like this -is very dangerous to the State. - -_Homaris._ I had feared as much, Sire! He is a clever quack, and what he -sells is poison for the people. - -_Lepidus._ But his knowledge was something wonderful. - -_Homaris._ Tricks!—most likely there’s bribery at the bottom of it. - -_Hyacinthe._ Or else atheistic magic. - -_King Bilbonzo._ In any case, my Lord Palaemon, you ought to have taken -measures somewhat earlier to prevent his doing harm. - -_Palaemon._ He shall be thrown into chains at once. - -_Amenias_ (_4^{th} Minister_). It is really a case for capital -punishment. - -_King Bilbonzo._ No—our delight is to show mercy. When the judges have -condemned him to death, we will commute the sentence into penal -servitude for life. - -_A Footman._ Your Excellency!—the lictors. - - [_Torribio has suddenly vanished during the previous conversation._] - -_Palaemon._ Let this man be strictly confined. - -_A Footman._ What man, your Excellency? - -_Palaemon._ Here—what! Where is he? - -_Ministers._ What! Where is he? Gone? - -_King Bilbonzo._ This is unspeakably insolent! - -_Amenias._ He was standing here when I last saw him. - -_Palaemon._ He was standing here. - -[_They search all over the room._] - -_King Bilbonzo_ (to _Amenias_). What is that on the floor? - -_Amenias_ (_picking it up_). A tuft of grass, Sire! - -_King Bilbonzo._ This is infamous ribaldry. - -_Lepidus._ It is very mysterious. - -_Homaris._ Jugglers’ tricks! We have all been made fools of. - -_Footman_ (_opening a door_). Breakfast is served, your Majesty! - -_King Bilbonzo._ Come, my lords,—search no further! It is not worth -while. Follow me! [_He retires with dignity_.] - -_Hyacinthe_ (_follows, improvising_)— - - Shall hate and envy dim its lustre— - The crown on royal brows that glows— - And rob the People of their father, - And lead both parties by the nose? - La, la, la, la—no, never! no, never! - La, la, la! - - [_Exeunt omnes, following one another in a solemn procession._ - - FREDERICK VAN EEDEN. - (_From the Comedy of “Don Torribio.”_) - - - - - THE DOMINIE.[3] - - -“It is a very serious matter,” said Gerrit Rond, the burgomaster, to -Kobus. - -“Very serious, indeed,” replied Kobus, the _veldwachter_.[4] - -“It is a disgrace to the whole parish!” continued the burgomaster. - -“An everlasting disgrace!” repeated the veldwachter. - -Then followed an ominous silence, in the course of which the -burgomaster, with gloomy countenance and wildly rolling eye, attentively -followed the movements of a fly which was leisurely walking about the -stately expanse of his waistcoat; while the veldwachter kept a watchful -eye on his superior’s features, that he might not fail to mould his own -accordingly. In the meantime, he knit his brows, and provided himself -with a half-expectant, half-threatening expression. - -[Illustration: - - “IT IS A DISGRACE TO THE WHOLE PARISH!” -] - -At length the reverend head of Gerrit, the burgomaster, solemnly rose -upright, and his reflection opposite did the same. - -“Kobus,” said Gerrit, “it _must_ be seen to.” - -And Kobus replied: “It _shall_ be seen to, if your worship pleases.” - -“Very good, Kobus; and I _do_ please—of that I assure you....” - -“I think I’ve got something,” said Gerrit, with an astute smile, and -rubbed his nose with a civic forefinger, in a satisfied way. - -“Ha!” cried Kobus, triumphantly. - -“Yes, surely, ... surely, ...” said Gerrit, as though thinking -aloud,—still, astute, smiling, and rubbing his nose, ... “But let us at -least go over the whole thing once more—at least the main point.” - -“Shall I tell your worship once more, exactly?” asked Kobus, with a -self-satisfied laugh. - -“Well, yes, it will be just as well. I can then weigh the importance of -the whole matter so much better. Just go on,” said the burgomaster, with -the lofty attitude of one who is quite sure of himself, and can afford -to wait for anything, seeing that his resolution is already taken. - -“I will therefore tell your worship, once more,” began Kobus, “that on -Saturday week—a fortnight ago to-morrow—Jan o’ the Wood came running -into my house with a face—with a face....” - -“Like Balthasar Gerard’s,”[5] the burgomaster helped him out, with a -certain gloomy majesty befitting the dignity of his position and his -historical knowledge. - -“That would be just about it,” said Kobus, with deep respect, and then -went on. “He rushed into my house with a face like—h’m, h’m—it’s sinful -to think of—what a face the man had! And first he dropped down on a -chair, and couldn’t speak a word—not a letter—your worship! My wife gave -him a glass of water, and she said, says she, ‘Come, Jan, just drink a -little, and then you’ll come to yourself again, and then you can tell us -what’s the matter.’ That’s what she said, your worship,—for them -women-folk are always so curious, and she was just on fire, I tell you. -Jan soon got his breath, and then it came out—how, that night—last -Saturday week, a fortnight ago to-morrow—two baskets full of pears had -been taken away from his trees—two whole baskets, your worship!” - -Gerrit Rond, the burgomaster, the principal resident, and the respected -head of his parish, stroked his plump chin complacently, and looked at -his factotum, quietly smiling. - -“Well; and what more, Kobus?” - -Such imperturbable calm must surely conceal a great plan, thought the -veldwachter; and he was several seconds recovering from his -consternation. Then he stammered,— - -“And ... and ... nothing more, your worship. I reported the matter to -you at once; I drew up the _procès-verbal_. But though I have done my -best to find out....” - -The honest veldwachter completed his sentence by shrugging his -shoulders, extending his arms, and dropping them again,—illustrating the -whole pantomime by a face expressive of the utmost helplessness. - -But now Gerrit Rond, burgomaster, the principal resident, and respected -head of the community, arose from his municipal arm-chair, and spake,— - -“Kobus, I know it!” - -Kobus listened in breathless excitement. - -“Kobus,” the burgomaster went on, looking round him with vigilant eyes, -as though he suspected that pear-thieves might be hidden in the corners -of his sitting-room,—“Kobus, did he steal _all_ the pears?” - -The veldwachter was silent, and looked questioningly at the burgomaster. -He could not make out what the latter was driving at. - -“I mean,” explained the father of the citizens, “whether Jan o’ the Wood -has not got a single pear left on his trees?” - -“Well; no, sir. Two baskets the rascal made off with; but how many -baskets there were to be had in that orchard, I don’t know. It’s quite -terrible the way Jan’s trees bear, and everything prime quality, -large-sized, and juicy. I think Jan’s father had them before him, and he -must have brought them....” - -“That will do, Kobus,” the burgomaster interrupted his subordinate; “but -that’s not the point.... So the pears have not _all_ been removed? I -mean, by this, that the thief has not unlawfully possessed himself of -the _whole?_” - -“Why, no, your worship.” - -“Now, Kobus, look here.” - -Kobus listened respectfully, understanding that the critical moment had -now arrived. - -“My father, Kobus, was a man of sense, and when he had enjoyed anything, -he always used to say, ‘This peach tastes of more.’” - -“Oh, yes!” exclaimed Kobus, as though suddenly enlightened,—whereas, in -truth, he was more puzzled than ever. - -“And, look you, Kobus, the apple can never fall far from the tree. My -father was a sensible man; and I, too, say, ‘This peach tastes of more,’ -and....” - -Here the burgomaster looked through his half-closed eyelids with an air -of infinite sagacity, and added, slowly dragging out his words, one by -one,— - -“... And—that—I suspect—the thief—will—say—too.” - -“O-o-oh!” bellowed the veldwachter; “I understand—the thief will want -more pears. He will come back, and then we’ll catch him?” - -The burgomaster looked at his factotum with a paternal air of -approbation. - -“Kobus!” said he, “something may be made of you yet!” - -“Does your worship think that?” cried Kobus, in an ecstasy,—and a rosy -prospect instantly appeared before his mind’s eye—chief agent in a large -town, commissioner of police, nay, perhaps,—but that he would not have -dared to say out loud for any money in the world,—perhaps, one day, even -burgomaster! - -“But now to business, Kobus! This very night we will try to catch the -thief; and my name is not Gerrit Rond if we don’t succeed. We’ll hide in -Jan’s orchard, and when he comes we’ll collar him, and then....” - -Here the burgomaster-detective pointed downwards. Under the tower of the -court-house there was a vault or cellar of masonry, which usually served -as a receptacle for old iron and thieves; the latter destination, -however, was unknown, save by tradition, for only the very oldest -inhabitants of the village dimly remembered an evil-doer being -imprisoned there. - -Kobus then suggested that it might be as well to take his son Hannes -with him on their expedition, a suggestion which might have been -unkindly interpreted by outsiders, for there were unpleasant reports -current about the brave _garde-champêtre’s_ reluctance to pursue -criminals alone. The suggestion, however, found favour in the eyes of -the magistrate, as it would enable them to take forty winks while the -boy watched for the appearance of the thief. This being settled, Kobus -withdrew, to reappear at the appointed time that evening. But he had not -been gone long when a loud knocking startled the burgomaster out of an -incipient reverie. - -“Come in!” he cried, somewhat ungraciously, and the opening door -revealed Kobus’s bearded face; but this time with so scared an -expression, and such wildly rolling eyes, that Gerrit turned rigid with -terror and, pale as death, held on to the back of his chair for support, -as he stammered, - -“Wh—wh—what is it, Kobus?” - -“_Burrgemeesterr_,” rolled out Kobus, hoarsely, making as much as -possible of the _r’s_, and putting his head round the door without -coming into the room, “the thief of the apples that were stolen from -Piet Stein a year and a half ago, and this thief of the pears....” - -“The same,” sighed the burgomaster, struck with consternation. - -“Your worship,” said Kobus, “it is a conspiracy! Shall we—should we—go -and ask the Dominie?” - -But scarcely had Kobus uttered this fatal word than he darted out of the -door and up the street, and it was long before his mind’s eye had lost -sight of that frightful picture: the burgomaster, purple in the face, -and boiling over with indignation; and the voice of his superior -thundered in his ears with all the annihilating force of contempt. - -“The Dominie!” was all he had said. - -The village schoolmaster was an old man of sixty-three, who, ever since -his twentieth year, had stood, day after day, Sundays excepted, behind -the same desk, leading the peasants’ children from the spelling of s, p, -a—spa, to the four elementary rules of arithmetic. Every year a few left -him, being found ripe for forgetting at the plough-tail what they had -learnt in the schoolroom, and every year fresh aspirants for s, p, -a—spa, appeared on the scenes. So he had grown old at his work, and his -work with him. For he belonged to the pre-examination days—he was a -“_schoolmeester_,” not an “_onderwijzer_.” The new generation looked on -him rather as a curiosity, a touchstone of progress, a souvenir of old -times, than a living being, a wheel in the world-machine of the -nineteenth century. Other men of his age had gone with the stream, and -followed its capricious windings; he had landed on the bank, and -followed his own old path; his mind had rusted into the old groove, and -he could not extricate it. - -He had already received hints that he ought to retire, to ask for his -pension, so as to make way for modern forces; but the idea of ceasing to -stand before his class and behind his desk was too strange to the old -man—too new! - -So he remained on for the present, till his resignation should no longer -be a matter of choice. - - -The elder children were busy doing sums; the younger ones were being -attended to by the Dominie himself. - -But how strange he was to-day! It sometimes seemed as if he heard -nothing of the lesson the children were droning over,—saw nothing of the -tricks the older ones were up to in the background,—as if, in fact, he -were thinking of something entirely different. He had such fits, -sometimes. How funny it was, now, when he dipped his pencil into the -inkstand, instead of a penholder, and, shortly afterwards, abstractedly -put it into his mouth! What a face he made when he found it out! The -whole school had simply yelled at the joke, and the Dominie had got very -angry, and put the whole lot of them in detention. Later, however, he -almost laughed at the matter himself, and allowed them all to go home. -Such foolish and absurd things he used to do every now and then; and the -reason for this was, as the burgomaster said, because the Dominie was -“an obstructive fellow,” and “not practical.” - -And when the burgomaster said so, every one believed him, for the -burgomaster was considered a very clever man. - -But, after all, the Dominie was cleverer still. - -For, indeed, there were sometimes things that the Dominie himself did -not know,—of course, for no man can know everything. But, in those -cases, he always said, “I’ll just look it up.” And then he looked in his -books, and kept on looking till he found it; and he always did find it, -because he had such piles of books! For, after all, that was where -things were to be found—in books! For this reason the burgomaster was -not so clever as the schoolmaster; he had scarcely any books at all. -This was one cause of the burgomaster’s dislike. He was Gerrit Rond, -_the burgomaster_, the first man in the village; and the Dominie was -just the schoolmaster. And, naturally, the former could not endure being -looked on as less clever than the latter. But he did not utter this -opinion aloud; he sometimes needed the Dominie’s help in “just looking -up something,” and swallowed his dislike as best he could; but people -could see it all the same. - -Yes, indeed! the Dominie was particularly clever! - -Once it befell that Piet Stein’s son came home from the city, where he -had “studied” with a view to becoming assistant-teacher; and on that -occasion he had said, in the presence of his father, “All the Dominie’s -cleverness is worth nothing; he is antiquated, and doesn’t know French.” -Piet Stein, junior, was well acquainted with the French language; he had -just learnt it. But Piet Stein, senior, seized his promising son by the -collar, and dealt him a well-intentioned thrashing, “to knock these -new-fangled notions out of him once for all.” - -For the schoolmaster was a knowledgeable man. He lived with his books, -and—which was less obvious to the eyes of the world—with his instruments -and his medicine-chest. For years past he had been practising on his own -account, and had acquired a certain medical reputation among the -peasants of the neighbourhood as well as within the village. He had, in -truth, treated several cases within the last few years with great -success; but it might be better not to inquire how many earlier trials -had failed. Then came the new ideas—the laws against unlicensed -doctoring were strictly enforced, and he received warnings from various -quarters, of which, however, he took no notice. He could not understand -why he might not try to lessen people’s sufferings, as well as other -men, who usually did not succeed any better than he. It had become to -him a passion, an aim in life, a vocation. - -So he obstinately went his own way, in spite of warnings, till the -doctors, whom he injured in their practice, at last lost patience, and -prosecuted him. He was convicted and fined, and from that time his -medical career was over,—at least so it was universally reported. It -seemed strange, however, that now and then a sick person made a -wonderful recovery, without having been treated by the doctor. - - -Now, one evening it happened that old Klaas, the shepherd, was seriously -ill, and had asked for the schoolmaster. The Dominie had said “No,” but -he had meant “Yes”; for though no longer allowed to do any doctoring, he -could not keep from it. So he meant to wait till it was dark, and then -slip out unnoticed to Klaas’ cottage. - -In Jan o’ the Wood’s orchard three figures were crouching down behind -three low dwarf pear-trees, and each of the three had his head full of -thoughts that were not those of his neighbour. The burgomaster was -chiefly tortured by the idea that on the good or ill success of the -evening’s undertaking depended the preservation of his official dignity; -for, seeing that he had enjoined the strictest secrecy on the -veldwachter, and his promising son and heir, the only question was which -of the two would most speedily spread abroad the whole story through the -village. But, over and above this, the respected head of the community -was trembling like an aspen-leaf, for before his mental eye there arose -a vision of a robber—yes, truly and literally, _a robber_,—a man with a -long beard, bristling hair, and bloodshot eyes,—a man who goes about -with jemmies and murderous weapons on his person, and—and—who might kill -you if you came in his way, you see! - -The veldwachter was, before all things, eager to behold the heroic feats -of the burgomaster, for he was firmly convinced that the mere presence -of the great man was sufficient to compel the miscreant to run into the -snare. For terror there was _now_ no room in his martial spirit,—for, -after all, he had Hannes with him! - -Hannes was a big sturdy chap, who at fifteen might well have been taken -for eighteen,—a fellow with fists like engine-buffers, and a face which, -for shrewd intelligence of expression, was about equal to that of a -sheep. Hannes was burning with impatience to hammer away at the -malefactor; hitherto he had only tried his strength on mere vagabonds, -but now he was to have the opportunity of measuring himself with a real -thief. That would be something to boast of! - -Thus the three would-be thief-catchers sat in the greatest excitement -behind three of the smallest dwarf pear-trees that any one can imagine. - -A considerable time elapsed, during which even the strained senses of -the triumvirate could perceive nothing which, in the remotest degree, -resembled even a fraction of a thief. At last Hannes’ patience was -exhausted, and with it his capacity for silence. “Dad,” he began in a -whisper, “if he comes, am I to take him by the throat and choke him, or -shall I punch his head till he falls down dead?” - -“I don’t know,” replied the veldwachter, in an equally cautious whisper, -at least as low as his love for gutturals and sibilants would allow, -“I’ll just ask his worship.” Thus did Kobus, and repeated the gruesome -question to the burgomaster, thereby sending a shudder through the -latter’s limbs. - -“Tell him,” said the heroic man to his heroic subordinate, who was -squatting between his superior and his son, “that he must seize him by -the legs, so as not to come within reach of his hands; the thief is sure -to have daggers and pistols to defend himself with if he is attacked.” -Thus spake the wise man; but the real reason for his caution was that he -felt there might be disagreeable consequences for himself if Hannes -received the thief in too heavy-handed a manner. - -The veldwachter passed on the message in a whisper to his son: - -“Hold him by the legs, Hannes!” - -“All right, dad,” replied Hannes, though he did not understand why he -was to treat the criminal so gently. But the burgomaster had said so,—in -other words, the oracle had spoken, and so—— - -It was very quiet, in the dark, behind Jan’s pear-tree. The burgomaster -dropped his venerated head, and slept. When Kobus heard the low sound of -snoring beside him, he turned to his son, and said: - -“Hannes, his worship is off; I think I’ll have a nap too; keep a good -look-out, and give me a push if you see anything wrong.” - -“All right, dad,” said Hannes, and he sat bolt upright, and opened his -eyes still wider than before. But the duet at his side, the darkness all -round him, and the weariness in his eyelids, made him close them now and -then. He struggled bravely against sleep, but there was no one to help -him. And he was only fifteen, and it was so late and so dark, and Hannes -fell into a doze. - -Now and then he was awakened for a moment or so by the uneasy thought -that he was the one who had to watch. On one of these occasions, he -thought he saw a dim figure pass right before him in this dark, and to -hear steps—hurried footsteps. He rubbed his eyes, and—yes—there was some -one carefully opening the gate and leaving the orchard. - -Hastily Hannes awakened his parent, in the gentle manner prescribed and -told him, in a whisper, what he knew. The awful tidings were then -reported to the burgomaster, and a moment later the trio were on their -way to seek the thief, who surely, as the veldwachter supposed, was just -carrying away his booty. Hannes went first, the burgomaster followed, -and Kobus formed the rearguard. This order had been determined by the -burgomaster. “For,” said he, “as head of the community, I ought to have -the most protection.” - -In this way the police force wandered aimlessly about for some time. -Hannes did not know for certain what direction the thief had taken after -leaving the orchard; and, besides, there was scarcely any light. It -really seemed as though the moon were taking upon herself to play at -bo-peep with the most worshipful the burgomaster, for she chose not to -show up at all. Yes, perhaps, indeed—oh! scandalous thought!—she was -making faces at the great man behind her thick curtain of clouds! Who -knows?—there are such queer stories told about the moon. - -The expedition, then, returned to the orchard unsuccessful, and once -more took up its position behind the dwarf pear-trees. That the -miscreant might yet return seemed probable, as Hannes assured them that -he had indeed seen him carrying something under his arm, but not a large -sack or anything of that sort. He could not, therefore, have taken -_much_ with him. And they waited—waited—waited.... - -Meanwhile the schoolmaster had quietly gone on his way. The better to -escape observation, he did not take the nearest way, along the main -street, but went out into his back garden, opened a little gate which -led into Jan o’ the Wood’s orchard, struck right across the orchard, and -so reached a lane leading round to the other side of the village. Here -he turned into a wood, and, following a small winding footpath, came at -length to a lonely cottage, seemingly forsaken, hidden away among the -tall trees. Here he seemed a habitual visitor. At least he lifted the -latch without first knocking, opened the door, and found himself in an -apartment serving at the same time as bedroom and kitchen. - -A close, heavy air, and an ominous stillness, seemed to oppress him as -he entered. But the Dominie was not easily daunted. He felt about till -he found a lamp standing on the table, and lit it. With the light, life -seemed to come into the dead silence of the room; at least a low moaning -was heard from a corner where there was a bedstead, and a broken voice -asked, “Who’s there?” - -“It’s I, Klaas, the schoolmaster,” announced the visitor; and, bending -over the sick man, he went on, “How is it with you?” - -“It’s all up, Dominie, it’s all up,” gasped the voice. “Oh, Klaas is no -great loss—not much; oh no!” - -There seemed to be reason enough for such an estimate; at least the man -who lay there dying did not give the idea of one whose loss society -would feel very keenly. The flickering lamp-light showed the bed-place, -let into the wall like a ship’s berth, in an indefinite half-darkness, -except the head, on which a dull yellow gleam was cast. There lay, on an -unsightly grey, greasy bolster, a head that at first sight seemed more -animal than human. The thin face was made still more angular and hollow -by the strongly projecting cheek-bones, and the pointed chin with its -bristly beard. The upper-lip, and indeed the whole mouth, was almost -covered with stiff hair; the nose was broad, flat, and turned up; while -a quantity of lank, tangled hair fell over the projecting forehead and -deep-set eyes. But these eyes glittered fiercely, every now and then, in -their dark sockets, and then again looked anxiously, almost -entreatingly, at the schoolmaster. - -The Dominie tried to answer him cheerfully. “Come, come, Klaas! What -foolish talk is this? You may not have been a king or a great man, but -you have been of use for all that. Shepherds are wanted just as much as -kings.” - -“No, sir,” said Klaas, moving his head restlessly. “Every day so many -finer lights are blown out, and Klaas is only a rushlight. Oh, Lord, -yes!” - -The old schoolmaster tried to comfort him, but Klaas still seemed to -have something on his mind. - -He had stolen Jan’s pears a fortnight ago, he told the schoolmaster at -last. - -The old man remained with him till a late hour, and then started -homewards by the same way as he had come. - -“Father, father!” - -“What is it, Hannes?” - -“I hear the gate creak.” - -“So it does.... Your worship, here he comes back again.” - -“Really? Yes, I see him.... Kobus, stand firm, my man. Let Hannes hold -him fast by the legs. No, not yet—wait till he passes! Oh, do be -careful! Look out for his weapons!” - -“Hannes, be ready!” - -“I’m quite ready, dad.” - -“Not before I speak, and then by the legs—do you hear?” - -“Yes, dad. Hush now!” - -—The shuffling of approaching footsteps in the grass of the orchard ... -suddenly a figure disengages itself from the darkness.— - -“Now, Hannes, now!” - -Hannes creeps forward along the ground, seizes the figure, according to -instructions, firmly by the ankles—a good pull—and the thief falls -forward at full length. Hannes seizes his wrists, and lets himself fall -flat on the top of his prey. - -The veldwachter, for greater security, incontinently throws himself upon -his two predecessors; and the burgomaster crowns the human pyramid, and -the successful thief-hunt, by sitting down, with all his burgomasterly -weight and a heavy bump, upon the three others, triumphantly shouting -the while, “I’ve got him,”—which is answered by, “Oh my ribs, your -worship!” from the uppermost stratum, “What in thunder!” from the -midmost, and a smothered groan from the lowest. - -“Hannes, have you got a hold of his hands—tight now?” - -“Yes, your worship, but I can’t do anything myself like this.” - -“Well, I’ll get up, but keep a good hold of him—do you hear?” - -“All right, sir.” - -The burgomaster arose. “Kobus, put the handcuffs on him at once. In -heaven’s name make haste about it then.” - -The veldwachter bustled up from the ground, and set about securing the -prisoner as closely as possible. While he was thus occupied, and Hannes -was holding the persistently silent criminal, the burgomaster kept -walking round and round his captive in order to see what sort of a fish -he had got in his net. In this he would probably have been unsuccessful, -had not the moon, in a sudden caprice, shone out brightly once more. -When the triumvirate saw the pale face, paler than ever with the fright -and the cold moonlight, and perceived it to be the face so well known to -them, all their astonishment uttered itself in the simultaneous cry— - -“The Dominie!” - - -The school was empty, and the children had a holiday, for the -Dominie ... was sitting in the vault under the tower. - -Under the tower sat the Dominie, amidst pieces of old iron and other -rubbish. Light and air stole in shyly, in small quantities, through the -little, square, grated window, in which a single scrap of glass, dusty -and weather-stained, remained in one corner, to show there had once been -a pane. As the court-house was surrounded by a paddock, which again was -enclosed by a low wall, the sounds from outside only penetrated -indistinctly, as a vague murmur, into this chamber. Sometimes it was -quiet,—deadly still, there, especially of an evening, and then life came -into the place, for the rats and mice began their games. The Master was -an old man, and nervous, and he could not sleep much. He thought over -the whole matter in his wakeful hours, and it gradually became clear to -him that he had been arrested by mistake.... Klaas had stolen Jan van ’t -Hout’s pears, and he, the Dominie, had been taken for the thief -returning for a second load. But it would not be difficult to prove his -innocence. Only it was lasting a long time; he ought surely to have been -tried before now. Four days had passed without his hearing anything. -Even the veldwachter, who, as a rule, could not be with him two minutes -without wanting to relate some story or other, was now silence itself, -when he brought the Dominie his daily rations. What was the meaning of -this delay? - -[Illustration: - - “SITTING IN THE VAULT UNDER THE TOWER.” -] - -Yes, the delay had well-founded reasons! The burgomaster had indeed -caught the fish, but he did not exactly know what he was to do with him. -It was a ticklish business. Was he to hand over the prisoner -immediately, without the form of a trial, to the authorities in town? or -was he first to hold an inquiry, and send up the _procès-verbal_ along -with the prisoner? Supposing the latter to be the case, how was he to -set about it? It was a most unfortunate circumstance that there had -never been any thieves in the parish, for now the burgomaster was most -certainly at his wits’ end. The secretary—a poor, infirm old man, almost -in his dotage—was consulted in vain. The same result attended a -conference with the “law-holders.”[6] Finally the burgomaster called -Kobus to his assistance. He reflected for some time, and said at last: - -“Doesn’t it say in the communal bye-laws?” - -“This case is one for which no provision is made in the _Gemeentewet_” -said the burgomaster, with admirable composure,—the truth being that the -greater part of the Gemeentewet was Greek to him, and that he had -gradually picked up, by practical experience, what knowledge he -possessed of his official duties. Kobus, however, was very far from -suspecting any such subtleties, and believed his superior implicitly. -His invention being now exhausted, he confined himself to remarking, -with a sigh, “If it hadn’t been the Dominie himself, now, we might have -asked him—he could surely have looked it up somewhere.” - -Yes, that would have been too absurd. They could not have brought the -Dominie all his books in a wheelbarrow, and requested him to “look up” -information as to what was to be done with himself! No—that would not -do. But all at once an expedient occurred to Kobus. There was an old, -old man in the village—a grey-beard of ninety or more. Perhaps in his -young days there might have been such a thing as a malefactor in this -rural region. Yes, the idea was not such a bad one, and Kobus was sent -as a delegate from the government to this oracle of antiquity. In fact, -the old man had a suggestion ready. He remembered that some sixty years -ago an analogous case had occurred, and then the burgomaster had first -examined the culprit himself, and then sent him to town for trial. He -added, however, that the burgomaster on that occasion had not been quite -certain of what he ought to do. That, however, did not matter so -much—the precedent was there in any case. The schoolmaster then must be -examined; and, as Mulders had once been present at a trial in court, the -forms of justice presented no such great difficulty after all. - -On the fifth day after his arrest, the schoolmaster was haled forth from -the dungeon under the tower, and—of course, heavily handcuffed—taken to -the council-chamber. That was an event. The whole village formed a long -procession, which accompanied the prisoner; and when he was taken -inside, his train remained hanging about the doors. Then followed a buzz -and clatter among the crowd, as though it were a swarm of bees, or a -duck-yard. - -[Illustration: - - “THAT WAS AN EVENT.” -] - -“It’s too bad,” said a little old woman; “an old white-haired man like -that. What may not a man come to? Only yesterday he was teaching my -daughter’s children their lessons, and to-day the poor lambs are running -after their master, because he’s been in jail just like some nasty -vagabond. And I can’t believe it of him, do you know—anything but that. -He has always been much too kind to every one. I’m not the only one here -whom he has helped for nothing—nothing at all—without your having to pay -a cent for it.” - -“Yes, but, mother,” began a rich farmer,—with a face and attitude in -which the most condescending amiability could not altogether hide the -lowest greed, and a stupid arrogant conceit,—“you must understand that -there are well-founded reasons—I say, _well-founded reasons_—for the man -to have been taken up—eh? That’s surely self-evident—eh? No one is put -into handcuffs without important reasons; there must be a ground for -such a motive—I say, _for such a motive_.” And then the mighty orator -looked round him with a “What do you think of me now?” expression, and -enjoyed his victory over the old woman. But the latter was not to be -driven from the field so easily. - -“You go along with your French talk. I know nothing about that,—and yet -I think I know quite as much as you do yourself. But this I know, that -it doesn’t look well for you, of all people, to abuse the schoolmaster -anyway. Even though it were as clear as a post above the water that the -Dominie had stolen, _you_ ought to stand up for him! Do you understand -me—eh?” - -The rich farmer understood quite well. When his youngest boy had been -lying ill some months ago, he had been too mean to send for a doctor, -though he could well afford it, and had called the schoolmaster to his -assistance. Then, as at other times, the Dominie had said “No,” to keep -up appearances, as he was not supposed to practise any more; but he had -thought “Yes,” and acted on his thought. And the rich farmer had paid -him nothing. This was why he now hurriedly turned away from this covert -attack, muttering something about “old creatures getting quite -childish,” but abstained from further contradiction. - -But the old woman could not be everywhere at once to take the Dominie’s -part, and the conclusion of most conversations was this: “Yes, you see, -folks don’t call a cow piebald, when there’s not a spot about her.” - -Suddenly, however, all voices were hushed before the reverently-uttered -magic formula, “The Burgomaster!” - -The crowd parted to let him pass, and he went up to the council-chamber, -where the faithful Kobus, in his Sunday suit, was awaiting him. He was -already going to meet the burgomaster, in order to tell him that “they” -were all there; but the great man was looking straight in front of him, -as stiff as a poker, and making, in a direct line, for his official -chair, like a guest who, on being ushered in, looks neither to right nor -left, but makes straight for the lady of the house. - -This was “the proper form.” Kobus was so impressed by this ceremonial -that he stared with open mouth and eyes, and remained immovable, like a -masculine counterpart of Lot’s wife. The burgomaster had elegant -manners, that he had. - -“Are all present?” asked the burgomaster, suddenly. - -Kobus awakened with a start from his ecstatic trance. “Yes, your -worship,” he answered, regaining his composure. - -“Then the trial may begin,” said the President of the Court. “And you, -Veldwachter, do you caligraph it!” - -“I—I don’t altogether understand, your worship.” - -“Caligraph, Veldwachter!” - -“Oh!—ah!—hm—yes, I don’t understand——.” - -“Write it down, Veldwachter. Caligraphy—that is the art of writing, you -know.” - -“All right, your worship.” Kobus sat down at a table, took up a pen, and -bent over a sheet of paper. But the paper was destined to remain -unsoiled. For, all of a sudden, the burgomaster looked round him, and, -probably struck by the emptiness of the room, inquired, “Veldwachter, -are all the witnesses present?” - -“All the witnesses are present, your worship,” answered Kobus, -indicating, with a majestic wave of the hand, his solitary son Hannes, -who sat so forlorn, that, looking at him and the schoolmaster, it would -have been hard to say which was witness and which defendant; for the -Dominie had his handcuffed hands on his knees under the table, and you -would not have guessed from his calm features—pale and worn with the -fatigues of the last few days—that he was accused of any crime. - -“But,” pursued Kobus, “your worship has just said something that gives -me an idea. Ought there not to be some other witnesses?” - -“Other witnesses?” - -“Yes, I mean witnesses to witness _for_ him, do you see? I mean to say, -Hannes sits here, for instance, to speak against—I mean against the -Dominie,—but ought there not to be some witnesses to speak for him as -well?” - -The burgomaster began to think. This was a difficult question, one of -those ticklish and delicate problems, the solution of which forms the -principal _raison d’être_ of a burgomaster’s career. If only this -miserable trial had never begun! He cast a furtive glance at the -defendant. If only he could consult the Dominie, and ask him to look up -his books about the matter! But away with such humiliating thoughts! No; -better, if it must be, to manifest his ignorance in a more becoming way: -“Veldwachter, is that what they do in town? It was different in my -time.” - -“They do it that way now, your worship.” - -“Then we had better move with the times, and adapt ourselves to the new -usages. But where are the—the _for_-witnesses to come from?” - -“Oh! there’s a whole crowd outside the door, your worship—perhaps you -might find one among them. And if there’s no one to be had—well, at any -rate, we’ve done our best to find one.” - -“Go outside, then, and proclaim a summons, on my behalf.” - -Kobus went and did so, wording the “proclamation” as clearly as he knew -how. But a deathly stillness was all the answer he received. For though -many a simple soul was honestly convinced of the defendant’s innocence, -and though here and there a solitary voice had been raised in his -favour,—to go in there, into the council-chamber,—_to stand before the -tribunal_,—that was more than those timid folk could undertake. - -Suddenly, however, a shrill voice cried, “Well, if no one else will do -it, I will.” And the little old woman who had already taken up the -cudgels for the Dominie, forced her way hastily to the front of the -crowd. - -“Look’ee there; Auntie’s going to speak,” cried various voices. Every -one repeated, laughing, “Auntie’s going to speak!” for under this name -the old lady was known to all the village. - -Auntie cared neither for laughter nor tears, but went straight forward, -climbed the court-house steps, and then suddenly turned round, waved her -thin old arms, and cried as loud as she could, “You’re a pack of -cowards, the lot of you,—do you hear, you great loobies?” Then she -disappeared inside. And though she was a funny figure enough as she -stood there, no one thought of laughing,—they all felt the truth of -Auntie’s words too deeply. - -[Illustration: - - “YOU’RE A PACK OF COWARDS.” -] - -Auntie was conducted inside by the veldwachter, and her eye immediately -fell on her client. The Dominie remained seated in the same attitude, -discouraged and dejected—deeply humiliated by the thought that, at his -age, with his aspirations and such a past behind him, he should have to -bow his head beneath the weight of a criminal accusation! The trouble -dimmed his thinking powers, and drove the blood through his veins at -lightning speed. What a hammering in his pulses—what a thumping in his -temples—what a rushing in his ears! He felt like a swimmer who has been -long under water, and finds it press more and more crushingly on him, -and hears its noise in his ears. That was the fever—the fever that was -rising higher and higher in his blood, and brought that unnatural flush -to his usually pale cheeks. - -Auntie looked at the sad spectacle he presented, and her indignation -rose, and craved for immediate utterance. - -“Burgomaster!” she began, “don’t you call it a shame that the Dominie——” - -But her flow of words was immediately interrupted by the burgomaster: -“Silence! witness, this is not as it should be. You have come here to -give your evidence voluntarily, and to do this effectually all the forms -must be observed. Witness, what is your name?” - -“Well, I never—my name! Just as though the whole village didn’t know me? -Come, come, Burgomaster, every one knew my name long before yours was -ever thought of; and do you want to pretend that you don’t know me? No, -man, that won’t do. All those grand manners won’t go down with old -Auntie. All the same, I can tell you plainly why the poor fellow could -not have stolen the pears; and so you are quite out of it, with all your -fine forms and speeches, do you see? Now just let me ask you, if he took -the pears, where did he leave them,—say?” - -And Auntie placed her arms akimbo, and assumed an attitude which seemed -to say, “Your turn now—come on!” - -But the opposite party remained passive. The burgomaster, as it -happened, was seized with a violent fit of coughing, which seemed as -though it could not come to an end. It was a pity, for, but for that, -surely, the wise man would have answered the conundrum with Solomonic -perspicuity. The veldwachter-clerk said, “Hm, hm—yes, yes,” and covered -his beard with his hand. The witness for the prosecution yawned with -_ennui_ and hunger. The defendant sat still, and looked at the old woman -with rigid eyes. - -But all things come to an end, and so did the presiding judge’s cough. -However, he seemed to have coughed away all his judicial sagacity, for -he remained silent. Not so Kobus Mulders, who awakened from his reverie -after this fashion— - -“Yes, yes,—where did he leave them? I only say, your worship,—where did -he leave the pears, if he stole them?” - -“Oh, yes, that’s what I should like to know,” said Auntie, shortly, and -closed her lips with a look of firm conviction. - -Another pause. - -“Yes,” resumed Kobus, “he can’t have swallowed them all down at once.” -This joke appeared to him so inexpressibly funny, that he burst into a -loud hoarse laugh, which was echoed by no one except Hannes. But -suddenly the joker’s features became rigid, and he looked at every one -present with a face whose expression plainly said, “How is it possible -that I did not think of it before?” and exclaimed, “I know! Your -worship, the little chest that we found in Klaas’s cottage the day after -he died——” - -“Well, Kobus?” asked the burgomaster, in great excitement—so much so -that he quite forgot to speak officially. - -“It is the Dominie’s, and now I understand everything. The Dominie -_didn’t_ steal, and Auntie is quite right. It could not be, either. Just -listen. The Dominie has been at his doctoring again. He went to see -Klaas when he was dying, and forgot to take his medicine-chest away with -him when he left. I am quite sure it is his medicine-chest, because it -is the same thing I used to see in his hands in the old times, when -nobody minded his doctoring folks. And the time just corresponds. On the -day after we arrested the Dominie, I went to see Klaas, and found him -dead. It’s as plain—as—well, it’s quite plain!” - -Every one had listened with the greatest attention, and the explanation -seemed to have made a deep impression on all. The Dominie, however, -seemed to feel it most. He suddenly started up out of his apathy, leaned -his handcuffed hands on the table, and tried to speak. Everything melted -into a dull roar inside his head—the light turned to scarlet—he had -fainted. - -All of them hastened up to help him—Auntie foremost, in spite of her old -legs. Slowly he came to himself again, and then he tried to think. He -remembered what had happened, in a dim sort of way. What now? What -should he answer if they asked him whether Kobus’s supposition was -correct? It was—and yet, if he acknowledged that he had gone to Klaas on -that particular evening to give him medical help, then he would have to -expect for the future so strict a supervision of his forbidden practice, -that it would thenceforth be almost impossible to carry it on. And he -could not give it up—he could not, and would not. But to be looked on as -a thief! Oh, if he could only think—think quietly and calmly. But this -fever! this fever! No, it was his duty, his calling, and he must be true -to it, though he should be crushed by the contempt of the whole -world—the world he longed to do good to. And wildly, as a wave of -delirium swept over him, he said, “No! no! no! I didn’t do that! The -chest is not mine! I know nothing about it, and wish to know nothing—do -you hear? I am no doctor; I am only a poor schoolmaster! I am much too -stupid to be a doctor, and I have never done anything of the sort! I’m a -thief—a wretched thief—a thief!” He cried shrilly once more, with all -his strength, “A thief!” and let his burning head drop on his heaving -breast. - -His hearers looked at each other. Not one of them now believed in his -guilt, and even in the burgomaster—who was only narrow-minded, not -bad-hearted—every hostile feeling now gave place to pity. - -“Come, Dominie,” he said, laying his hand on the old man’s shoulder, -“come, you mustn’t make so much of it as all that. We all understand the -whole business now; and as for the medicine-chest, I forbid every one -here present to say one word about it!” At these words the burgomaster -looked round him with such a solemn air of command, that Kobus cast down -his eyes, and Hannes shuddered with sheer reverence. But the great man, -mindful of his duties as presiding judge, went on—“Now, defendant, you -are acquitted; you may go.” - -But Auntie flew up in a storm of indignation. “What! go? My patience, -me! Burgomaster, don’t you see the poor soul can hardly sit in his -chair? Come, Hannes, you great lout, what are you loafing about there -for, you great long booby, you? Run out, and tell them to send some -menfolks to carry the Dominie home. Quick now!” - -This classic oration produced a visible impression on Hannes, and, -before long, he came back with several men, who carried the schoolmaster -away, Auntie walking behind, and saying, from time to time, “Take care! -take care!” When it became known outside that the Dominie’s innocence -was established, every one set up a loud cry of joy. - -Inside, however, the burgomaster and Kobus were looking at each other -with serious faces. “I haven’t written down anything, with all the -confusion,” said Kobus. The burgomaster considered. If the matter were -reported in town, he would probably get well laughed at for his mistake. -And what about the forms in which such a narrative, if reported, would -have to be clothed? No; it was best to put the whole thing aside, and -say no more about it. - -“Veldwachter, it seems to me that this matter is not now of sufficient -importance for us to communicate it to the judicial authorities of the -_parquet_; so you may go too.” - -Without understanding half of this speech, Kobus was able to catch the -burgomaster’s drift,—the matter was at an end. So he went home, -reflecting how frightfully learned the burgomaster was. - - C. K. ELOUT. - - - - - _MY HERO._ - - -I was a boy of twelve or thirteen, and, just like other boys of that -age, full of life, mischief, ideals, and illusions. - -A good-for-nothing little scamp out of school, I was, under the master’s -eye, a queer mixture of the genuine mischief-loving boy and the zealous -pupil. If I found no attraction in the dry science of arithmetic and the -rules of grammar, all the more did I feel attracted by the history of -all nations in general, and ours in particular. - -Yet not altogether; it was only the warlike Spartans and Romans, our own -crusading knights, and the fierce and enterprising Gueux,—in short, only -those whom I looked upon as heroes who could arrest my attention. - -Frequently it vexed me that my lunch-slice of bread and butter did not -consist of black, coarse bread; sometimes I felt a deep disdain for my -clothes, so different from those in which the Roman legions marched to -victory; all peaceable merchant-vessels were an abomination to me,—I -knew but one ideal—to be a hero. - -What I understood by a hero was not quite clear, even to myself,—only -this was certain, that no one could be a hero unless he had won many -great battles over stronger adversaries, or had blown up his ship in -order to save the flag, or ended his glorious life covered with wounds -in the breast (never in the back, of course!). In short, my idea of a -hero was somewhat complicated; but this much was certain, that a great -hero ought to be able to show a large number of wounds and scars, and -that his bravery should be equalled by his generosity. - -I wished to be a hero myself, but as I quite understood that I was too -young for the position at present, my great desire was, at least, to see -and know a hero. - -I sought everywhere for this superior being, and thought at last that I -had found my ideal in our new “odd man,” who had been a soldier, and had -a large scar on his cheek. - -From this one outward and visible token of his bravery, I argued that he -must have more hidden about his person, under his clothes. These wounds, -alas! I could never hope to see, as he did not live in the house, but -came every day to clean boots and run errands. - -I was, however, firmly convinced that they existed. The only drawback to -his greatness was the fact that he had both his arms and no wooden leg. -I would much rather it had been otherwise, but managed to content myself -with his many unseen wounds. - -I was still seeking an opportunity of asking him how and when he had -become a hero, when I was suddenly bereft of my illusion. - -Our kitchenmaid was beforehand with me. - -One day, when I had furtively slipped out to the kitchen, in order to -question Frans, I heard Mie, our maid, say— - -“I say, Frans, have you been in the wars, that you have such a mark over -your face?” - -Then he replied— - -“In the wars! I believe you! We’ve nothing more to do with wars in this -country, now! No,—when I was leaving the service, I treated my chum one -night. But he got drunk and outrageous, and chucked me through a window, -so that I cut my face open. No—I didn’t get it in the wars—and jolly -glad of it, too!” - -I stood thunderstruck—the tears rose in my eyes. - -No wounds on his breast! Even the scar was a delusion and a snare. I no -longer believed in living heroes. They no longer existed. - -But I was going to be a hero all the same. And till I was able to -re-introduce the breed, I would content myself with the dead heroes of -the past. - -[Illustration: - - “I HAD FURTIVELY SLIPPED OUT TO THE KITCHEN.” -] - -But there were so many of them—and I wanted a special hero all to -myself. Where should I find him? - -De Ruyter was a hero, killed by the enemy’s shot—but I had nowhere read -that he had many wounds. - -Bayard!—but I knew so little of him—and besides, he was not a Dutchman. - -Cæsar—Napoleon—Blücher!—but how about the wounds? - -Besides, every one knew that these were heroes; and I wanted one for -myself—for my own special worship—not one of the universally famous -ones. - -My search, however, was not to be fruitless long. I found my hero in the -following way. - -There were to be drains laid down round the old church in our city; and -the ground being dug up for that purpose, a number of skulls and bones -were found in the black earth. - -All the boys of the school went to look as soon as they could get away, -and it may be supposed that I did not remain behind. We were all -inspired with a frenzied enthusiasm for relics of antiquity. We grubbed -about in the earth of the opened graves, to find coins, pots, or even -potsherds if we could get nothing else. We envied the town workmen, who -were allowed to keep on digging and finding all day long; and scarcely -had it struck twelve when we flew to the Kerkplein, to see what these -greedy persons had left us, and to discover anything that might have -escaped their search. - -But we found nothing—neither did the diggers. Most of the boys, -therefore, gave up the search—I, alone, did not. I was seeking a dead, -unknown hero,—while they were looking only for coins and nicknacks. I -knew for certain that I should find something, when there were not so -many eyes on the watch, and therefore I remained away from school one -morning in order to go to the old churchyard. - -For a long time nothing at all had been found—not even bones or -mouldering boards; so that all the other boys too—those who did not -belong to our school—had grown tired of coming. - -Luck, however, was with me! - -On one particular spot, at some distance from the church, pieces of -skeletons again began to be dug up. The workmen examined the earth to -see if it contained anything of value, but found nothing. My eager eye, -however, spied among the clods a lump of a different colour. I loosened -the earth from it, and found, to my great joy, a flattened bullet. - -That was a discovery! - -I turned over the heap of earth, and thus came into possession of six -bullets, and a little copper plate covered with earth and rust. - -The bullets!—My hero was found! - -Reverently I picked up some bones which had been thrown aside, and -carefully packed the remains of my hero in my school satchel. - -My hero!—a real hero now!—not an imaginary one, like Frans, the odd man. - -When I came home, in a tumult of joyful excitement, I secured my -treasure safely in my play-box, to which I had a key. And then I had my -hero safe—all to myself! - -At dinner, I looked round triumphantly, and felt the deepest disdain for -my parents and sisters. They had never made such a discovery! They could -not even understand what it is to possess the very remains of a hero—the -hero himself! I scarcely ate anything for pride and joy, till my mother -said— - -“Why, Con, you’re not eating. Are you not well?” - -I could only stammer a few words, and then thrust a whole potato into my -mouth in order to prove my appetite, which, happily, reassured my -mother. - -As soon as dinner was over, I darted to my own room to assure myself -that I had not been dreaming, and that my hero existed in very truth. -The bones and bullets, and the little metal plate, were there still. - -I contemplated them all once more, with a look full of love and -reverence, and went downstairs again, so as to arouse no suspicion. - -Never had I been a better-behaved boy than on that evening. I played -with my little sister as nicely as possible; I was obedient as I had -never been before,—all for fear that some unlucky circumstance might -lead to a discovery of my hero on the part of my parents. - -At last it was time to go to bed. At last I was alone with the sacred -relics of the man who had stood six bullets, without reckoning the -innumerable wounds—to be taken for granted—on his breast! - -I gazed at the bones, brown and dirty as they looked—at the flattened -bullets, and rusty bit of metal, with deep reverence. The plate probably -bore his name; but if so, it was illegible with the dirt. Should I clean -it? I burned with eagerness to know his name, and felt half inclined to -do it; but desisted, thinking that, being rusty, and covered with earth, -it would prove its age much better than if it were bright and polished -up like new. - -At last, after long contemplation of my treasures, I locked them up, and -put the key under my pillow, for fear of burglars. Once in bed, however, -I could get no sleep. All sorts of ideas relating to my hero crossed and -recrossed my brain. - -In the first place, I resolved to make a secret of him. It is a glorious -thing to have a secret all to one’s self—and such a secret! - -It was settled, then—no one was to see or hear anything of him. I alone -was to possess my Hero, and be able to worship Him. - -Then I began to wonder who he could have been, and when he had lived, -and where he had fought and died. - -It was quite clear to me that the six bullets represented but a small -part of his wounds, for it was not possible that he had been killed on -the field of battle by the sixth of those bullets. I knew that the -fallen are always buried on the field of honour. Therefore he must have -died of other wounds,—probably sword-cuts, lance-thrusts, or the -like.... Then I fancied all sorts of biographies for my hero. - -I should have liked best of all for him to have been a Crusader; but I -was forced to give up that idea, seeing that in those days there were no -guns, and therefore no bullets. - -I therefore resolved to seek in more modern times. - -A Water Gueux slain in fight? That, too, would not do. _They_ were -wrapped in a flag, and with a “One, two, three—in God’s name,” let down -into the sea. - -I weighed all possible cases—to reject them again immediately. - -At last I hit upon the following, which satisfied me pretty well:—My -hero had fought in Napoleon’s wars, and was for his valour promoted by -the great Emperor to the rank of general. In all battles he had been -foremost, and many a wound bore witness to his courage. Napoleon had -even chosen out a kingdom for him; when fortune changed, and all nations -rose to free themselves from the power of the great conqueror. - -Then my hero had left his place in the army, and his exalted offices, -and had ranged himself under his country’s flag to serve her as a -private soldier. - -After giving numerous proofs of courage, he was so severely wounded at -the battle of Waterloo,—where he defended the colours of his regiment, -single-handed, against a large number of the foe,—that he felt his end -approaching. And when he knew that the victory was won, he dragged -himself home to his native town to die. - -His funeral was a splendid one, and the fallen hero was buried in a spot -apart from others, who were not thought worthy to be near him, even in -death. - -This last circumstance I added, after long consideration, to explain the -isolated position of my hero’s grave. - -Another difficulty, however, presented itself. Why was there no monument -erected to him? - -The solution of this question cost me no little trouble. In our church -there were two splendid monuments, with beautiful Latin verses on them; -and the men who slept under them were of far less importance than my -hero. But here, too, there was an explanation. My hero himself had said -on his deathbed that he did not wish for a monument, but preferred to -rest simply under the green grass;—his name would live well enough -without one! - -This, however, raised a new difficulty. I had never heard of any hero -buried in the former burying-ground close to the church. Happily, -however, I remembered to have read somewhere that “ingratitude is the -world’s reward.” - -He was forgotten! - -That grieved me deeply; but I determined with myself to revive the -memory of his name, when I should be somewhat older, and could write in -the papers, and become a member of the Useful Knowledge Society. Then I -would tell people how great my hero had been, and how ungratefully the -world had treated him. Till then, he should remain my secret. - -Of course I had adorned him with all sorts of chivalric qualities. I had -seen him in my thoughts as the protector of helpless women, as the -avenger of wrong; I had seen him risk his life at the command of his -superiors, and in order to win one look from his lady. - -And I had ended by endowing him with the crowning grace of modesty. Of -this I was not a little proud. I knew for certain that all the other -boys’ heroes would be brutal and arrogant, and set upon getting -monuments for themselves. - -Mine, however, was modest ... and his reward was oblivion.... Yes—till I -should arise ... _then_ my hero should be greater than all others. - -Happy that now I knew _all_ about my hero, youth and excitement were too -much for me, and I fell asleep. - -Next morning I arose, no longer a boy—not even a man. I was a great man. -I had a task before me. I must give back to my hero his just fame and -honours. - -I had even assumed a new manner!—marbles and suchlike games were now -beneath me,—and I thought the other boys uninteresting and childish. -They, on their part, soon found that I had become tiresome and pedantic, -and asked me if I had come in for a fortune, and was now too much of a -swell for them. I only laughed, and wrapped myself once more in my own -glory. - -This lasted a few days, and then I began to find out that the solitary -enjoyment of glory and a secret was not so great a pleasure as I had -thought. Happily I had two bosom friends—Wil and Ed. - -I resolved, after many heart searchings of heart, to share my wealth -with these two. After I had sworn them to secrecy, and also exacted a -solemn promise that they would not endeavour to appropriate my hero to -themselves, I told them of my discovery, and all I knew of him,—for what -I had myself imagined now seemed like truth to me. I enjoyed their -evident jealousy, and, still more, their admiration and reverence for -me. - -“But, Con,” said Wil at last, “what is the hero’s name, really?” - -I stood aghast. I had never thought of that! But they shall never exult -over me because I did not know the name of my own hero. So I mentioned -the first name that came into my head—“Jan Liller.” - -[Illustration: - - “AFTER I HAD SWORN THEM TO SECRECY.” -] - -Happily, they believed me. - -From that day forward there was a constant whispering among us, a -mystery in our conversation, even on the most unimportant subjects, -which drove all the other boys wild with curiosity. But we revealed -nothing. We had even determined, for fear of discovery, never to speak -of my hero otherwise than as “L. J.”—even when we were alone. J. L. -seemed to us much too dangerous. - -Sometimes little boys were sent out to listen to us, under pretence of -carrying on their games in our neighbourhood. But we were on our guard, -and only talked all sorts of nonsense when the small spies were within -hearing. Thus my secret did not leak out. Yet we could not be silent -altogether. - -In school, when the master told us about the great men of our country, -from Claudius Civilis to William the Silent, we smiled pityingly, and -said to each other, afterwards— - -“L. J. could have done better than that!”—or, “They ought to have tried -L. J.; he could have taught them something!”—and the like—so that we -began to be called “L. J.’s.” But we took great care that no one should -find us out, and were very proud of our secret. - -I say _our_ secret,—yet, after all, it was really mine, for I had shown -the bullets, the metal plate, and the bones neither to Wil nor to Ed. -They thus only knew the half—and no more than I had thought fit to tell -them. The finest and most important part of all was unknown to them. Of -course they acted as if they had been _au fait_ in the whole thing; but -they were nothing of the sort. - -At home, my changed behaviour began gradually to attract general -attention. I had assumed a mysteriousness of demeanour, from which my -father—judging from long experience—argued that there must be some -special piece of mischief on hand. - -As I frequently remained lost in thought, and no longer cared for games -as I used to do (I thought them childish since the discovery of my -hero), my mother came to the conclusion that I was not well; while my -little sister, of course, was as curious as a girl can be. Therefore the -three, each for his or her own reason, were constantly at my heels. I -soon noticed this, and it was no small hindrance to my doings and -projects. - -I scarcely dared to produce my hero, for fear some one should come to my -room unawares and surprise me in the midst of my relics, and so discover -my secret. - -My plans, more especially, were in danger! - -I wished—as a homage to the glorious Jan Liller—to make an elegant -little casket, lined with precious bits of silk, plush, and lace, to -preserve therein his precious relics, and the glorious evidences of his -heroic existence. I intended to make the fretwork casket myself,—but I -durst not do it in the general sitting-room. Whenever I could, I stole -away to my own little room, and went to work there. Once I was surprised -by my mother when very busy; but when she saw my work, she pretended not -to have noticed anything. My conscience reproached me bitterly; for I -understood that my dear mother had thought I was working at a present -for her approaching birthday. - -But, for the moment, my hero took precedence of everything. I hoped to -be able to buy something for my mother’s birthday, trusting to the ready -aid of my father’s purse. - -On a certain day, when I was out for a walk with my father, he suddenly -said to me, “Well, Con, is the digging in the Kerkplein all over? I have -not been there for some time. I suppose you have been there to see -whether anything in your line has been turned up?” - -Did my father suspect anything? and was he fishing? - -I answered evasively. - -“I have not been there since last week.” - -[Illustration: - - “DID MY FATHER SUSPECT ANYTHING?” -] - -That was true—for just a week ago I had found my hero—and after I had -found him, I was satisfied. The charm of rooting about among the graves -had vanished. There was nothing more to find now. - -“I only thought,” said my father, jokingly, “that you had found a -treasure—you are so mysterious lately. Say, my boy, have you grown rich, -and are you going to keep your money all to yourself?” - -“I have never found anything, father,” I stammered, full of shame at the -lie, and yet full of satisfaction at my courage—in daring to tell a -falsehood to save my hero from discovery. - -Happily my father changed the subject, by asking me if I had any present -in view for mother’s birthday. To be honest, I had to answer no, for my -hero had taken up all my thoughts and energies. But just as I was -thinking what to say, a great, a glorious idea rose up in me. What could -be a better present for my mother than my hero? - -At the sacrifice of my secret,—of my own discovery,—I would surprise her -with the revelation of my find, and share my hero with her! It was a -hard struggle, but, once resolved, I could say with cheerful assurance, -“Yes, father, I have something very, very nice!” - -“That’s good, my boy!” said my father, as he patted me approvingly on -the shoulder. “Do your best to make it so, for your mother deserves it.” - -Since the old churchyard had been mentioned, I was eager to find out if -my father knew anything about my hero. Therefore I asked, with as -careless an air as I could assume— - -“Say, father, who used to be buried in that place round the church?” - -“Why, my boy, I don’t know. It must be at least fifty years since that -burying-ground was used. When I came to live here the new cemetery was -already opened, and I really do not know who was buried in the old -place.” - -“But, father, did you never hear of _any_ one that was buried there?” - -“No,” said my father; but, after thinking a little, he went on: “Yes, I -do, though! they buried Kees Van Assen there. I heard so the other day -from Notary Van Tefelen.” - -Could that be my hero? It might well be, why else should the old -burying-ground have been mentioned at the notary’s? - -Surely, then, he must have been a great-uncle or distant cousin of that -odious Alfred, whom we always called “the Muff,” because he never would -join our games for fear of getting bruised and scratched, or soiling his -clothes and hands. - -“Was Van Assen a hero, father?” I uttered the words with difficulty. - -“A hero, my boy? No, certainly not. No, quite the contrary!” - -“A coward, father? I thought as much.” - -“Indeed, and why?” - -“Because that stupid boy of the minister’s is Van Assen too, and he _is_ -a coward!” - -“That does not follow. This Van Assen was not in any way related to the -minister’s family. At least I believe not. But he was not a coward, he -was far worse. He was a traitor to his country. He betrayed the town to -the French.” - -“And what did they do to a low fellow like that?” I asked, full of pain -and indignation that a countryman of mine could have betrayed his native -town to the enemy. - -“At first, nothing; for at that time he was protected by the French. But -when they were gone, his fellow-townsmen razed his house to the ground, -and he was shot.” - -“Then he was buried in the churchyard?” - -“Well, yes; because his family was a rich and distinguished one, they -consented to bury him in the churchyard; but, of course, it was done -without show or splendour. I know no more about it.” - -“Don’t you know in which corner he was buried?” - -“Yes, the corner by the baker’s shop.” - -Now there were two corners of the churchyard which had a baker’s shop -near them. Near one of them, I had found my hero; but he was called Jan -Liller, and not Van Assen! I resolved never more to buy tarts or buns in -the corner where the traitor was buried,—that was accursed from -henceforth. We had been in the habit of going there, because we got far -more for our money than elsewhere. - -It now at once became clear to me that this baker knew of the traitor’s -neighbourhood, and was afraid of losing his customers unless he sold his -goods very cheap! - -I had not thus gained much information by my inquiries. Only I had found -a new point of comparison, my hero _versus_ Van Assen! Jan Liller was -dearer to me than before, now that I could contrast him with a -contemptible Van Assen! My hero had become greater than ever! - -As soon as I reached home, I ran to my own little room, in order to gaze -my fill on his relics—to steep my soul in his greatness. - -On the stairs I felt for my key. - -What was that? It was not in my pocket! I had not lost it—I was certain -of that. Then I must have left it sticking in my box, and in that case -my secret—my hero was lost! - -A terrible fear overcame me. My steps dragged on the stairs. With a -sinking heart I opened my door,—my presentiment had not deceived me! - -There stood my little sister before the open box! - -“You horrid girl—what are you doing with my things? Keep off!” I -screamed, when I saw my secret revealed. - -“But, Con! you had left the key in the lock, and I just looked in!” -cried my sister, terrified. - -[Illustration: - - “DASHED THEM ON THE GROUND!” -] - -“Yes—it’s just like girls—always bothering about things that don’t -concern them. You’re always meddling with everything, and spoiling other -people’s things!” - -“Oh, Con! don’t be so angry! I only just wanted to look! And, just -see,—I’ve been cleaning up this dirty little brass plate that was -inside. I’ve made it look quite nice—and there’s some writing on it.” - -At the same time she thrust the now glittering brass plate into my -hands. - -I looked at it. - -Everything seemed to turn round with me. Everything was black. I could -see nothing but the glittering yellow plate, and the name engraved on -it:— - - KEES VAN ASSEN, - - 1813. - -I dropped the brass plate, seized the bones and the bullets out of the -box, and dashed them on the ground. - -There lay my hero! - - CONRAD VAN DER LIEDE. - - - - - _NEWSPAPER HUMOUR._ - - -To keep apples from spoiling, they should be placed in a cool room in -the house occupied by a family with eight children. - - * * * * * - -_Florist._ “Look at the blush on these roses, sir.” - -_Bachelor_ (_with a look at his purse_). “I see. They must be blushing -at the exorbitant price you charge for them.” - -[Illustration: - - FLORIST: “LOOK AT THE BLUSH ON THESE ROSES, SIR.” -] - - * * * * * - - DOMESTIC MORALITY. - -“You have not been looking sharp, Bet; the butcher has given you more -bones than meat again.” - -_Bet._ “Well, I told him so at the time. I said, _if it was for myself I -wouldn’t take it_.” - - * * * * * - -_Actor._ “When I was last acting here, the public were so enthusiastic, -you can’t imagine. Why, they insisted on _carrying_ me back to the -hotel, when I left the theatre.” - -_Critic._ “Man, man, you don’t mean to say you were so far gone as -_that?_” - - * * * * * - -_Patient._ “Doctor, I think I have had an attack of the gout.” - -_Doctor._ “Stuff and nonsense! if you had really had one, you couldn’t -_think_—you’d know it.” - - * * * * * - -“Father,” inquired a small boy, “what does a ‘Paradise’ mean?” - -“A Paradise, my son, is the corner by the fire when your mother has gone -to stay with her friends for a few days.” - - * * * * * - - A HARMLESS INSECT. - -_Traveller._ “Waiter, how can you give me soup like this?—there’s a fly -in it.” - -_Waiter._ “Oh! _that_ won’t hurt you—it’s quite dead.” - - * * * * * - -A lady having engaged a new man-servant, answering to the name of -Joseph, told him that she would always ring once for him, and twice for -her maid. - -A short time after this, she rang the bell, but Joseph failed to appear. -She grew impatient, and pulled the bell-rope again. The maid entered. - -“I did not ring for you; I wanted Joseph. Why does he not come?” - -“Joseph,” replied the maid, “is sitting by the fire, reading Madame’s -paper. When Madame rang the first time, he told me to look out, for he -should not wonder if you were to ring again. And when Madame did so, he -turned to me, and said, ‘See? that’s for you.’” - - * * * * * - -“Why, ma’am,” said the housemaid, when she heard that her mistress had -been very unwell during the night, “why didn’t you tell me when you felt -ill?” - -“I didn’t want to wake you, you had been working hard all day, and——” - -“Oh! that’s nothing; you might have called me all the same. I sleep so -sound that you would never have waked me.” - - - - - _A RASCALLY VALET._ - - - _A room in a hotel. Tables and chairs are covered with portmanteaus, - carpet-bags, clothes, &c. On a table (L.) is an open jewel-case, - (R.) a sofa; in the background a bed. Frans (Jonker Van Bergen’s - man) is discovered half-reclining on the sofa, smoking a cigar._ - -_Frans_ (_sings_). - - “Mon maître est un filou, - Et moi j’ n’ suis pas bête, la, la....” - -That was indeed a barbarous idea—leaving me at home. “Charité bien -ordonnée commence par soi-même,” as we used to say at Paris. My -gentleman’s gone out a-courting, and I may just sit and grumble in these -confounded lodgings! He hasn’t the smallest grain of feeling. Why -couldn’t he remember that while he’s busy making love to his silly -cousin, and flattering his cracked old aunt,—that is, making fools of -both of them,—I might, in the meanwhile, very appropriately amuse myself -with the maid! - -Pretty little thing, that Sophie! Just a little bit _bête_, still—but -that will come all right in time—I’ll educate her fast enough. We -haven’t been to Paris for nothing. I had views on her already, when we -were here eighteen months ago. She was then a mere child, and I had not -yet seen Notre Dame and the Pont-Neuf. In point of fact, come to think -of it, I was still very young, and not _au fait_ about life. I can -clearly remember getting quite confused when the postman’s flaxen-haired -daughter scolded me for ... come, Frans, let those things rest ... she’s -at rest herself.... How could I help it, if the girl was so gone on me? -Why didn’t her father take better care of her? What is a father for, if -not to look after his daughter? - -What a difference, when I think of those days! Confused! ashamed!—why, I -don’t know the meaning of the words. The only thing I’m ashamed of now, -is that I ever had the _faiblesse_ to be ashamed of anything. And now -that, thanks to my education in the _guinguettes_, I have become quite a -_jeune homme accompli_,—now that I might have begun a nice diversion -with the _suivante_ of my master’s intended, ... now I’m got rid off -with a gruff, “Frans, stay and look after the room!” - -He’ll talk in a different tune when he finds he needs me again to get -him out of some scrape or other. Then it is, “Frans, dear Frans, save -me; I don’t know what I’m to do!” Frans is good enough for that. But -besides this, _au fond_, it’s unjust to leave me here indoors. A man is -a man, and has reason and freewill. Jonker Van Bergen goes out courting. -So we see that beings with reason and freewill do go courting. But I too -am a man; I have freewill and reason—therefore I ought to go out -courting too. That is clear and undeniable. - -Glorious logic! Precious philosophy! Invaluable gift of Heaven, which is -scattered with generous hand at Paris. Beloved nurse of all that ... -that.... - -And with all that I’m sitting here indoors, like Job, on his ancient -sofa. It is annoying; it’s very annoying! It’s the most annoying thing -in the world! It could not possibly be worse; it’s _ennuyant_, -_étouffant_, _embêtant_! - - [_Jumps up angrily, and walks backwards and forwards, smoking._] - -I’m curious to know whether he’ll get through with his business, and -succeed better than last year. The devil grant he may! Otherwise it’s -all up with him—all up—and he’s ruined! If he hasn’t made his -lady-cousin his own, with all that belongs to her [_goes through the -gestures of counting money_], within a month, he’s a dead man! -Physically dead, financially dead, civilly dead,—dead in every possible -way! Dead to _chambertin_, _baronfayol_, and champagne; dead to the -_bouillotte_ table; _dead pour tout ce qui porte un jupon ... -enfin_—burst up! - -This wouldn’t really matter so much if these gentlemen hadn’t the -disagreeable habit of dragging down every one about them in their fall. -[_Makes a wry face._] The cheques! the cheques! - -I am anything but _à monaise_, as we used to say at Paris. We have only -a month before us. Before that time we must have money to pay up, or the -whole thing will go smash. And then he’s quite capable of saying that it -was I who forged the cheques. Then come examinations and -cross-examinations, witnesses _à charge_ and _à décharge_; reply, -duplicate, triplicate, or whatever they call it; and the end of it is -that the President puts on the black cap—grim fashion that!—and has a -sentence read out, in which poor Frans is very badly used on the score -of ... complicity! - -I might indeed get hold of a lawyer who has studied the _circonstances -atténuantes_, as we used to say at Paris; but what’s the good, when the -stupid bench don’t understand them? Civilisation is at such a low ebb in -this land of ours. Quite otherwise over there. I attended a trial in -France ... a woman who had committed the _sottise_ of hacking her child -to pieces, chopping it up small, and cooking it ... what further could -you have? It would have been a bad look-out for her in this country. -Over there, she simply had to take the precaution of providing -_circonstances atténuantes_, ... and she got off all right. That’s what -I call philanthropy—civilisation! Just look for civilisation _here_! -there’s nothing of the sort. Everything is taken ill here. If your -scales or your weights are not quite right, they take it ill of you! If -you call a man a thief or a scoundrel, in the friendliest way in the -world, and can’t produce your proofs on the spot, they take it ill of -you! Just as if those were not the biggest scoundrels of all against -whom nothing can be proved! If you happen to swear falsely, they take -that ill too! Why, not long ago I heard of a man undergoing very -unpleasant treatment in public, because he—it seems incredible—because -he had set his own house on fire! Stupid nation this! Not the faintest -notion of the universal rights of mankind! The house belonged to him; -what business was it of people’s what he did with it? Why shouldn’t he -make a bonfire of it as soon as smoke this “light brown”? (Good cigar, -too!) Yes, they say, but ... his _next-door neighbour_! Stuff and -nonsense! Am _I_ not to illuminate, because somebody else prefers to sit -in darkness? If my next-door neighbour has cat’s eyes, he had better go -and live somewhere else. - -No, no,—that delicate feeling,—that tact,—that talent for making black -white with all the facility in the world, and without fear of -contradiction,—and above all, the glorious _circonstances -atténuantes_,—_all these_ you find only in France! - -Splendid invention, those _circonstances atténuantes_! They are the -lightning-conductor of the Procureur du Roi’s wrath, as we used to say -at Paris. They are galvanism applied to the Code Napoléon. They are ... -in short, they are anything you please. - -Oh, pleasant France! beloved France! When I say France, I mean Paris. -Paris, with its _bals-musard_! Paris, with its _rendezvous_ on the -Boulevards and in the Bois de Boulogne! Paris, with its _limonadières_, -_fruitières_, _bouquetières_, and all other _ières_! - - [_Begins to recite, with exaggerated action._] - - “O France! O precious land! O paradise o’ the world! - I greet thee, though the marsh and mud ... marsh and mud....” - -... well, never mind; I shall hit it some other time. How is one to find -a rhyme to “world”? I ought to have begun differently. But what I mean -is, that if ever I find myself mixed up in this _fâcheuse affaire_ of -the cheques, I shall at once make my native country a present of my -citizenship, and take shares in France. Then I shall have the right of -being attended to by a French court, take a few _circonstances -atténuantes_ with me, and Frans is all right—quits the court without a -stain on his character! - -A greater fool than that young Huser I never saw in all my born days. -Who ever heard of a man letting himself be ill-treated in the place of -another? I never could understand that story. The imbecile! I wish I -knew where to find him; I should go to him, and say, “Huser, my dear -boy, we’ve made a mistake again about a signature or two; do make -yourself responsible for the error—there’s a good fellow.” I believe, -upon my soul! the man would be fool enough to do it over again. I can’t -explain the matter, but I dare swear that Huser, in spite of his sour -face, was the most faithful chum in the world. I would bet something -that he had been brought up at Paris, or at least had a French nurse or -a Swiss _bonne_. Sacrifices like that it would be vain to look for -elsewhere ... [_A knock at the door._] Ho, hey! _entrez_. - - [_Sits down on a chair in the middle of the stage, stretching his - legs straight out in front of him._] - -Look here now, Frans, you must represent your master, the noble and -honourable gentleman, Jonkheer Karel Bernhard Anton Jozef Delmare Van -Bergen Van Wiesendaal! (_Raises his voice._) _Entrez!_ - - _Enter_ GENERAL VAN WELLER, _in undress uniform, with a riding-whip in - his hand_. - -_Frans_ (_without looking round_). Who’s there? - -_Van Weller._ Look round, and perhaps you’ll know. - -_Frans._ I’m just like Louis Napoleon’s knights—I do well, but I don’t -care to look round.[7] - -_Van Weller_ (_looks round with displeasure, then approaches and gazes -fixedly for a few moments at Frans_). No, you are not he. You are too -low-looking a fellow to be my nephew. Who are you? - -_Frans_ (_without changing his position_). In the first place, or, as we -used to say at Paris, _primo_, I must request you to allow me to express -my thanks for your very flattering opinion with regard to my -physiognomy; _secundo_, it would be the proper thing for you to do me -the favour of informing me of _your_ name. - -[Illustration: - - “ENTREZ.” -] - -_Van Weller._ Insolence personified!—my nephew cannot be far off. (_To -Frans._) My name is Jan Weller. Who are you? - -_Frans._ I don’t know. - -_Van Weller._ It is surely your place to know. - -_Frans._ Alas! who in this corrupt age does know himself? At Ephesus, it -was written—— - -_Van Weller._ That does not concern me, or you either. What is your -name? - -_Frans._ That’s another matter. My late master used to call me.... - -_Van Weller_ (_impatiently_). Well? - -_Frans._ ... when he was in a good-humour, “You vagabond!” - -_Van Weller._ Pretty! very pretty! If you keep up this game much longer, -I shall be tempted to write that name on your back with my horsewhip! - -_Frans._ Don’t do that, please. It would cause confusion, as it is not -my name at present. - -_Van Weller_ (_smiling_). Well, tell me your name, then? - -_Frans._ Girls who don’t know me call me “Angel,” or something similar. -Others,—of earlier date,—“scoundrel, wretch, miscreant,” and I don’t -know what all ... mostly words that are not to be found in the -_Dictionnaire de l’Académie_. - -_Van Weller._ Tell me, in the devil’s name, who you are, fellow! - -_Frans._ My mother used to call me Levi.... - -_Van Weller._ Well then? - -_Frans._ Yes, but ... that is not my name. She only called me so, -because there was a Jew of that name who sold vegetables down our -street, and I could imitate him so well. - -_Van Weller._ It is enough to exhaust any man’s patience! Speak out, -once for all, in whose rooms am I? - - [ANDRIES _puts his head in at the door_.] - -_Andries._ Are you here, General? - -_Frans_ (_springs to his feet_). General? Your obedient servant! - -_Van Weller_ (_to Andries_). Come in! [_Enter Andries._] Ask this fellow -his name. If he does not answer briefly, and to the point, as soon as I -give the word “March!” you take him by the collar and throw him out of -window. - - [_Andries salutes, turns on his heel, and marches up to Frans. Frans - approaches the bed._] - -_Van Weller._(_to Frans_). What are you going to do? - -_Frans._ With your permission, General ... I have always been a lover of -military exercises, but being only a civilian I am not at all well up in -window-throwing drill, and so, I thought, a couple of pillows on the -pavement.... - -_Van Weller._ Andries, bring the fellow here! - - [_Points to the floor with his riding-whip. Frans escapes Andries - who walks toward him with a stiff military step._] - -_Van Weller._ Quick march! Seize him, and bring him here! - - [_Sits down. Andries seizes Frans, and drags him roughly to the spot - indicated, but in such a manner that Frans stands with his back - to the General._] - -_Van Weller._ Right about face! - - [_Andries turns Frans round by the shoulders, forcing him to face - the General,—then takes a step backward, and remains standing at - attention._] - -_Van Weller._ (_throws the riding-whip to Andries_). Take it! Now, -attend! When I say “Out!” you begin to thrash him till the word is given -to stop. (_To Frans._) What is your name? - -_Frans._ I have already told you, sir, that my mother— - -_Van Weller._ Out! - - [_Andries lays on with the whip._] - -_Frans._ No—no—oh!—my name is Frans Varel, General! - -_Van Weller._ Leave out the “General!” for the future. And the “oh!” -also. Answer briefly what I ask you—no more, no less. What is your -profession? - -_Frans._ Valet, or rather secretary, to—— - -_Van Weller._ Enough! Who is your master? - -_Frans._ Jonkheer Van Bergen. - -_Van Weller._ Just so, that must be the right man! Has he any other name -besides Bergen? - -_Frans._ My master’s full name is Jonkheer Karel Bernhard Anton Jozef -Delmare Van Bergen Van Wiesendaal. (_Aside._) Oh! how miserably I’m -representing him! - -_Van Weller._ How old is your master? - -_Frans._ I think he is twenty-eight. - -_Van Weller._ The same! the same! How long have you been in his service? - -_Frans._ We grew up together. - -_Van Weller._ Then you knew his father? - -_Frans._ Certainly. It was he who used to call me “vagabond,” when—— - -_Van Weller._ That is not what I am asking. How long is it since the old -gentleman died? - -_Frans_ (_considering_). Fifteen or sixteen years. - -_Van Weller._ Did he die of an illness? - -_Frans._ He certainly did not die of health. - -_Van Weller_ (_impatiently_). Speak out—what did he die of? - -_Frans._ Of ... of ... an exaggerated sense of honour. - -_Van Weller._ Speak plainly, fellow, or I’ll give the word! Relate what -happened shortly before his death. - -_Frans._ Shortly before his death.... - -_Van Weller._ Well—be quick! - -_Frans._ He was still alive. - -_Van Weller_ (_angrily_). Out! - - [_Andries lays on with the whip._] - -_Frans_ (_quickly_). Stop! - -_Van Weller_(_to Andries_). Why are you not thrashing him as I told you? -You hear him trying to make a fool of me! - -_Andries._ The word was given to stop, General. - -_Van Weller._ He gave it, not I! - -_Andries._ There was nothing about that in the orders, General. - -_Van Weller._ I am in sole command here, of course. Now speak, you -scoundrel, quickly! _Out_—— - -_Frans._ Oh, sir! I’m beginning! The next day—— - -_Van Weller._ What? What day? I know nothing yet! - -_Frans._ Monsieur Socrates also knew nothing. The recognition of this -fact is the source of all wisdom, General. I am telling you the story in -my own way, beginning at the end. I belong to the school of M. Dumas and -M. Sue. - -_Van Weller._ Don’t wear out my patience any longer, fellow! Relate -consecutively what took place on the last day of Mr Van Bergen’s life. - -_Frans._ He got up at half-past four in the morning, and put on his -socks and boots. I did not see this, but I am induced to believe it, as -he appeared, a little later, with his boots and spurs on. It is thus a -fair inference that he had just put them on, unless, like M. Charles -Douze, he had been sleeping in them—in which case.... - -_Van Weller._ Are you quite incorrigible? Don’t tell me the story like -that! - -_Frans._ Am _I_ to blame? _N’est pas conteur qui veut._ I did not -profess to be a good story-teller, General. - -_Van Weller._ Silence! I ask you for the last time whether you are -willing to relate, in a proper manner, what you know of the affair? - -_Frans._ About Charles Douze? He was born—— - -_Van Weller._ Out! - - [_Andries strikes Frans with the whip, several times._] - -_Frans._ Ai! ai!—oh! General!—I’ll tell you everything! - -_Van Weller._ Stop! (_To Frans._) Now go on, and think of your back. - -_Frans._ The old gentleman had come back from an assembly at Court, the -evening before, very much put out. They said he had had a quarrel, and -was to fight a duel next day. I only know this by tradition, as you may -say, because I and the young master were under arrest, locked up in the -summer house, because we had stolen apri—— - -_Van Weller._ Never mind the apricots, and tell me about the duel. - -_Frans._ Well, then—my master must have slept very badly that night. -This, too, I only know by way of tradition; and since tradition -represents the border-land between the dark region of myth and the -daylight of history—— - -_Van Weller._ Out—— - -_Frans._ Ow!—wait—listen! Next morning he went out at five o’clock, and -came home at half-past six, mortally wounded. He had a bullet in his -left breast, whence I infer that he had been shot. But I cannot with -certainty—— - -_Van Weller._ Silence! Who was his adversary? - -_Frans._ That I do not know. The coachman who drove the master out, -said.... - -_Van Weller_ (_impatiently_). Well? - -_Frans._ Said he did not know either. - -_Van Weller_ (_stamps his foot_). Did your master die soon after? - -_Frans._ Yes—at half-past one that afternoon ... as near as I can guess. -For, you see, as the young gentleman had fastened a frog to the pendulum -of the big clock that stood in the hall—— - -_Van Weller._ To the deuce with your frogs and your clocks! Answer -me—did any one come to see Bergen before his death? - -_Frans._ Yes; three officers, one of them a major. - -_Van Weller_ (_aside_). Ah! that was Huser. (_To Frans._) What happened -then? - -_Frans._ They were admitted to see him, but the servants were sent away. -But as I have always been very fond of tragedy scenes, I managed to peep -through the keyhole; and I saw that the Major fell on his knees beside -the bed, and cried. The kneeling was very well done ... his _contenance_ -was simply perfect ... I was all attention. Old Mr Van Bergen held out -his hand to him, and said—— - -_Van Weller_ (_rising quickly_). That is just what I want to know—go on! - -_Frans._ That he was thirsty. - -_Van Weller_ (_sits down again, as if disappointed_). That’s not what I -meant. Go on! - -_Frans._ They gave him something to drink. Then he sat up in bed, and -put his arms round that officer. “Let us part in peace,” he said, “_sans -rancune_!” The officer kept on crying, and said, “Can you ever forgive -me, Bergen?” The master smiled, and said, “Gladly! gladly!—_sans -rancune_, dearest——” - -_Van Weller._ Well—dearest _what?_ - -_Frans._ I couldn’t catch the name. And I never saw that Major again. I -heard that he died about six months later. - -_Van Weller_ (_aside_). It must have been Huser—not a doubt about it! -(_To Frans._) And then? What happened next? - -_Frans._ The wounded man asked one of the officers to call his little -Charles—that was the young master, who was still in the summer-house—_I_ -had got out.... The young gentleman came up to the bed, and, instead of -being pleased at getting out sooner than he expected, he began to cry -too. - -_Van Weller._ Go on, go on! - -_Frans._ After being silent for some time, the master said to the -Major—— - -_Van Weller._ Go on, do, fellow! I’ve been waiting for that about an -hour! - -_Frans._ He said,—“Don’t distress yourself over my death. It was in fair -fight. My fate might have been yours. Only—be a father to my poor -Charles!” - -_Van Weller._ What next? - -_Frans._ The Major began to sob again, and cried, “I swear to you I -will!” Then Baron Van Bergen smiled pleasantly, held out his hand to him -once more, and died. [_V. W. remains lost in thought._] It was a -touching scene, General. The old gentleman died almost as naturally as -M. Furneau of the Théâtre Royal. I should have been quite overcome with -emotion if the other two officers had possessed any knowledge of the -stage. They seemed to be novices, who had never been in Paris. Not the -faintest idea of tragic action—they didn’t even wring their hands! Of -course that of itself gave them a stupid attitude—— - -_Van Weller._ Will you hold your tongue? How was it that you never saw -this officer again? - -_Frans._ They said in the kitchen that he was abroad with his son, and -that when he came home he was going to take Master Charles with him. But -he never came back. - -_Van Weller._ And his son? - -_Frans._ I never heard anything about him. - -_Van Weller._ Have you ever seen him? - -_Frans._ Never. - -_Van Weller_ (_aside_). I think the fellow is lying. (_To Frans._) Did -you ever know a man by the name of Huser? - -_Frans._ Huser? Yes, very well indeed. He was the young master’s -greatest friend. Or rather—for they weren’t exactly friends—he was ... -he did ... he gave ... well, I never quite knew what to make of that -Huser. - -_Van Weller._ Now we’re getting near it! What became of Huser? - -_Frans._ H’m!—nothing much! ... he did not turn out anything to boast -of, General. He was careless,—he was fast ... that is to say, he wasn’t -exactly that. He gambled ... at least, no, he never gambled. But ... in -short, I don’t know anything about it. All I know is, that he came to -smash in the end. - -_Van Weller_ (_aside_). Poor Gustav! poor boy! (_To Frans._) Go on, man, -tell me all you know. - -_Frans._ He had a difference of opinion with the Procureur du Roi, as we -used to say at Paris. He had been imprudent—(_whispers_)—forged -cheques!—people took it ill of him,—and—you know the law, General! - -_Van Weller_ (_aside_). Poor boy! (_To Frans._) But how was that -possible? Was he in debt? - -_Frans._ On the contrary, his father had left him plenty of money, and -he lived very economically. - -_Van Weller._ And he did not play, you say? - -_Frans._ Never. He had old-fashioned notions on that head. - -_Van Weller._ Was he, perhaps, given to courting? - -_Frans._ Oh! no—he was too stiff and solemn for that. He always looked -sulky and discontented. He was a tiresome sort of fellow. I think, even, -that he used to make verses. - -_Van Weller._ And he was your master’s friend? - -_Frans._ No, and ... yes! He was always with us, and at our rooms. He -always helped the young master when he had the chance; but afterwards he -used to give it him like blazes. - -_Van Weller._ Strange, very strange! And how long ago is that? - -_Frans._ Four years. - -_Van Weller._ What was your master doing then? - -_Frans._ Nothing. - -_Van Weller._ How? I thought he was at the university. - -_Frans._ Well—studying, and doing nothing—that comes pretty much to the -same thing. - -_Van Weller._ And this Huser? - -_Frans._ Before that _fâcheux évènement_ I spoke of, he was studying -too. I think he wanted to be a lawyer.... - -_Van Weller._ Silence! Nothing but what I ask you! Is your master a good -sort of man? - -_Frans._ He might certainly be better. - -_Van Weller._ Silence! You deserve a good thrashing. He is a bad servant -that speaks ill of his master. If I ask you any question that you would -injure your master by answering, then you are to hold your tongue. Do -you understand? I don’t want to make any traitors. Remember this -carefully, or I shall give the word. Did your master play high at the -university? [_Frans is silent._] ... So—he’s silent ... therefore our -young gentleman _did_ play ... therefore he is betraying his master by -his silence.... Out! - - [_Andries strikes him._] - -_Frans._ Oh! my dear good gentleman, what _am_ I to say? No, no, the -young master never gambled. - -_Van Weller._ He lies! Yes—I forgot to say that if you don’t tell the -truth, I shall give the word too. Did your master gamble at the -university? Out! - - [_Andries again raises the whip._] - -_Frans_ (_points to the window_). Fire! fire! for heaven’s sake!—save -yourselves! ... fire! - - [_The General hastens to the window. Andries remains rigidly at his - post. Frans runs to the door._] - -_Frans._ I should have done that sooner. (_With a low bow._) General, -your humble servant. - - [_Exit._ - -_Van Weller_ (_returning from the window_). I see nothing, absolutely -nothing. Where is the fellow? - -_Andries._ He’s run away, General. - -_Van Weller._ Why didn’t you hold him? - -_Andries._ That was not in the orders, sir. - -_Van Weller._ The scoundrel has been making a fool of me! Never mind—I -know enough for the present. Do you know him, Andries? - -_Andries._ Yes, sir, he’s a good-for-nothing fellow. - -_Van Weller._ Of course—like master, like man! - - _Enter_ SOPHIE, _with a note_. - -_Sophie._ You here, Andries? (_Looks at General V. W._) Who’s this man? - -_Andries._ Hush—sh! - -_Van Weller_ (_to Andries_). Silence! (_To Sophie._) What do you want -here, my girl? - -_Sophie_ (_looks hard at him_). I have a note for young Mr Van Bergen’s -man. (_To Andries._) Hasn’t Frans been here? Surely this is the -gentleman’s room? He said number four, and—— - -_Van Weller._ Just give me that note. - -_Sophie._ Are you Mr Van Bergen’s man too? - -_Van Weller._ Yes. Give it here. - -_Sophie_ (_to Andries_). Will it be all right if I give it to this man? -[_Andries does not answer._] Good gracious! what’s the matter? Why are -you standing there as glum and stiff as if you were on parade? - - [_Tries to seize his hand, but he pushes her gently back._] - -_Andries_ (_nodding towards the General, who is watching them with an -air of amusement_). Eh! - -_Sophie_ (_shakes him by the arm_). Do speak! What is it? - -_Andries._ Eh! - -_Sophie._ Has _he_ made you like that? (_To Van Weller._) What does this -mean? I don’t like it. It doesn’t suit me at all. May I ask you, for the -last time, to tell me what it means? [_Van Weller laughs heartily._] -Still better! He thinks he’s making a fool of me. [_Turns to Andries and -shakes his arm again._] Andries, Andries, do speak, or I shall be angry! - -_Andries_ (_under his breath_). Do be quiet! It’s the General! - -[Illustration: - - “ENTER SOPHIE WITH A NOTE.” -] - -_Sophie._ Oh! (_Turns to Van Weller._) Please, sir, may I ask why you -wouldn’t let Andries go out on leave the other day? That was not nice of -you. I’d—— - -_Van Weller_ (_to Andries_). Who is this pretty child? - -_Andries._ She’s Mam’zelle Sophie, Freule Van Wachler’s maid. - -_Van Weller._ Why, that’s fortunate! (_To Sophie._) Well, and how is my -sister Koosje? - -_Sophie_ (_surprised_). Your sister Koosje, sir? - -_Van Weller._ Yes—Mevrouw Wachler! - -_Sophie_ (_curtseys_). Very well, sir. (_To Andries._) Think of that—I -never knew that the mistress’s Christian name was Koosje. Why, that’s a -name any one of us might have! - -_Van Weller_ (_to Andries_). Are you in love with this charming -creature? - -_Andries._ With your permission,—yes, General. - -_Sophie._ _That’s_ nice of you, Andries! _I_ never asked any one’s -permission. And supposing the gentleman were to say, No? - -_Van Weller._ Well, well,—you may make your mind easy,—I won’t say No! -(_To Andries, calling him aside._) Something has just occurred to me. I -don’t want that rascal to tell his master that I have been questioning -him. Does he care about...? [_makes the gesture of drinking_]. - -_Andries._ Yes, General. - -_Van Weller._ And try to persuade your sweetheart to stay here a little. -I should like to talk to her. - -_Andries._ Yes, General. (_To Sophie._) Just give your note to the -General, Sophie, and answer him nicely if he asks anything, and be as -pleasant and polite as you can. Remember, he can let me off on leave! - - [_Salutes, and turns to go, but comes back._] - -_Van Weller._ Well—what is it now? - -_Andries._ Am _I_ to be drunk, too, General? - -_Van Weller._ No need for that! March! - - [_Exit Andries._ - -_Sophie._ Do you wish to take the note, sir? - -_Van Weller._ Just lay it down here. - -_Sophie._ But I think there’s some hurry about it. The young gentleman -said I was to bring a key back with me. - - [_Van Weller takes the note, and reads it, with gestures of - astonishment. Looking round, he sees the casket. He goes up to - it, and stands still, lost in thought. At last he takes the key - out of the lock and gives it to Sophie._] - -_Van Weller._ There’s the key, my girl. You have done your errand -well—so go now—just go. - -_Sophie._ But Andries said you wanted to talk to me. - -_Van Weller._ Yes ... no ... it’s hardly needed now.... Or.... -(_hesitating_) How are things going, Sophie?—is there to be a wedding -soon? - -_Sophie_ (_confused_). Yes—if Andries.... - -_Van Weller._ I’m not speaking of Andries now—I mean in the Van Wachler -family. - -_Sophie._ Ah! I think there will, indeed! for the young lady has three -lovers. - -_Van Weller._ That’s enough to begin with. I had only heard of one. And -who are they? - -_Sophie_ (_counts on her fingers_). First, Jonkar Van Bergen,—then the -music-master, Holm,—and the third is old Mr Buys. - -_Van Weller._ What do you say?—a music-master? - -_Sophie._ Oh, don’t laugh at him, sir—he’s such a good man! It’s only a -pity that he’s always so sad. - -_Van Weller._ And why do you think he is one of the young lady’s lovers? - -_Sophie._ Why—because Mr Van Wachler said so himself. - -_Van Weller._ Surely you misunderstood him, my good girl. - -_Sophie._ Why so? For my part, I should prefer him to Jonkar Van Bergen. -Mr Holm is less merry and cheerful, but then one can see that he has had -his troubles. They say he is a prince, who has for some reason or other -turned music-master,—but I’m not sure of that. - -_Van Weller._ And Jonkar Karel? - -_Sophie._ Jonkar Van Bergen is—but please don’t say I said so, sir—I -don’t think he is to be trusted. This morning, he had been talking to -Madame about the young lady and Mr Holm—Madame is very much opposed to -the music-master.... - -_Van Weller._ That I can well believe! - -_Sophie._ Well ... he put his arm round her neck and kissed her, and -when she was out of the room he made fun of her, though she had just -been calling him “_charmant garçon_.” Later on, I heard him say, “Just -as silly as ever! She’ll choke with her affection some day!” Now, do you -call that a man to be trusted, sir? - -_Van Weller._ No, not exactly. [_Chucks her under the chin._] But old -Buys now?—how did you come to think of him? - -_Sophie._ I don’t quite understand how it is. I never used to notice -anything. He is nearly as old as you, sir—and one can’t love a man like -that, can one? - -_Van Weller_ (_with a start_). Ah! - -_Sophie._ I mean love like—love as one—— - -_Van Weller._ Yes, yes, I understand. I’ll make you a present of the -explanation. - -_Sophie._ Well—I know nothing about it—but, the other day, when I went -up to her sitting-room—now don’t say I told you, sir! - -_Van Weller._ No, no—just go on. - -_Sophie._ She was sitting on his knee, and he kissed her. - -_Van Weller._ Well, I’m surprised at my niece! - -_Sophie._ Oh! don’t think any harm of her, sir! The three lovers is the -only thing, and I don’t think the worse of her for that! If I were a -man, I’d want to be her lover too,—I’m sure I would! - -_Van Weller_ (_aside_). I think I must be on the track. (_To Sophie._) -Look here, can you hold your tongue? - -_Sophie._ Yes—when I’ve nothing to say. - -_Van Weller._ When you get home, don’t mention having seen me. I have -just returned from Java, and want to surprise the family. Give young Mr -Karel the key, and say you had it from Frans. - -_Sophie._ But—that would be a story. - -_Van Weller._ Did you never tell a fib in your life? - -_Sophie_ (_after thinking a while_). Only once—when Andries asked me -whether.... - -_Van Weller._ All right, my child. Say whatever you like. - -_Sophie_ (_coaxingly_). Please, sir, if Andries asks for leave—— - -_Van Weller._ He shall get it! If I were Andries, and had a sweetheart -like you, I should have deserted long ago! - - [_Exit Sophie._ - -_Van Weller_ (_alone_). I shall find him—I must find him!—on my soul I -will find him. [_Starts, as if remembering something._] That note!—there -was something about Huser in it. [_Takes it up and reads._] “Frans, lock -the casket at once,—I forgot it. There are letters from Huser in it that -concern us alone. Send me the key.” Why is he so anxious to keep these -letters secret, as if the existence of the State depended on the -publication of a student’s correspondence? I left the box open—but it’s -not honest, Weller! [_Walks up and down, as if in doubt._] It’s not -honest. But, Gustaf!—perhaps it will help me to trace him! I _will_ read -them! [_He goes up to the box, takes out some papers, looks at them, and -lays them aside. At last he comes to one which he appears to -recognise._] That’s Gustaf’s hand. [_Sits down, reads, and seems much -disturbed. At last he jumps up._] Andries! Yes, my presentiment did not -deceive me! Oh! my noble boy, where are you? Gustaf! Gustaf! But that -scoundrel—that Karel Van Bergen,—who, Heaven mend it! calls himself my -nephew. I must see him! He shan’t have that girl of my sister’s, though -she were ten times as much of a coquette, and had twenty lovers instead -of three! She would still be too good for him! Andries! - - _Enter_ FRANS, _intoxicated_. - -_Frans_ (_sings_). - - “Mon maître est an filou - Et moi j’ n’ suis pas bête ... la ... la....” - -Ah! good-morning! good-morning! _Mon maître est un filou._ Oh, yes! but -we’ve had _circonstances_, splendid _circonstances_—to begin with. - -_Van Weller._ Andries! - -_Frans._ Andries is a good fellow, a downright good fellow—but just the -least bit _bête_. Never been to Paris, sir? Are you coming to Paris? -_Allons mourir pour la patrie._ - - [_Approaches the General._] - -_Van Weller_ (_pushes him away roughly, so that Frans falls on the -sofa_). Lie there, beast! Andries! - -_Frans_ (_muttering_). _Mon maître est un filou...._ [_Falls asleep._] - - _Enter_ ANDRIES. - -_Van Weller_ (_stamps his foot_). Where the devil have you been all this -time, fellow? Get the horses—at once—I must see the king immediately! -[_Exit Andries._] My poor boy shall be righted, or they shall never hear -the last of it! - - MULTATULI. - (_From_ “_The Bride in Heaven_.”) - - - - - _DROOGSTOPPEL INTRODUCES HIMSELF._ - - -I am a coffee-broker, and live at No. 37 Lauriergracht. It is not my -custom to write novels, or any such thing; so it was a long time before -I made up my mind to order a couple of reams of paper and begin the work -which you, dear reader, have just taken up, and which you ought to read -if you are in the coffee business,—or, in fact, if you are anything -else. And not only have I never written anything which was in the least -like a novel, but I don’t hold with even reading anything of the sort, -because I am a man of business. For several years past, I have been -asking myself, what is the use of such things? and I am perfectly amazed -at the impudence of poets and novelists in palming off upon you things -which have never happened, and, for the most part, never can happen. -Now, in _my_ business,—I am a coffee-broker, and live in the -Lauriergracht, No. 37,—if I were to send in to a principal (a principal -is a man who sells coffee) an account containing only a small part of -the untruths which are the main point in all poems and romances—why, he -would at once go to Busselinck & Waterman. (Busselinck & Waterman are -coffee-brokers too; but it is not necessary for you to know _their_ -address.) So I take good care not to write any novels, or send in wrong -accounts. I have always noticed that persons who let themselves in for -that kind of thing generally get the worst of it. I am forty-three, and -have been at the Exchange for twenty years, so that I have every right -to put myself forward when a man of experience is in demand. I have seen -plenty of firms fail in my time! And usually, when I examined into the -causes of their failure, it seemed to me that they must be sought for in -the wrong direction given to most people in their youth. - -_I_ say, “truth and sound sense!” and that I stick to. The mistake comes -in, in the first place, with Van Alphen;[8] and that in his very first -line about the “dear little creatures.” What on earth could induce this -old gentleman to call himself an adorer of my little sister Truitje, who -had sore eyes; or of my brother Gerrit, who was always biting his nails? -And yet he says that “he sang these verses, compelled by love.” I used -often to think, when I was a child, “Man, I _should_ like to meet you, -just for once—and then, if you refused me the marbles I should ask you -for, or the whole of my name in chocolate letters” (my name is Batavus), -“then I should consider you a liar.” But I never saw Van Alphen. I think -he was already dead when he used to tell us that my father was my best -friend. I thought far more of Pauweltje Winser, who lived next door to -us. And that my little dog was so grateful for kindness! We never kept -dogs, because they are dirty. - -That is the way children are brought up; and, later on, come other lies -again. A girl is an angel! The man who was the first to discover that, -never had any sisters of his own. Love is bliss! One is going to fly, -with one object or another, to the end of the earth. The earth has no -ends; and, besides, love is madness. No one can say that I do not live -happily with my wife,—she is a daughter of Last & Co., coffee-brokers. I -am a member of _Artis_,[9]—she has a shawl that cost ninety-two -florins,—and yet there was never any question between us of a foolish -love like that, which insists on living at the very end of the earth! -When we were married, we made a little tour to the Hague, she bought -some flannel there, and I am wearing under-vests made of it to this -day,—but love never drove us out into the world any farther than that. -Thus, it is all madness, and lies together!... It is not verses alone -that seduce the young into untruthfulness. Just go into the theatre, and -listen to the falsehoods that are being spread abroad there! The hero of -the play is pulled out of the water by some fellow on the point of going -into the bankruptcy court. Then he gives the fellow half his fortune. -That cannot happen! Not long ago, when my hat was blown into the -Prinsengracht I gave the man who brought it back to me twopence, and he -was quite satisfied. Of course, I know I should have had to give -something more if it had been myself that he pulled out, but certainly -not half what I possess. Why, it is quite clear that, on this principle, -one need only fall into the water twice to be ruined! But the worst of -it is, with such things represented on the stage, the public gets so -accustomed to all these falsehoods, that it thinks them fine, and -applauds them. I should just like to throw a whole pit full of such -people into the water, and see whose applause was sincere. I, who hold -by the truth, warn every one that I am not going to pay so high a -salvage for the fishing up of my person. Any one who is not satisfied -with less, may just let me stay where I am. On a Sunday, however, I -should pay rather more, because then I wear my gold watch-chain, and my -best coat. - -Yes! the stage ruins many—still more than the novels. It looks so well! -With a little gold tinsel and paper lace, things can be made so -attractive. For children, that is to say; and for people who are not in -business. Even when they want to represent poverty on the stage, the -picture given is always a false one. A girl, whose father has gone -bankrupt, is working to keep the family. Very good! There she sits, -then, sewing, knitting, or embroidering. But just count the stitches -that she takes in the course of the whole scene. She talks, she -sighs,—she keeps running to the window,—but she does not work. The -family who can live on such work as this, must have few wants indeed! Of -course a girl like this is the heroine. She has thrown several villains -down the stairs. She continually calls out, “Oh! my mother! my mother!” -and thus represents virtue. What sort of a virtue do you call that, that -takes a year to finish a pair of woollen socks? Does not all this give -people wrong ideas about virtue and working for their living? - -[Illustration: - - “AND HE WAS QUITE SATISFIED.” -] - -Then her first lover—he was formerly a clerk at the copying-book, but -now a millionaire—suddenly comes back and marries her. Lies again. A man -with money will never marry a girl from a house that has failed.... And -then—virtue rewarded! I have had plenty of experience in my time; but -still it shocks me terribly when I see truth perverted in this way. -Virtue rewarded! Isn’t it just like making a traffic out of virtue? It -is not so in this world, and a very good thing it is that it is not. -Where is the merit of being virtuous, if virtue is to be rewarded? Now, -I am as virtuous as most people, but do I expect to be rewarded for it? -If my business goes on well,—which, in fact, it does;—if my wife and -children keep in health, so that I have no worry with the doctor and -chemist;—if, year by year, I can put away a little sum for my old -age ...;—if Fritz grows up a good man of business, so that he can step -into my shoes when I retire and go to live at Driebergen, ...—well, if -all these things are so, I am quite content. But all that is a natural -result of circumstances, and of my attention to business. I don’t ask -for any special reward for my virtue. - -That I am virtuous, is quite evident from my love for truth. This—next -to my attachment to our orthodox belief—is my ruling passion. And I -should like the reader to be quite convinced of this, because it is my -excuse for writing this book. - -A second passion, which rules me quite as much, is my devotion to my -business. And it is these two which have caused me to write this book. I -am now going to explain how this happened. - - MULTATULI. - (_From “Max Havelaar.”_) - - - - - _DROOGSTOPPEL PAYS A CHARITABLE VISIT._ - - - Droogstoppel had undertaken to publish a volume selected from the MSS. - of his old schoolfellow Havelaar—_alias_ “Sjaalman,”—who had returned - from the Indies in great poverty. He was preparing it for the press - with the help of his son Fritz and his German clerk Stern. He soon - found that the work involved difficulties. - -Besides the difficulty of selecting and arranging what was necessary out -of such a mass of materials, there were constantly occurring in the MSS. -words and expressions which Stern could not understand, and which were -new even to me. They were mostly Javanese or Malay. Moreover, many -abbreviations were used, which were difficult to decipher. I saw that we -needed Sjaalman, and as I do not think it good for a young man to pick -up undesirable acquaintances, I was unwilling to send either Stern or -Fritz. I took with me some sweets that had remained over from our last -party,—for I am always one to think of things like that,—and I set out -to look for his abode. It was not a very brilliant one,—but there is no -such thing as equality among people, so how can they all expect to live -in the same sort of houses? He says something of the same kind himself -in his essay on “Claims to Happiness.” Besides, I don’t think anything -of people who are always discontented. - -It was in the Langeleidsche Dwarsstraat, in a back-room upstairs. The -ground floor was occupied by a second-hand dealer, who sold all sorts of -things—cups and saucers, furniture, old books, glass, pictures by Van -Speyk, and I don’t know what else. I was terribly afraid of breaking -something; for in such a case the people always charge you more than the -things are worth. A little girl was sitting on the steps, dressing her -doll. I asked her whether Mr Sjaalman lived there. She ran away, and -presently her mother came. - -[Illustration: - - “A SECOND-HAND DEALER, WHO SOLD ALL SORTS OF THINGS.” -] - -“Yes, he lives here, sir. Just you go upstairs to the first door, and -then up the next floor to the next door, and then another flight of -stairs, and then you can’t miss it. Mijntje, just run up and say there’s -a gentleman. Who shall I say is asking for them, sir?” - -I told her I was Mijnheer Droogstoppel, coffee-broker in the -Lauriergracht, but that I would announce myself. I climbed up as high as -they had told me, and heard a child’s voice singing inside the door on -the third floor. I knocked, and the door was opened by a woman—or a -lady. I really did not quite know what to make of her; she looked very -pale, and tired, and the look in her face made me think of my wife on -washing-day. She was dressed in a long white shirt or jacket, without a -waist, that hung down to her knees, and was fastened in front with a -black pin. Under this, instead of a proper skirt or petticoat, she wore -a piece of dark flowered linen, wound round her several times, and -rather tight at hips and knees. There was no trace of folds, width, or -fulness, such as there ought to be in any decent woman’s dress. I was -glad I had not sent Fritz, for I thought her costume very indelicate; -and what made it still stranger was the ease with which she moved—as if -she felt quite comfortable like that. The creature seemed quite -unconscious that she did not look like other women. Moreover, she did -not seem in the least embarrassed at my coming. She hid nothing under -the table, and did not push the chairs about, or do any of the things -you always see people do when a respectably dressed stranger comes in. - -She had her hair combed back like a Chinese, and fastened behind her -head in a sort of twist or knot. I have heard since that her dress was a -sort of Indian costume, which they call _sarong_ and _kaabai_ out there, -but I thought the whole thing very ugly. - -“Are you Juffrouw Sjaalman?” I asked. - -[Illustration: - - “A LONG WHITE SHIRT OR JACKET.” -] - -“Whom have I the honour of speaking to?” she said, in a tone that seemed -to convey that I ought to have said something about _honour_ too. - -Well—I don’t hold with compliments. A principal is a different matter, -and I have been in business long enough to know what I am about; but I -didn’t think it necessary to use much ceremony in a third-floor back. So -I said, without more ado, that I was Mijnheer Droogstoppel, -coffee-broker, Lauriergracht, No. 37, and I wanted to see her husband. -Well—and why should I have made any more fuss about it? - -She offered me a rush-bottomed chair, and took a little girl on her lap, -who was sitting on the ground playing. The little boy, whom I had heard -singing, looked full at me, and stared at me from top to toe. He, too, -did not seem in the least embarrassed. He was a little chap of about -six, as queerly dressed as his mother. He had on a wide pair of -knickerbockers that did not come down to the knees; and his legs were -bare from there to the ankle. Very indecent, I think. “Have you come to -talk to papa?” he asked, in a way which showed me at once that his -upbringing was not at all what it ought to be. But because I did not -quite know what attitude to take up, and also wanted to talk a little, I -answered, “Yes, my little fellow, I want to talk to your papa. Do you -think he will be coming in soon?” - -“I don’t know; he’s gone out to look for some money to buy me a -paint-box.” - -“Hush, my boy,” said the woman. “Play with the pictures a little, or -with your Chinese puzzle-box.” - -“Why, you know the gentleman came and took all the things away -yesterday.” - -So that was the way he spoke to his mother—h’m! ... and there had been -“a gentleman,” it appeared, to “take everything away.” ... Cheerful -visit, this! The woman, too, did not look in good spirits; she turned -away and wiped her eyes, when she thought I could not see her, as she -put the little girl down on the floor beside her brother. “There,” she -said, “now play with Nonnie a little.” An extraordinary name for a -child. - -“Well, Juffrouw,” I asked, “do you expect your husband in soon?” - -“I cannot say for certain,” she answered. - -At this the little boy suddenly left his sister, came up to me, and -asked, - -“Sir, why do you call mamma Juffrouw?”[10] - -“Why, what then, youngster?” said I, “what ought I to say?” - -“Why ... just like other people. The Juffrouw lives downstairs—she sells -saucers and tops.” - -Well—I am a coffee-broker—Last & Co., Lauriergracht, 37—there are -thirteen of us in the counting-house, and, if you count Stern, who gets -no salary, fourteen. And yet my wife is simply called _Juffrouw_; and -does any one expect me to go and say _Mevrouw_ to _that_ person? -Certainly not. Every one ought to keep his place; and what’s more, the -sheriff’s officers had been there the day before, and taken away the -furniture. So I thought it quite the proper thing to say _Juffrouw_, and -stuck to it. - -I asked why Sjaalman has not come to my house to fetch back his parcel. -She seemed to know all about it, and said that they had been away—at -Brussels. He had been writing for the _Indépendance_ there, but had been -obliged to give it up, because the paper had so often been refused -admission into France on account of his articles. They had returned to -Amsterdam a few days since, because Sjaalman had heard of a situation -there. - -“At Gaafzuiger’s, I suppose?” - -Yes, that was the name. But it had come to nothing, after all, she said. -Well, I knew more about that than she did. He had dropped the bound -volume of _Aglaia_, and he was lazy, pedantic, and in bad health ... -just so; that was why they discharged him. - -She added that he meant to come and see me one of these days,—perhaps he -was even now on his way to my house,—to ask me for an answer to the -request he had made to me. - -I said that he could come when it suited him, but that he was not to -ring the bell, because that gives the servant so much trouble. If he -waited a little, I told her, some one would be sure to come out sooner -or later, and he could go in then. And then I departed, taking my sweets -with me, for, to tell the truth, I didn’t like the look of things at -all. I did not feel at my ease there. Why, a coffee-broker is not a -crossing-sweeper, or a street-porter, I should think; and I am sure I -look respectable enough. I had on my fur-lined overcoat, and yet she sat -there as calmly, and talked as unconcernedly to her children, as if she -had been alone. Besides, she seemed to have been crying, and if there is -anything I cannot put up with, it is discontented people. Besides, it -was chilly and unsociable in the place,—I suppose, because the furniture -had been taken,—and I like a room to look cosy and comfortable. As I was -going home, I thought I would try and keep on my old clerk Bastiaans a -little longer,—because, after all, I don’t like turning a man into the -street. - - MULTATULI. - (_From “Max Havelaar.”_) - - - - - _APHORISMS._ - - -I think so much of Heine that I am glad I never met him. - -Two people are never at the same moment equally angry with one another. - -The assertion that we prefer other work than that given us to do, -frequently implies a dislike to any work whatever. - - * * * * * - -Two left-hand gloves do not make a pair. Two half truths do not -necessarily constitute a truth. - - * * * * * - -A horseman once fell from his horse, and since then every one who is -thrown calls himself a good rider. - - * * * * * - -Every one has thoughts. Only with a few persons does the _thought_ -become an _idea_. Still fewer are those who know how to reproduce the -form and colour of their ideas. And to those who do, people continually -say, “Just what I was thinking!” Just so—except for the outline—except -for the colour—except for the light and shade. That is—except for a -great deal. - - * * * * * - -He who has gone farthest astray is best able to find the right road. I -do not say that much straying is necessary to know the way. Nor yet that -every one who has gone astray knows it. - - * * * * * - -When a swift runner breaks his leg, the crawlers have a _bal paré_. - -[Illustration: - - “TWO PEOPLE ARE NEVER AT THE SAME MOMENT EQUALLY ANGRY WITH ONE - ANOTHER.” -] - - * * * * * - -Take one piece of advice. Don’t be advised by any one. - - * * * * * - -Between soul and speech lies the length of a trumpet. I think—I almost -believe—that few trumpets are as short as the Dutch. - - * * * * * - -In the hospital at Amsterdam a sailor was to have his leg amputated. The -professor—I mean Tilanus—took it off for him. The man calmly smoked his -pipe, clenched his teeth now and then, but kept the upper hand of the -pain. - -Professor T. admired his spirit, and spoke in praise of it while he was -putting on the bandages. - -Suddenly the courageous patient gave a yell. The Professor had pricked -him with a pin. - -“How! _you_ calling out like this? You, who just now——” - -“That’s true; but look here, Professor, _the pin was not in the -bargain_!” - -The sailor was right. - - * * * * * - -Professor Z. was a friend of Apothecary Y.’s. He invited him to tea one -day by means of a note, which got lost. - -The note was picked up by a man who knew the signature, and deciphered -the rest. He read it as a prescription for convulsions in cattle. - -Moral: Not a day passes but the public surprises me with a reading of my -writings which is still wilder than the interpretation of Professor Z.’s -note. - - MULTATULI. - - - - - _OF SELF-DEPRECIATION._ - - -Now I am going to tell you how humility came into the world. - -_Pygmee_ was small of stature, and liked looking over other people’s -heads. In which he was seldom successful, because he was so very small. - -He went on a journey to look for people smaller than himself, but he -could not find them. And his longing to look down on them became more -and more intolerable. - -At last he came to Patagonia, where people are so tall that even the -children just born look down on their fathers. - -_Pygmee_ did not like this—in other people. But in his despair of -finding any smaller than himself, he bethought himself of a plan. He -invented a virtue, which proclaimed as its first principle, “_Whosoever -is taller than Pygmee must stoop till he comes within Pygmee’s line of -vision_,”—and the novelty made its way. All the Patagonians became -virtuous. When any one, by walking upright, sinned against the “first -principles” of Pygmee’s virtue, he was punished in a peculiar way. Every -one who was bowed down and virtuous jumped up and caught him round the -neck till his head reached the level of Patagonian good conduct. And the -man who was strong enough to carry all Patagonia on his shoulders, -without becoming virtuous, was set in the pillory, with a collar round -his neck, and a word inscribed thereon in the Patagonian tongue, which, -being literally translated, signifies— - - “THIS MAN MADE HIMSELF OBNOXIOUS TO PYGMEE.” - -People have tacitly agreed, however, to express it in our language -by—“_Pride_.” - - MULTATULI. - - - - - _OF EDUCATION, WITH PRACTICAL ILLUSTRATIONS._ - - -... I am positively forced to tell you that I think Dominie Pennewip’s -lot might have been counted an extenuating circumstance had he been -convicted of eight deadly sins at once. - -I have noticed that a considerable number of great men began their -careers as swineherds (see all biographical dictionaries); and it seems, -therefore, as if this employment called out the elements of all the -qualities needed to govern men—or to enlighten them. Which is not quite -the same thing.... - -... As for comparing human beings and pigs, let the reader remember the -connection between coal and diamonds, and every one will be -satisfied—even the theologians! - -But, since making this observation on the splendid prospects which await -any one who has spent his tender youth in the society of the grunting -coal-diamonds of the animal kingdom, I have several times thought it -strange that, in the biographies of great men, there should be so few -examples of ex-schoolmasters. For, after all, all the elements which -seem to constitute a pig-pasture the nursery of genius are abundantly -present in the schoolroom. - -The reverse process frequently occurs. Every day we see exiled princes -giving instruction to idle youth. Dionysius and Louis Philippe are not -the only ones; and I myself have attempted to teach French to an -American. Which proved impossible. - -If elective monarchies should come into fashion again, I should like to -see the people’s choice confine itself, by preference, to persons who -had studied mankind from models in miniature, just as one learns -geography from portable globes and atlases. All virtues, inclinations, -passions, errors, misdeeds,—all points which have to be studied in human -society,—are found in a small and comprehensive scale on the benches of -the school; and the boasted diplomacy of many a statesman only amounts, -when looked at carefully, to the tricks of which our Machiavels of three -feet high make the warp and woof of their tactics. - -The schoolmaster’s profession is not an easy one; and I have never -understood why it is so poorly paid, or, since it seems that this is an -inexorable law of nature, how it is that people are always found to fill -it, instead of drawing the same pay as drill-instructors, and showing -soldiers how to load their guns, which is less perplexing to the mind, -and gives you more fresh air, with oxygen in it. - -Or else, I should prefer to be a minister. For the latter has to do with -people who are quite at one with him as to the matter in hand, and come -and listen to him of their own free choice; while the teacher has to -keep up a constant fight with reluctance on the part of the pupils, and -also with a highly dangerous set of rivals, in the shape of tops, -marbles, and paper dolls—not to mention sweets, changing teeth, scarlet -fever, and weak mothers. - -Pennewip was a man of the old school,—at least so he would appear to us -if we saw him now-a-days, in his grey coat, long waistcoat, and -knee-breeches with buckles, the whole figure crowned with a brown wig, -which he was constantly pushing hither and thither, and which was always -curled just so at the beginning of the week—if there was no rain in the -air. For curls cannot stand damp; and it was on Sundays that the man -came with the curling-tongs. - -Yet the _old-fashionedness_ is, perhaps, only relative. Who knows -whether it was not counted new-fangled in its day; or how soon the same -thing may be said of us. However that may be, the man was addressed as -“_meester_,” and his school was called a _school_, and not an -_institution_. In his school, where, according to the simple fashion of -the time, boys and girls sat side by side, you learned—or you could -learn, if so minded—reading, arithmetic, writing, the history of your -own country, psalm-singing, wool-work, knitting, marking, and religion. -All this was in the ordinary curriculum; but any pupil who particularly -distinguished him or herself by talent, application, or obedience, -received, over and above, lessons in verse-making,—an art wherein the -soul of Dominie Pennewip greatly delighted. He “finished” the boys to -the point of complete fitness for “acceptance”;[11] and, with the help -of his wife, brought the girls the length of a sampler, with a red text -on a black ground, or a spitted heart between two flowerpots. Then their -education was complete, and they were quite fit, if so minded, to become -the grandmothers of our present generation of citizens. - - * * * * * - -The school was empty, and the forms looked as though the pupils had left -all their weariness behind them there. The map of Europe looked -ill-temperedly down on the pile of copy-books, next to which lay the -quill pens, worn down to the gums, so to speak, in the pot-hooks and -hangers which have opened the gate of access to all learning so long -that the memory of man goeth not to the contrary. The difficult sum in -fractions was still visible, in all its glory, on the blackboard; but -yet, the school was no school; its spirit had fled—it was a corpse. - -Yes, the informing mind had departed with the children. For that these -carried about with them a large quantity of the above article shall -speedily be made evident. - -It was the great day on which Dominie Pennewip was to judge of the -fruits of his pupils’ poetic genius. There he sat. His much-moved wig -shared in the emotions which filled him on reading the poems; and we -will be indiscreet enough to look over his shoulder, so as, in our turn, -to be touched by impressions of never-sufficiently-to-be-appreciated -artistic enjoyment. - -Wig to the right, and at rest. - - TRYNTJE FOP, ON HER CAP. - - “My name is Tryntje Fop, - I have a cap on my head atop.” - -“Not bad; but—let us see—yes, that is better. The superfluous words, ‘on -my head,’ weaken the impression of the whole.” - -He scored through the superfluous words, and now Tryntje Fop has simply -a cap on, without a head. - -“This is the sort of terse and concise style I like.” - -Wig somewhat to the left. - - LUCAS DE BRYER, ON OUR COUNTRY. - - “Fatherland, cake, and almonds also, - In the moonlight I a-walking go; - Cake, Fatherland, and brandy-wine, - I go a-walking in the moonshine. - Five fingers have I upon my hand, - In honour of our dear Fatherland.” - -“Melodious,” said the master; “it runs quite melodiously. And there is -depth in the cake and the brandy, with the Fatherland in between them.” - -Wig to the right. - - LYSJE WEBBELAAR, ON HER FATHER’S TRADE. - - “The cat fell downstairs to-day; - My father, he sells pota- - Toes and onions.” - -“Original; but I do not like her dividing the word potatoes.” - -Wig to the left. - - JANNETJE RAST, ON A WEATHERCOCK. - - “He stands on a chimney, all soot below, - And shows the wind the way it must blow.” - -“This is not quite accurate; for, strictly speaking——, but, as a -poetical license, it may pass.” - -Wig to the front. - - GRIETJE WANZER, ON A CATERPILLAR. - - “The little caterpillar, without fear, - Jumps round upon the trees, both far and near.” - -“Descriptive poetry. There is a certain boldness in the idea of the -caterpillar fearlessly jumping about.” - -Wig at rest. - - LEENDERT SNELLEMAN, ON SPRING. - - “In the spring all is bright and gay; - My brother’s birthday is in May; - But now he has chilblains on his feet. - So we’ll praise the spring, as it is meet. - Then we’ll go for walks together, - And look for eggs at Easter.” - -“It is a pity that the rhyme is so very careless. His ideas are really -uncommon, and well developed. The transition to the egg is quite -characteristic.” - -Wig pushed down to the back of his neck. - - KEESJE, THE BUTCHER’S SON—EULOGY OF THE DOMINIE. - - “My father has killed many an ox with his knife, - But Master Pennewip is still in life. - Sometimes they were lean, and sometimes fat, - And he wears a wig underneath his hat.” - -The wig was pushed to one side—very far to one side. - -“H’m—strange—what shall I say about it?” - -The wig went back again to the extreme right. - -“What have I got to do with the oxen?” - -The wig protested, with some impressive movements, against all such -bovine relationships. - -[Illustration: - - “WIG PUSHED DOWN TO THE BACK OF HIS NECK.” -] - -“H’m—could that be what these new-fangled writers call _humour?_” - -The wig was drawn forward to Dominie Pennewip’s eyebrows, which denotes -doubt.[12] - -“I must take that boy in hand one of these days.” - -The wig came to anchor on the zenith, by way of expressing its -satisfaction at the Dominie’s intention of taking Butcher’s Keesje -seriously in hand. - - LUCAS DE WILDE, ON RELIGION. - - “Religion’s a good thing indeed, - Of which all people have great need.” - -“The fundamental idea is correct and beautiful,” said Pennewip, “but it -ought to have been further developed.” - -The wig nodded assent. - - TRUITJE GIER, ON MRS PENNEWIP. - - “The path of virtue she does show,— - Who would not gladly with her go? - And at odd moments, as is fit, - She teaches us to darn and knit.” - -The wig gave a leap of joy, and its curls embraced one another. The -master could not refrain from calling his wife to share in the enjoyment -of Truitje Gier’s effusion, which was pasted on a piece of cardboard, -and hung up above the mantelpiece in honour both of the poetess and her -subject.... - - LOUWTJE DE WILDE, ON FRIENDSHIP. - - “Friendship is a good thing indeed, - Of which all people have great need.” - -The wig did not appear quite satisfied. Lucas de Wilde’s “Religion” was -brought to light, and placed for comparison beside Louwtje’s -“Friendship.” - -“H’m ... well ... it might be possible. Instances do occur of the same -idea springing up simultaneously in two different minds.... It might ... -or could ... be so....” - - WIMPJE DE WILDE, ON ANGLING. - - “Angling is ...” - -“How! What is that?” - -Yes, indeed! there it was— - - “Angling is a good thing indeed, - Of which all people have great need.” - -The wig was in perpetual motion; it seemed as though it too were taking -part in the angling operations. - -Master Pennewip hastily turned over the papers he had not yet examined, -sorted out the productions of the whole Wilde family, and ... yes, -indeed! Mietje de Wilde, Kees de Wilde, Piet and Jan de Wilde, declared, -with touching unanimity, that religion, friendship, fishing, dreaming, -cauliflower, and conjuring are good things indeed, of which all people -have great need. It was an overwhelming flood of good things and human -need! - -What was an honest wig to do? It did the best thing that could be done -under the circumstances, and more cannot be required of any one. After -perceiving the fruitlessness of its efforts to find out any difference -between fishing and friendship, conjuring and dreaming, cauliflower and -religion, it behaved as though the matter did not concern it in the -least, and assumed a neutral position, with an air, on the part of its -little curls, of looking forward with interest to the sequel—as the -reader is no doubt doing. - -[Illustration: - - “ANGLING IS A GOOD THING INDEED.” -] - - LEENTJE DE HAAS, ON ADMIRAL DE RUYTER. - - “He climbed to the top of a tower, - And twisted ropes on the same; - Then he went to sea in a vessel, - And was crowned with eternal fame. - - “He did great deeds and glorious, - And overthrew Sallee; - The States named him victorious, - Our hero of the sea. - - “Then to marauding England - He went in wrath so dire, - The same he, most intrepid, - Besieged and set on fire. - - “How many Christian captives - He freed from slavery’s chains! - Then Netherland’s valiant warriors - Broke all his window-panes. - - “For terror of all traitors - What time he sailed the sea, - His title it was ‘Daddy’— - His wife was ‘Granny,’ she! - - “He gave the Lord the glory, - A Christian life he led,— - Then got he through his garments - A bullet, and was dead!” - -The wig clapped its curls applaudingly. It seemed delighted. Alas! the -joy of such a wig does not last long. This, too, was soon to——But we -will not anticipate.... We shall know only too soon. - - “WOUTER PIETERSE—THE SONG OF THE BRIGAND.” - -“Hey! What’s this? And Virtue—where is Virtue?” - -[Illustration: - - “ADMIRAL DE RUYTER.” -] - -Dominie Pennewip could not trust his own eyes. He turned the sheet over -and looked at the back, to see if the Virtue he had given Wouter as a -subject was hidden there. - -Alas, alas! there was no trace of virtue in Wouter’s composition. - -Poor wig! - -Yes—poor wig! For after having made it to undergo what no wig ever -underwent before,—after having tugged, plucked, ill-used, and tormented -it to an extent which would have taken more than the imagination of the -whole De Wilde family to conceive,—Dominie Pennewip tore it from his -head, doubled it up between his convulsively clenched hands,—stammered, -“Heaven and earth! Gracious goodness! where in nature did he pick that -up?”—banged it down on his head again, clapped his venerable -three-cornered hat atop of it, and flew out of the front door like a man -possessed. He went straight to the Pieterses’ house. - -Juffrouw Pieterse, Wouter’s mother, had been entertaining a few of her -friends and neighbours at a “little evening,” with tea and cake. - -“Good evening, Juffrouw Pieterse; I am your obedient servant. I see you -have company,—but——” - -“Don’t mention it, sir! Just come in and sit down!... Will you take a -cup with us—sage-milk?” - -“Juffrouw Pieterse,” replied the master, solemnly, “I did not come here -to drink sage-milk!” - -“But please sit down, Dominie——” - -It was not easy, under the circumstances, but the ladies shifted their -chairs a little, and the Dominie was finally installed in his. He was -coughing with overwhelming seriousness. He looked round on the company, -drew out a roll of papers, pulled his wig to one side, and spoke: - -“Juffrouw Pieterse! you are an honest, respectable woman,—and your late -husband—sold shoes——” - -Juffrouw Pieterse cast on Juffrouw Laps a glance of vindictive triumph. - -“Yes, sir, he did!” - -“Don’t interrupt me, Juffrouw Pieterse. Your deceased consort sold -shoes. I have had your children at my school, from the time when they -were _so_ high, to their confirmation. Is not that true, Juffrouw -Pieterse?” - -“Yes, sir,” she replied, somewhat uneasily, for she began to be -frightened at the impressive solemnity of Pennewip’s tone. “Yes, that’s -true, Dominie!” - -“And I ask you, Juffrouw Pieterse, whether you, so long as you, through -the means of your children, have had anything to do with my school, have -had any complaints—I mean, well-founded complaints, Juffrouw Pieterse—to -make of the way in which I—with the help of my wife—have given your -numerous offspring instruction in reading, writing, arithmetic, Dutch -history, psalm-singing, sewing, knitting, marking, and religion? That is -what I ask you, Juffrouw Pieterse.” - -A ghastly silence. The neighbour in the back-room downstairs, who had -repeatedly complained of the noise during the evening, had every reason -to be satisfied. - -“That is what I ask you, Juffrouw Pieterse,” repeated the Dominie, -putting on the _pince-nez_, which was considered antiquated in those -days—destined, as it was, to become the height of fashion some decades -later. - -“But, Dominie——” - -“No buts, Juffrouw Pieterse. I ask of you—or I ask you,—for it is quite -allowable, Juffrouw Pieterse, in this case, to omit the preposition,—I -ask you if you have any complaints to make—I mean, of course, -well-founded complaints—of the instruction given by me in reading, -writing——” - -“Goodness, no, Dominie!—I have no complaints; but——” - -“Is that so? No complaints? Well, then, I declare to you—— Where is your -son Wouter?” - -“Wouter? Why—oh! he went out, so he did! Hasn’t he come in yet, Trui? -Wouter is out for a walk, Dominie, with the little Hallemans—very -nicely-behaved children, Dominie,—and they live——” - -“Eh! what?—with the Hallemans, is he?—the Hallemans who go to the French -school? oh! indeed—yes! So it’s from the Hallemans he learns such -things—it must be——... loose morals ... utter depravity ... the French -school...! Well, in short, Juffrouw Pieterse,—I say that your son——” - -“Eh?” - -“I tell you that your son Wouter——” - -“Well—what has Wouter been doing now?” asked Juffrouw Laps, rejoiced, -pious person that she was, at the new misdeed she was to hear of. - -Just as Pennewip was about to open the indictment, there was another -ring at the bell,—and the unfortunate delinquent entered the room. - -“Juffrouw Pieterse,” Pennewip began, “my school is known as a good -school even so far off as Kattenburg[13]—do you hear that, and -understand it?” - -“Oh yes, Dominie!” - -“I repeat it,—well known; and more especially so on account of the good -moral tone which prevails there,—I mean, of course, in my school. -Religion and virtue are put foremost. I could show you verses on such -subjects that—but I will pass over that for the present. Let it suffice -you to know that my school is known as far as ... what do I say?—I have -even taught the son of a resident in Wittenburg,[13]—a block-maker he -was—and once, indeed, I was consulted in writing as to what was to be -done with a boy whose father lived no nearer than Muiderberg!” - -“Very good, Dominie!” - -“Yes, Juffrouw Pieterse! I am still in possession of the letter—which I -could show you if I chose; the man was a sexton, and the youth had -fallen into a sad habit of drawing unseemly figures on the -tombstones—but just on that account—I mean for the sake of the religion -and virtue for which I am so well known—I feel it my duty to take this -opportunity of informing you that I do not choose to see the good name -of my school ruined by means of that good-for-nothing rascal of a son of -yours, who stands there!” - -Poor Wouter was aghast. That sounded very unlike the appointment he had -been dreaming of—brigand-in-chief to the Pope of Rome,—which, however, -he no longer desired, having thought of a different position which would -suit him better. - -His mother was about to proceed to what she called “_her_ religion,” and -administer chastisement on the spot, in order to satisfy the Dominie, -and show him that, in her house, too, religion and sound morals had the -first place. But the schoolmaster thought it better to inform the -company what was toward, and thereby bring the culprit to a deeper sense -of his delinquencies. - -“Your son, Juffrouw Pieterse, belongs to the class of robbers, -murderers, and fire-raisers!” ... - -No more than that! - -“Gracious goodness! Merciful justice! What next! Oh! my gracious -patience! How is it possible? What human beings have to endure!” -Something like this—for I will not answer for textual accuracy—was the -flood of exclamations which overwhelmed the ten-year-old robber, -murderer, and fire-raiser. Poor Wouter! - -“I will read you a piece in his own handwriting,” said the Dominie, “and -any one who, after this, can still doubt the utter depravity of this -boy——” - -The whole company promised with one voice not to doubt it. The poem, -indeed, which Master Pennewip thereupon proceeded to read, was of a kind -which rendered doubt on that head very difficult; and I myself, though I -have chosen Wouter as my hero, shall not find it easy to convince the -reader that he was not so bad as would appear from his atrocious— - - SONG OF THE BRIGAND. - - “With my sword— - On my steed— - And my helmet on head, - Ride at them! The foeman’s skull cloven in twain,— - And forward!—” - -“Christian souls!” cried the whole company, “is he mad?” - - “And forward!— - And never draw rein - Along the high-road, - The brigand’s abode,— - With a thrust and a blow; - Drive back the Dragoons—the Viscount’s laid low!” ... - -“Dear heavens above us!” moaned Wouter’s mother, “what in the world has -this Viscount done to him?” - - “For the spoil”— - -“Look at that now,—for the spoil!” said Juffrouw Laps, “_I_ always -say,—they begin with a Bible, and then——” - - “And the spoil - Is my bride.” - -“Did ever any one hear the like?—his bride! Why, the boy’s only just -cutting his second set of teeth!” - - “And the spoil - Is my bride, - Bought for mine own with the sword at my side——” - -“With the sword at his side!!” - - “And the spoil is my bride, - Bought for mine own with the sword at my side. - Like a feather I bear her right into the hall, - To the grotto——” - -“Gracious patience! what does he want in a grotto?” - - “As swift as the wind - I ride on with my prey,— - And I heed not her weeping—her groans are my joy, - What delight!——” - -“Mercy on us! does he call that delight? It makes me go cold all over!” - - “Then again - Up and down, - East and west through the land!” - -“There he goes again!” - - “Then again - Up and down, - East and west through the land, - Here a villa to raze—there a convent ablaze— - With rifling of treasure: - My pleasure!——” - -“The devil must be in the boy ... his pleasure!” - - “And then we are gone!— - Ride on! ever on, - New adventures to seek— - My path it is marked by the steel and the fire— - On, on, ever on, let me hasten—nor tire, - My vengeance to wreak!” - -“Gracious goodness! what can they have done to him?” - - “For revenge is the task - He would ask— - The king of the wood——” - -“Is the boy mad? I’ll king him!” - - “For revenge is the task - He would ask— - The king of the wood— - Who alone, against all, his sceptre holds good——” - -“What sort of a thing is that?” - - “Who alone, against all, his sceptre holds good, - And his banner of might!— - Up! Hurrah! - Who will come to the fight?” - -The company shuddered audibly at this invitation. - - “Up! Hurrah! - Who will come to the fight? - We will spare no creature that ever was born— - Now we’ll hang all the men——” - -“_Lodderyn!_[14] Trui! you see I——” - - “We’ll hang all the men, and the women——” - -“Lodderyn! lodderyn! lodderyn! Trui!” - - “And the women shall mourn, - For our joy and delight!” - -“Our joy and delight!” repeated Pennewip in a sepulchral voice,—“our joy -and delight!... He ... does ... these ... things ... for ... his ... -delight!”. - -The whole company was near swooning. Stoffel’s pipe had gone out. But -Wouter had a sort of passive strength in his nature; and when his mother -had thrashed him enough to secure her own return to consciousness, he -lay down, not altogether discontented, in his corner of the back room, -and soon fell asleep, to dream of Fancy. - - MULTATULI. - (_Ideen._) - - - - - _GOING INTO BUSINESS._ - - -The plan of “going into business” was quite attractive to Wouter. -Perhaps because he did not quite know what it meant. He asked his -brother Stoffel about it. - -“Well—don’t you understand _that_? ‘In business’ means the same thing -as—as being a merchant.” - -“But what shall I have to sell? And how shall I know what people want?” - -“Oh, you must not imagine that you will have to go about with a -peddler’s pack, and ring at people’s front doors to know if they want to -buy anything. You’re a stupid; you never will understand anything. ‘In -business,’ you see, means—it means——” - -Stoffel began to stammer. He was not the first to stumble over a -definition—and will not be the last. But there are few who, in such a -case, have an ally at home to help them out. - -“How can you always talk such nonsense, Wouter?” cried his mother. -“There’s Stoffel, now, explaining everything to you so clearly, and -there you are again making out you don’t understand. Who in the world -ever told you that you would have to go about the street with a pack on -your back, like an oilman or a _mersan de la perreplu_?[15] Is that what -I have brought you up for, and made you take the highest place in the -school? You are an ungrateful child. What is the good of your knowing so -much, and being able to make such fine letters, with curls and -flourishes to them, if you must insult your own mother?” - -Readers who care anything for justice, will find it strange, and perhaps -unfair, that Wouter should have been overwhelmed with this flood of -reproach. Unfair? Certainly! But—strange? Why, no! I solemnly affirm my -accuracy in depicting a certain manner of carrying on a controversy, of -which Juffrouw Pieterse was unquestionably mistress. - -But now, supposing Wouter had, in all humility, remarked that he had -given no occasion for the above sermon? Well, in that case he would have -been overwhelmed with a second lecture on the far-reaching and infamous -wickedness of being in the right, which, indeed, under certain -circumstances, _is_ a fault—and a bad one. - - MULTATULI. - (_Ideen._) - - - - - _TWO PARABLES._ - - -A Professor of Ichthyology was delivering his lecture. The students were -listening—well, pretty attentively as students go—not to mention -students of _Ichthyology_. - -“The carp, gentlemen, the carp——” - -Then followed some facts about the carp. - -“Now the carp, gentlemen, as I was saying——” - -At that moment a carp came swimming into the lectureroom. How the beast -did it, considering how dry it was there, does not concern us. The poor -students had suffered from drought for ever so long,—and, after all, a -carp is no better than a student. - -“There he is himself!” they cried, with one voice. - -So they left the professor in the lurch with his lecture on the carp, -and went to look at the carp for themselves. Now I think this quite -right and natural on the part of the students. But I wish we could do -the same, and try to look at men—and women too—for ourselves, instead of -listening to somebody’s dicta about Man! - - MULTATULI. - (_Ideen._) - -[Illustration: - - “AM I NOT JUST LIKE PLATO?” -] - - - - - _THERSITES AND PLATO._ - - -Plato once had a bad cold—so bad that it was evident to every one. -Thersites imitated his way of coughing, and said: - -“Am I not just like Plato?” - -However, this was not the worst—any man is free to ask a question. The -worst of it was that thousands upon thousands of people immediately -replied, “Just so. Hurrah for Thersites, the new philosopher!” - -The man founded a school on the spot. And, therefore: _Cave_, _caveto_, -_caveto_, _cavete_, _cavetote_, _caveunto_! - - MULTATULI. - (_Ideen._) - - - - - _EGOTISM._ - - -“You talk a great deal about yourself,” say many who never get talked -about, either by themselves or other people. “This is against the tone -of good society.” - -“I advise you to seek better society than mine.” - -“You talk a great deal about yourself——” - -“Yes. Would you prefer me to speak of you, ... or your cat, ... or your -dog, ... or your ass?” - -Do you wish that? Well, content yourself, I have often done so, but you -did not know it at the time, because you are always confusing yourself -with your neighbour’s donkey. Your neighbour has also been complaining; -he says that I have been all the time talking about _your_ donkeys. -Compensation! The donkeys themselves have never complained, the good, -dumb beasts. - -“You talk a great deal about yourself——” - -“Yes. I want to be honest.” - -“You talk a great deal about yourself——” - -“Yes. I am my own latest love. I had loved long, and often, and -ardently, before _that_ love was born. But now that it does exist, ... -and is the last....” - -“You talk a great deal about yourself——” - -“Yes. If it wearies you, what hinders your exchanging me for the -_Aglaia_? What hinders your becoming a subscriber to ‘The Life, -Fortunes, and Business of the Kappelman Family’—in one vol., cloth -gilt?” - -“You talk a great deal about yourself——” - -“Quite so. When you do what Havelaar did, and the rich young man in -Matthew xix. did _not_ do, I will talk about you.” - - MULTATULI. - (_Ideen._) - - - - - _THE STORY OF CHRESOS._ - - -Chresos lived in Bœotia. By profession he was mayor of a little village, -whose name I do not know, neither can I tell you how he had strayed into -Bœotia, since his family belonged to Athens—nay, I think he was even -related to Alcibiades, who was a Frenchman born too soon. Chresos was a -good sort of man, and lived contentedly. He looked after his village as -well as he could, and amused himself, in his spare hours, by playing on -the lute; but he only did this at home, and never annoyed any one with -his music. - -And, behold, there came robbers, who ill-treated the inhabitants of the -village over which Chresos had authority. He laid aside his lute, and -tried to drive the robbers away; but he was told that he ought not to -have done this, because the robbers were under the protection of the -magistrates in the capital. - -Chresos did not believe this, because it seemed to him too bad to be -credible. He continued to resist the robbers, and, their force being too -great for him, he sent a messenger to Thebes, to ask for help. - -Instead of help, he received for answer, that he was an unworthy mayor, -and entirely incompetent to fill any office in Bœotia. He did not -attempt to deny this. After having advised his villagers to have -patience, he left the place with his wife and children, taking nothing -with him but his lute. His house was occupied by a new mayor, who, it -may be supposed, was less unworthy, in the opinion of the Theban -magistrates, and who, also, seemed to be on very good terms with the -very robbers whom the stupid Chresos had wanted to exterminate. At any -rate, there were no more complaints of violence, although the robbers -still remained in the neighbourhood. - -With difficulty, Chresos obtained access to the Areopagus, and related -what had happened to him. He pointed to his family, who were perishing -of want—through a misunderstanding on the part of the magistrates; for -he still thought that the whole matter arose out of a misunderstanding. -I have already told you that he was not really a Bœotian by birth. This -was why he held such mistaken opinions. - -But the Areopagus took no notice. Chresos asked his wife to have -patience, which was not necessary, and consoled himself by playing the -lute. He was no great musician, but there is something peculiar in the -playing of a father who sees his family starving; this was why they -listened to him, not because Chresos played well. There was something -that tickled coarse ears. There were many coarse ears in Bœotia. - -When they said, “Well played, Chresos; go on,” his hand fell limply -down, and the tears stood in his eyes at the thought that this undesired -praise was the price of his children’s hunger. - -Yet he played from time to time, because he could do no other. And his -family bore their hunger patiently. - -Again and again he appealed to the Areopagus. At last he received the -following answer:— - -“The Court of Areopagus, &c., having heard the complaints of the -ex-mayor Chresos as to the outrages in the village of——, &c. - -[Illustration: - - “HE PLAYED FROM TIME TO TIME.” -] - -“Having likewise heard his request for a decision between him and the -Theban magistrates, &c. - -“And whereas the said Chresos declares that he and his family are in a -position of great distress, in consequence of a misunderstanding which -induced the said magistrates to take the side of the robbers who -plundered the village, - -“And whereas, moreover, many witnesses declare that they have heard the -said Chresos playing on the lute, - -“In pursuance of, &c., &c., - -“The sentence of the Court is, that the said Chresos continue playing on -the lute, and pay all costs.” - -The Areopagus had been bribed,—and its name was HOLLAND. - - MULTATULI. - (_Minnebrieven._) - - - - - _THE FAIRY TALE THAT FANCY TOLD WOUTER._ - FANCY’S FAIRY TALE. - - -Wouter had found out that he was a prince. His princedom lay in the -region of the moon ... no, much farther off than that. - -This is how he came to it:— - -Long before the beginning of this story,—yes, very, very long ago, there -was a Queen of Spirits, just as in _Hans Heiling_. Her name was A—OO. - -She did not live in a cave, as did the one in _Hans_, but held her court -far above the clouds, which is more airy, and also more fitting for a -queen. - -She wore a necklace of stars, and a sun was set in her signet-ring. - -When she went out, the nebulæ flew up like dust, and she scattered the -firmaments with a stroke of her fan. - -[Illustration: - - “HER NAME WAS A—OO.” -] - -Her children played with planets for marbles, and complained that they -were so hard to find when they rolled away among the furniture. This -made Prince Upsilon—the queen’s little son—very cross, and he kept -asking for some other kind of toys. - -The queen had a box full of Sirii given him, but in a little while these -too were lost. But that was Upsilon’s own fault. He ought to have taken -better care of his playthings. People did what they could to content -him. But whatever was given him, he kept calling for something -else—something more and bigger. This was a fault in the little prince’s -character. - -His mother, who, as Queen of Spirits, was a very sensible woman, -understood that it would be a good thing for the youngster to get -accustomed to _doing without_ for a little. So she said that Upsilon was -to be left without any playthings at all. - -This was done. They took away everything from him,—even the comet with -which he and his little sister Omicron were playing at battledore and -shuttlecock. - -Prince Upsilon was of a passionate temper, and so far forgot himself as -to say something very disrespectful about his mother. - -Princess Omicron, too, led astray by his example (for nothing is more -ruinous than bad examples), angrily threw her battledore at the -Universe. Which was not nice in a little girl. - -Now in the kingdom of Spirits there was a law that whoever lost sight of -the respect due to the Queen, or threw anything at the Universe, should -be punished for the same by a temporary loss of all rank and dignity. - -Prince Upsilon became a grain of sand. - -After having behaved well for a couple of thousand years, he received -the joyful tidings that he was promoted to the rank of a tuft of moss. - -In this capacity he kept his duty in mind, and did everything that a -good moss tuft ought to do. And on a certain morning he awoke as a -polype. - -This happened about the time when human beings first began to prepare -their food by means of fire. - -He built one or two continents, and in about two thousand years’ time he -was rewarded for his zeal by being changed into a shrimp. - -In this position, also, no one had the slightest reason to complain of -his conduct, and in due course he was transferred to the class of -sea-serpents. - -He amused himself, innocently enough, by playing at hide-and-seek with -the sailors, but did no one any harm; and some time afterwards he -received four feet and the rank of mastodon, with the privilege of -disporting himself on shore. - -With philosophic calm he adapted himself to his new circumstances, and -occupied himself with geological observations. A few million ages -later.... - -When I speak of ages, it must be borne in mind that all this time taken -together was only a short quarter of an hour in the land of Spirits, ... -or rather that it was absolutely nothing. For _time_ was invented for -the convenience of mankind, as we give spelling-books to children. For -Spirits, _then_, _now_, and _in the future_ is exactly the same thing. -They comprehend _yesterday_, _to-day_, and _to-morrow_ in one -glance,—just as we read a word without spelling. What _was_ and _shall -be_, _is_. - -The Egyptians and Phœnicians knew this very well, but we seem to have -forgotten it. - -A few million years later, then, he rose to the rank of an elephant; -and, a spirit-minute or so after that,—that is ten years, I mean human -years this time—before the beginning of my story, he was transferred to -the class of human beings. - -What he had done amiss, as an elephant, I do not know. - -But, FANCY had said, if he did not want to be put back another step, -instead of being shortly restored to his rank as a prince of Spirits, he -must look to his ways as a human being; not make any more verses about -brigands, or sell any more Bibles; and then, why, perhaps it might come -to pass. - -Alas, he would have to put up with Juffrouw Pieterse’s not wearing a -train. “That,” said Fancy, “is so, and can’t be helped.” - -Fancy appeared to be a sort of maid-of-honour of Wouter’s mother, who -came to visit him in his banishment, so as to cheer him up a bit, and -tell him to take courage, for the temporary punishment that had fallen -to his lot did not mean that people had ceased to love him. - -She promised to come and see him from time to time. - -“But,” Wouter had asked, “how is my little sister?” - -“Your sister has been punished too—you know the law. But she is a dear -child. She is submitting to it patiently, and promises to do better in -the future. In the beginning she was a bubble of air, and conducted -herself irreproachably as such. Then she became a moonbeam, and in this -capacity also no one had any fault to find with her. She shone so that -it was a pleasure to see her, and your mother had need of all her -strength of mind to keep from granting her a respite. So she was soon -promoted to be a perfume, and filled the Universe to such a degree that -she gave us a headache. This happened about the time when you were -beginning to eat grass. Then she became a butterfly. But your mother -found that this was not a suitable position for a girl, and therefore -soon changed her into a constellation—see, there she is—below us.” - -Wouter looked for Omicron, but could not find her. - -It often happens that we miss something because it is too big. - -“See,” said Fancy, “there—to the right—no—rather farther -off—there—there—the Pole Star. That’s her left eye. You can’t see the -right, because she is stooping after Orion, her doll. She is holding him -on her lap and playing with him.” - -Wouter now saw her clearly, and cried “Omicron! Omicron!” - -“No, no,” said the maid-of-honour, “that won’t do, prince. The queen -expressly directed that your confinement was to be on the cellular -system. It is only as a great favour that you two are shut up within the -same universe. When your brothers spoilt the Milky Way some time ago by -letting floods loose over it, they were put very much farther apart.” - -Wouter was greatly grieved at this. He would so have liked to kiss all -those stars, with the doll in their lap, which were his little sister. - -“Oh! Fancy,” he cried, “do let me be with Omicron!” - -Fancy said neither yes nor no. There was something in her manner as if -she were thinking over the possibility of bringing a very difficult -matter to pass. - -But Wouter, taking courage from her hesitation, repeated his prayer: - -“Oh! let me be with my little sister. I don’t mind if I have to eat -grass again, or build continents. I will do my very best at it, if I may -only be with Omicron!” - -It seems as though Fancy were afraid to promise what might be out of her -power, and, at the same time, that it pained her not to be able to give -the promise. - -“I will ask,” she whispered; “and now....” - -Wouter rubbed his eyes ... he was standing on the little bridge over the -canal. - - MULTATULI. - (_Ideen._) - - - - - _HALF-AN-HOUR AT THE HAIR-DRESSER’S._ - - FARCE. - - - I. - - FOURNICHON, _the hair-dresser, discovered in his shop, busy finishing a - lady’s chignon_. - -_Fournichon._ There ought to be a machine invented to make our work -easier, ... say, some simple arrangement in which you throw in a handful -of hair on one side and take out a _perruque perfectionnée_ on the -other. I shall certainly bring up my son as a mechanician, and entrust -him with the invention of this indispensable machine. Let me see, whose -turn is it now? Ah! Mevrouw Priddeau,—_a chignon à la sauvage_, of at -least three kilos? ... _Mille tonnerres!_ I am quite out of black hair! -Hi! Pierre! - - [_He sends his assistants to purchase the necessary supplies; almost - immediately after his shop is hastily entered by two students, - Charles and John, who drop into chairs, as though completely - exhausted._] - -_Fournichon_ (_rising_). How can I serve you, gentlemen? - -_Charles_ (_gasping_). A glass of water, if you please. - -[_Fournichon supplies them both, and goes on._] How you startled me, -gentlemen! to rush in breathlessly like that! Yet it’s not the season -for mad dogs! - -_Charles._ If it had only been a mad dog! - -_Fournichon._ Surely no tiger has broken loose from the Zoological -Gardens? - -_John._ If it had only been a tiger! - -_Fournichon._ Come, come, I shall not make myself uneasy. You have been -up to some mischief, haven’t you? You were pursued by the police, and -you saw no other refuge but the hospitable establishment of _M. -Fournichon, Coiffeur des Deux Sexes_. Now, am I not right? - -[Illustration: - - FOURNICHON, THE HAIR-DRESSER. -] - -_Charles._ Yes, that’s it,—the contemptible wretch ... the -scoundrel! ... The same low cad who got me in for three weeks’ solitary -last year. Far worse than the maddest dog, or the most savage tiger! - -_John._ The fellow never will learn to understand that a couple of -rix-dollars are worth far more than his so-called official honour, which -involves him in the constant risk of incurring a thrashing. - -_Fournichon._ But what has happened, after all? Surely, gentlemen, you -did not come running here in such haste to tell me that you got into -quod last year? - -_Charles._ What has happened? Nothing, strictly speaking ... but a whole -lot _may_ happen. - -_John._ And that must be prevented,—and that is why we have come to seek -comfort, counsel, and help from the hospitable Fournichon. - -_Charles._ I’ll tell you all about it. We were just coming quietly and -comfortably from lecture together, when we passed a baker’s shop, when -the servant girl was just washing the windows. John took it into his -head that we might lend a hand, and I seized a pail of water, intending -to throw the contents at the window, when the pail itself slipped from -my hands, and flew right through the plate-glass window into the middle -of the currant-buns and cakes! Unhappily, the aforesaid incorruptible -policeman just happened to be in the neighbourhood, so that he caught us -red-handed, and we had to make good use of our legs to escape being -locked up at once. - -_John._ You will understand that we did not intend any mischief,—it was -a harmless joke, which turned out badly. - -_Fournichon._ Of course. And not only so, but there was provocation on -the baker’s part. If he had chosen another time of day to have his -windows cleaned, it could not possibly have turned out so. In any case, -there are plenty of extenuating circumstances, and I don’t understand -why you gentlemen should have such a violent objection to a day or two -under lock and key. That happens often enough, and young gentlemen don’t -usually think so much of it. - -_John._ That is true, but to-day is an extraordinary occasion. We were -going to the fancy-dress ball to-night, and should be very sorry to miss -it. So you see us in a fearful scrape, with a gendarme at our heels, and -you must help us. [_A ring at the bell._] What’s that? - -_Fournichon._ I don’t know; we shall see in a minute. [_Steps are heard -coming up the stairs._] - -_Charles._ John, get out of sight. [_They hide._] - -_Pierre_ (_entering_). Sir, Vrouw Krullemie has just sold her hair this -morning for seventy-five cents. - - [_The students come out again._] - -_John._ Bother your Krullemie! Say, Fournichon, if your visitors are in -the habit of dropping in unannounced after this fashion, we are not -altogether safe here. - -_Fournichon._ Well, look here, gentlemen, you suggested an idea -yourselves. Your costumes for the ball must be quite ready by this time; -why don’t you disguise yourselves in them? - -_Charles._ A fine lark! In the first place they are not here.... - -_John._ That would matter less, for we might send for them, but we could -scarcely show ourselves in the streets in them. - -_Fournichon._ How so? - -_John._ Well, I was going to appear as the Avenger of Innocence. - -_Charles._ And I as the Four Seasons. - -_Fournichon._ You are right, that would never do; but I have another -proposal to make. I too intend going to the ball, and have had costumes -made for myself and one of my friends, which will no doubt suit you -better. You can have those, and give us yours. - -_John._ All right, if they are better suited to the purpose than ours. - -_Fournichon._ Oh! just perfect! You shall see. [_Opens two chests in the -foreground, and takes out costumes. These should be so made as to be put -on, on the stage, without much trouble._] We were going as an old lady -and her granddaughter. The dresses are very simple, and I think they -will do admirably. - -[Illustration: - - “I AM QUITE LOST IN THIS CAP.” -] - -_Charles._ Done! I accept that. Now, quick! before any one has time to -surprise us. - -_John._ Say, Charles, will you be the grandmother? - -_Charles._ All right, and you the girl. - -_Fournichon._ Don’t make any mistakes; the crinoline belongs to this -skirt. - -_Charles._ I am quite lost in this cap. - -_Fournichon._ You must have a wig on first. - -_John._ Just look here, Fournichon, this dress isn’t long enough. - -_Fournichon._ Why, of course, you’re only in short skirts as yet. - -_John._ Ah! is that it? - -_Charles._ John, don’t I look charming? - -_John._ Quite enchanting! If you were my grandmother, I should certainly -fall in love with you. - -_Charles._ Where’s my wig? - -_Fournichon._ Here are plenty, just choose one for yourself. - -_John._ These curls are what will suit me. [_Puts on the wig, and a -round straw hat on the top of it._] - -_Charles._ This grey one will just do for me. [_Puts it on, and then the -cap._] Now, I’m ready! Sapristi! How hot it is. There’s the bell. - -_John._ Good gracious, now we’ve got it! - -_Fournichon._ Quiet now; sit down before it’s too late. - -_Charles._ What’s the good of that? our voices will betray us. - -_Fournichon._ You must not talk. Just you trust to me, and it will be -all right. - - - II. - -CHARLES _and_ JOHN _seated at a table, with their backs to the other -actors. Enter_ BOM DE SAC, _the police agent, fuming and swearing_. - -_Bom de Sac._ When I was with the First regiment, and was three times -wounded in two battles.... Ah! good-morning, Mr Hairdresser ... three -times wounded,—it would never have happened to me to let two scoundrels -escape. Never! - -_Fournichon._ What’s your pleasure, Mr—Mr—— - -_Bom de Sac._ Bom de Sac, if you please—with the Third regiment—in four -battles, five wounds. - -_Fournichon._ Does M. Bom de Sac want his hair cut? - -_Bom de Sac._ Many thanks, I always do that myself. I learnt that with -the Fourth ... when I was six times wounded in five battles. But, sir, -that is not the point at present. I was just going to say that this -morning two scoundrels—— - -_Fournichon._ Scoundrels? - -_Bom de Sac._ Scoundrels, or students, whichever you like to call them. - -_Fournichon._ Well, and what did they do? - -_Bom de Sac._ Just imagine, sir. I was at the baker’s, and the maid was -standing on a ladder outside cleaning the window, when two -good-for-nothing vagabonds came up, took up a pail of water, and threw -it at the girl, and the girl fell right through the window in among the -currant-buns! - -_Fournichon._ Not killed, I hope. - -_Bom de Sac._ No, the buns had broken her fall. But I was out of the -house in a flash, and after the fellows. _Sacré nom de guerre!_ if I -could still run as I could when I was in the Fifth ... and wounded seven -times in six battles ... they would never have escaped me! But they are -here! - -_Fournichon._ Have a glass? - -_Bom de Sac._ If you please. [_Drinks._] Thank you. I am told they came -into this house, and if so, they’ll have to come out, sir! - -_Fournichon._ Here! How is it possible? You are quite free to search the -room if you like. These ladies are my grandmother and my cousin. - -_Bom de Sac_ (_seeing them for the first time, salutes_). Ah! _Honneur -aux dames_, as we used to say in the Sixth. I hope you won’t mind, -ladies. - -_Fournichon._ You need not give yourself the trouble of speaking to -them. The old lady is stone deaf, and won’t understand a word, and she -watches over her granddaughter so carefully that she cannot bear to see -a gentleman speak to the girl, because she cannot hear what he is -saying. - -[Illustration: - - “SACRE NOM DE GUERRE!” -] - -_Bom de Sac._ Well, where in the thunder can they have got to? I was -quite certain of finding them here. - -_Fournichon._ And I am quite certain you will do no such thing. [_Looks -out of window._] - -_Bom de Sac._ But—_nom de nom!_—how is it possible? - -_Fournichon._ Just look here, Monsieur Bom de Sac, could these be the -gentlemen that have just passed laughing? Both of them have white hats. - -_Bom de Sac_ (_rushing to the window_). Where? - -_Fournichon._ Ah! what a pity! they have just this moment gone round the -corner towards the Botermarkt. - -_Bom de Sac._ White hats, you say? The devil!—that must be they, and -they shan’t escape me this time. [_Exit._] It’s not for nothing that I -had ten wounds in nine battles when serving with the Eighth. - -_Charles._ Bad luck to the fellow! he has made it warm for us! - -_John._ If it had lasted any longer, I am sure I should have made some -remarks on my own account. If some one else comes, we really must find -some other place, for I really can’t sit still so long in these blessed -skirts. - -_Charles._ Shall we stand up then? - -_John._ Why not. [_Jumps on one of the chests._] Look here, I’ll bet you -anything you like I can stand half-an-hour like this without moving. -Don’t I look like a waxwork figure of summer? - -_Charles._ The devil you are! [_Gets on the other chest._] And I winter, -to match. - -_Fournichon._ Splendid, gentlemen, it couldn’t be finer. Just stand -still like that. [_A ring at the bell._] - -_Charles_ (_getting down_). Preserve us!—now we’re in for it. - -_John._ No, Charles, stick to your post. - -_Charles._ I can’t possibly stand still all that time. - -_Fournichon._ It won’t be necessary. Just stand in any easy attitude, -and you can change your position quietly from time to time, without our -tiresome visitor becoming aware of it. - -_Charles._ Well, I’ll see what I can do. [_Climbs up again._] - -_Fournichon._ Hush! he’s coming! - - _Enter_ MEIJER. - -_Meijer._ Good-day, Monsieur Fournichon. Good-day, ladies. (_To -Fournichon._) Why are you laughing? - -_Fournichon._ At your taking those waxworks for ladies. Ha! ha! ha! - -_Meijer._ Waxworks, you say! How astonishingly lifelike! It’s true, -though, it would be a queer position for living beings to stand in. - -_Fournichon._ Well done, are they not? It is an allegorical -representation of winter and summer. - -_Meijer._ Very pretty, very pretty indeed! You hair-dressers have always -something curious on hand. - -_Fournichon._ That’s to say, sir, they are not my property. They have -been sent to me to look after the _coiffures_, and they are to go to -London,—to Madame Tousseau’s museum. - -_Meijer._ Oh, indeed!—indeed! Well, art has made great strides. - -_Fournichon._ Great strides, sir! You’re quite right there. Just feel -now—elastic as india-rubber—quite like a human being. - -_Meijer._ Wonderful! wonderful! But I am in a hurry—can you shave me? - -_Fournichon._ Certainly, sir, sit down! [_Gives him a chair between John -and Charles, but rather more towards the back of the shop. Goes on -shaving him, and talking at the same time._] Your barber, sir, does not -know his business. Your skin and complexion are quite spoilt. - - [_John changes his position._] - -_Meijer_ (_starting up_). Good heavens! - -_Fournichon._ No need to be uneasy, sir; there is nothing really -dangerous. - -_Meijer._ No, that’s not what I was thinking of,—but that doll of -yours—the summer one—is moving! - -_Fournichon._ Oh! that is nothing surprising—perhaps I stepped on the -floor rather heavily. You must know these figures are full of steel -springs inside, and the slightest vibration makes them move. Just look -now! - - [_Stamps on the floor. John and Charles immediately change their - positions._] - -_Meijer._ Ah! thank you for your explanation. I really never should have -understood it. - - [_Sits down again, and Fournichon goes on shaving him till he has - finished. Meijer rises._] - -_Meijer._ Thanks. Can you give me change? - -_Fournichon._ I’ll go and get it. - - [_Exit. Meijer goes to look at the waxworks._] - -_Meijer._ They _are_ curious, though! I have often seen waxworks before, -but never so graceful, so lifelike as these. Whenever any one stamps on -the floor, they move. [_Stamps—John and Charles again change their -attitudes._] Just look at that! how pretty! Once more! Sublime! And -that’s the way they keep on! [_Stamps again, and continues to do so, -faster and faster—John and Charles changing their position with every -stamp; but at length they begin to grow tired of it—they jump down from -their pedestals, seize Meijer, and hold him fast, saying_, “You rascal! -this is too much of a good thing!” _They strike him, and push him out at -the door—losing their wigs in the struggle—after which they burst out -laughing, and drop exhausted into their chairs. Enter F._] - -_Fournichon._ Gentlemen! what have you been up to now? Such an infernal -row I never heard before! You’ll wake all the babies in the -neighbourhood. - -_Charles_ (_laughing_). Oh! the conceited blockhead! - -_John._ The worshipper of waxwork groups! - -_Fournichon._ Well—where is he? What have you done with him? - -_Charles._ We have put him out at the door as quietly and deliberately -as possible. - -_Fournichon._ Well—and why? - -_John._ Because he bored us too much. He was so delighted with the -mechanism of the figures, that we might have kept on dancing till -to-morrow morning if we had not put an end to the business ourselves. - -_Fournichon._ And what about your coiffures? - -_Charles._ Why, that’s true! What can have become of them! - -_Fournichon._ Oh! good heavens! here they are, lying on the ground like -any old rubbish! [_Picks them up, along with the hat and cap._] Just -look!—they are not worth a cent now! - -_John._ Oh! just put the things away—we don’t want them any more,—and if -they’re spoilt, we’ll pay for them. - -_Fournichon._ In that case, sir, it doesn’t matter. [_Lays everything on -a table. The bell rings._] Hé! who’s that now? - -_Charles._ It doesn’t matter to me who it is. Any one may come who -likes—I’m not going to act in this farce any longer. - -_Fournichon_ (_looks through the door_). Look out, gentlemen—it’s the -agent—Bom de Sac! - -_John and Charles_ (_springing up_). That fellow! No! that will never -do! [_They sit down at the table, as before, and put on their -headdresses, but without seeing that they have taken the wrong ones, -John putting on the grey wig and cap,—Charles, the curls and round straw -hat. Bom de Sac heard speaking outside the door_:]—No, _sacré nom de -nom_! Mijnheer Meyer has lent me a hand. What are people thinking of? It -was not for nothing I was wounded eleven times in ten battles, with the -9th Regiment. They are here—I’m certain of that! [_Enters._] - -_Fournichon._ Search as much as you like, sir, but remember, if you -please, that, in the presence of ladies.... - -_Bom de Sac._ Of course, of course! I always said, “_Honneur aux -dames_.” [_Looks at the ladies and salutes, then takes a step backward -in amazement._] _Sacré nom de guerre!_ - -_Fournichon._ What’s the matter? - -_Bom de Sac._ Have I come to my age—not to speak of twelve wounds in -eleven battles—to let myself be fooled like this? - -_Fournichon._ I don’t understand you. - -_Bom de Sac._ No, perhaps not. But I understand how it is possible for -these ladies to have changed heads at a moment’s notice. Look here! [_He -takes off the wigs._] The young lady is getting grey, and the -grandmother is going backwards to her childhood. Come with me, now, -gentlemen—I arrest you both! - -_Fournichon._ Your own fault, gentlemen. I wash my hands of the whole -business. - -_Charles._ We have a word to say to that, John. - -_John._ Certainly. - -_Bom de Sac._ Gentlemen, conspiracies or plots in which more than one -person are concerned are forbidden by law. Will you come with me, or -not? - -_Charles._ I suppose we shall have to. - -_John._ Do you want us to come with you as we are? - -_Bom de Sac._ Just as you like, gentlemen. I arrest you, and that is all -my share in the business. The rest does not concern me. - -_Charles_ (_whispers to John, then continues aloud_). Just listen, -Monsieur Bom de Sac,—though we find it very unpleasant to have fallen -into your hands, we are not children, and we are quite capable of -understanding that there is nothing for it but to give in. But just let -us change our clothes first—we’ll give you our word of honour not to go -out of the door without letting you know. - -_Bom de Sac._ Very good! We have been young, too, you see. Just go on, -gentlemen. If you give me your word, that is enough. [_While he goes on -talking to Fournichon, John and Charles take off their costumes and tie -Bom de Sac’s coattails to the table._] Yes, Mr Hairdresser, when I was -with the 11th, and had been wounded thirteen times in twelve battles, -then I thought to myself,—it’s quite enough, Bom de Sac, you have done -quite enough for your country; you’re growing old—and a soldier may be -too old. I was then brigadier, and understood that it was getting time -for me to make room for another. So I came home to my old mother ... I -married a young wife.... - -_Charles._ ... and received, in thirteen battles.... - -_Bom de Sac._ Ah!—are you ready, gentlemen? - -_John._ At your service, my worthy sergeant of police! We are quite -ready, and now warn you that we are about to leave. [_Charles and John -go out by the door at the back of the stage, arm in arm, saying, as they -go._]—_Bon soir._ - -_Bom de Sac._ Wait—I’m coming with you! _[Tries to go, but finds himself -fastened to the table._] Bad luck to them! are they going to give me the -slip after all? - -_Fournichon._ I see a good chance of it. Look here, Monsieur Bom de Sac, -you have, in far too many battles received more than too many wounds to -be anything like a match for these young fellows. They have been sharper -than you,—so you’ll have to acknowledge yourself beaten, and e’en let -them alone. By the time you get outside the door they will be far beyond -your reach. - -_Bom de Sac._ You’re right enough there, so I shall keep the whole -matter to myself, and wish them a pleasant evening. - - _Anon._ - - - - - _IN THE LITTLE REPUBLIC._ - - -It was in the smallest Republic of our Continent—Altenet—rich in mines -of zinc. It lies, like a tiny wedge, between the great German empire, -the small kingdom of Holland, and the still smaller one of Belgium. - -Seldom has a stranger set foot here; few know the district even by name; -only a single encyclopædia makes mention of it; the atlases have -forgotten it,—nay, it has even been forgotten by the political world. - -When the separation between Belgium and Holland took place in 1830, the -representatives of the various powers could not come to any agreement -over this little piece of ground. It was therefore resolved to declare -it “neutral territory,” till a later Congress should find a better -solution to the problem. - -The old schoolmaster of the neighbouring village of Oppenaken always -asserted that the learned politicians assembled at the aforesaid -Congress had been too drunk to know what they were doing. If his -listeners looked at him incredulously, or began to laugh, he would -indignantly ask, “Don’t you believe me? Then I’ll prove it!” And then he -would fetch an atlas, open it at the map of the Netherlands, and, -following with his finger the boundary of our provinces of Limburg and -Brabant, continue—“Just look at this line here how it goes—first to the -left, then to the right—here crooked, then slanting—then again forward -for a bit, then backwards—one minute straight, and then again with a -great bend—isn’t it just like the line a tipsy man would take in -walking?” - -In the year 1866 another European Congress took place; but it seemed as -though the gentlemen taking part in it had not recovered from the -effects of the drinking bout attributed to them by the Oppenaken -schoolmaster, for this time Altenet was forgotten—forgotten for good and -all. - -[Illustration: - - “TOO DRUNK TO KNOW WHAT THEY WERE DOING.” -] - -Thus the Altenetters lived on, independent of all foreign domination. -The miners continued to extract zinc from the ground, and pile it up in -the great waggons which transported it to other countries; the peasant -ploughed his field and reaped his grain; the wind might be heard sighing -in the clumps of trees on the hill-tops, the brook rushing and murmuring -between the rocks, and the lark singing high in air—and what could you -want more? - -The government of the little Republic was entirely in the hands of the -burgomaster, Willem Drikus Bloemstein, a broad-shouldered man of portly -presence, red-haired and red-bearded, fully conscious of his own -importance, and loyally supported in all his works and ways by the elect -of Altenet, who were associated with him as Councillors. - -It was quite an earthly Paradise—a little Eden full of peace and -happiness! Here was no such thing as strife or hatred, for parties had -no existence, and life offered no opportunity for insult or injury on -political grounds. The taxes were not high, and there was no standing -army, so that no one thought it necessary to hold meetings in order to -discuss the advantages and disadvantages of compulsory service. The only -measure taken for the defence of the country was the weekly drill of the -rural rifle corps; and though no one was forced to take his place in its -ranks, yet every right-minded man of Altenet felt it his duty to place -himself under the orders of General Bauer—on working days an energetic -mine-superintendent. - -Suddenly this happy state of things was disturbed. - -A tiresome man—a German politician—had discovered the above-mentioned -negligence on the part of the statesmen of Europe, and pointed out to -the Government of his country that here was an opportunity for -gratifying its well-known love of annexation. The high and mighty -Reichstag took the hint, and resolved to proceed to a speedy settlement -of the still unsolved question of the division of Altenet. - -A storm of indignation swept through the whole Republic. The head of the -State, honest Bloemstein, immediately summoned all the members of the -Council, in order to consult as to ways and means of averting the -threatened misfortune, and the summons was obeyed by every one. - -They were all assembled. Klessens, the rich brewer; young Holzert, an -ugly little man, whose bow-legs were a continual challenge to any poodle -who had learned to jump through a hoop, but whose shrewdness and clear -insight into things were praised by every one; the just-mentioned Bauer, -the commander of the rifle corps; Marbaise, the landlord of the “Lump of -Zinc”; and Conrads, the wealthy farmer. - -“What’s got to be done?” was the question addressed by Bloemstein to the -notables of Altenet. - -“It seems to me we ought to write the Prussian a civil letter, telling -him not to trouble his head about us,” was the opinion delivered by -Klessens, after coughing and clearing his throat for some time. - -“You stupid fellow!” replied Bauer, pulling in an impressive manner at -his thick moustache, “do you think the insolent dog of a Prussian will -care anything for a civil letter? No, my boy, you don’t know him yet; -_au contraire_, we ought to show him we’re not afraid.” - -“Why, then! there _will_ be war!” was timidly interjected by Conrads. - -“Very well then! there will be war!” The rest nodded assent. - -“But that will surely be a great-to-do,—couldn’t we wait at least till -the crops are in?” - -“We won’t wait a moment! I shall march with the Rifles to-morrow, right -along the Prussian border, and then the miserable wretches can see that -we’re not afraid of them!” and Bauer banged the table with his fists. - -“That’s not nearly enough,” suggested Marbaise; “the custom-house -officers might forget to write to the Emperor about it, and as long as -he doesn’t know it, it all goes for nothing.” - -“We ought to write to him ourselves, and not civilly,—no, indeed!—but as -impudently as we can; and you must sign the letter, Bloemstein, just as -if you were a king yourself, and put under it ‘Wullem the First, -President of the Republic of Altenet.’” - -[Illustration: - - “BAUER BANGED THE TABLE WITH HIS FISTS.” -] - -“Wullem, Wullem! why, there are so many Wullems,” was the opinion of the -man addressed; “the Dutch one is called so, and the Prussian too. -‘Wullem!’—it’s so common.” - -“But you have another name, haven’t you?” asked another Councillor. - -“Yes, of course,—Drikus.” - -“Very well, then,—Drikus the First. What do you think of that?” - -“Well, well,” muttered Klessens. “‘Drikus the First, President of the -Republic of Altenet’; it doesn’t sound bad, not bad at all.” - -“Wouldn’t it be still better to say, ‘President of the _Independent_ -Republic’?” added the warlike Bauer. - -“We might do that,” was the general verdict. - -“But then we ought to be called Ministers,” suggested Conrads. - -“Of course!” chorussed the rest. - -“In that case, I suppose I shall be Minister of War?” asked Bauer. - -“Certainly.” - -“And I of Agriculture?” asked Conrads. - -“Very good, too.” - -“Marbaise for Finance.” - -“And whom shall we have for Home Affairs?” - -“It seems to me that wouldn’t be a bad thing for you, tailor,” put in -Bloemstein, addressing Councillor Holzert. - -“I have no objection,” replied the latter; “but I’d just like to say -something too.” - -“Councillor Holzert will now address the meeting.” - -A sudden silence fell on the assembly; all were straining their ears to -hear what thoughts had arisen in the tailor’s shrewd brain. Speaking -slowly, and emphasising every word, he began,— - -“We must have stamps made—big stamps, with your head on them, -Bloemstein; and then we’ll send a letter, with a stamp like that on it, -you understand, not to the Emperor of Prussia, but to Bismarck, because, -after all, he’s the fellow that does everything; and you must write in -that letter, just to rile him, that we are going to let all the priests -and Jesuits he has driven out come freely into our country.” - -“But only on condition that they brew no beer,” interrupted the brewer, -Klessens. - -The tailor made believe not to have heard this interested remark, and -ended his speech with the question, “What do you think of _that_ idea?” - -“Bravo, bravo!” cried all; and “You’re a sharp lad; you’re a clever -fellow,” added the chairman of the meeting, as he passed his hand -complacently over the head whose portrait was shortly to be sent to the -Chancellor of the German Empire. - -“We haven’t done yet,” continued Holzert; “we have still to find out how -we’re going to put your head on the stamps,—with a beard, with a -moustache only, or without anything at all.” - -“Why, you do think of everything, tailor!” observed Marbaise. - -Bauer declared that there could be no two opinions on the point—“With a -moustache, that’s quite military,” and, as he spoke, he twisted the ends -of his own. - -“But I don’t think it would look very well—a red moustache,” objected -Marbaise. - -“Why, what does that matter? You can’t see it in the picture,” returned -Conrads. “Bismarck has a white one.” - -“I don’t quite know whether you’re right,” began Holzert again; “just -look at Napoleon,—I mean the great Napoleon,—he’s got nothing, no beard -and no moustache, and yet he sent the Prussians to the right-about, time -and again; but what do you think about it yourself, Bloemstein?” - -“Well, what am I to say to you? A beard is not respectable, and I shall -have mine shaved off; then we can see if the moustache alone looks well; -and if that is not the case, I’ll have that taken off too.” - -All thought this an excellent idea. - -“Don’t get shaved here, though. You’d better have that done at -Aix-la-Chapelle, and then you can get yourself taken at the same time -for the stamps.” - -“Among the Prussians? Never! as long as I live. I’ll never help them to -earn a cent,” thundered Bloemstein. - -“In Maastricht, then,” suggested another. - -“All right. I’ll have it done on Monday. Has any one anything more to -say to the meeting?” - -They looked at each other, but no one broke the silence. - -“No one’s got nothing, then?” - -“Just wait a minute,” cried Conrads. “You ought to have a crown, -Bloemstein.” - -“A crown?—that’s expensive.” - -“Nonsense; have one made of brass, and well polished up, then it will -shine just as if it were gold.” - -“Then we ought to have Ministers’ uniforms. I’ll make them as cheap and -as quickly as possible,” said the tailor-Minister; “and then I’ll make a -long cloak for you, Bloemstein.” - -“If the gentlemen will allow, I’ve something more to say,” said -Marbaise. - -“It’s Marbaise’s turn to speak.” - -“We ought to forbid all Altenet girls marrying Prussians.” - -“What about my Marieke, who’s courting with the Prussian doctor?” was -Bloemstein’s terrified reply. “What a set-out my daughter will make—and, -above all, my wife, when I tell them that.” - -“Then you must just say that our country doesn’t permit it,” and the -whole assembly nodded in token of assent. - -“Oh, Lord!” groaned the unlucky President; “it’s the hardest thing you -could ask me to do.” - -“Our country! the Republic! the Independent Republic!” cried the others, -wagging their heads hither and thither, shrugging up their shoulders, -and holding out their hands with all their fingers extended in air. - -[Illustration: - - “BOTH WALKED ON IN SILENCE.” -] - -Here the weighty deliberations came to an end; and thereupon the -President and his Ministers slowly proceeded homewards. - -Holzert escorted the newly appointed ruler to his dwelling. For a -considerable time both walked on in silence. At last the tailor spoke: - -“Bloemstein,” he began, “if your Marieke is not to marry the Prussian -doctor, ... in that case ... I’d like to have her. I always had a liking -for the girl; but I couldn’t say anything; ... but now I’m Minister of -the Interior, ... that sounds fine, eh? ... that’s something.... I think -perhaps it might do.” - -“Why, my good fellow, I’ve nothing against you. You always were a clever -chap, and you’ve shown it again with those stamps. It would be a good -enough idea; ... but—Marieke! and then my wife!” - -“But, after all, you’re the master. Why, you’re the king of everything -in the place! You must put on a bold face, and stand firm!” - -“Very well, lad, I’ll try.” - -With wrathful strides, his head well thrown back, and his hand resting -on the front of his ample waistcoat, Bloemstein entered his own house. - -Marieke sprang to meet him, embraced him cordially, and then said, -“Father, I’ve just had a letter from Heinrich, he’s coming to dinner -with us to-morrow.” - -“I’m very sorry, child; but this marriage with the Prussian doctor can’t -come to anything. I’ve another husband for you. You’re to marry my -Minister of the Interior.” - -“Whom do you say I am to marry?” - -“My Minister of the Interior.” - -“Who’s that?” - -“Mr Holzert.” - -“The crooked tailor! what a joke! I didn’t know you could be so funny, -father!” - -“It’s no joke; it’s quite serious, Marieke!” and he recounted all that -had taken place at the meeting. - -Marieke, however, was not convinced. “I won’t have him!” she cried, and -stamped her little foot on the ground;—“and if you say I must, I’ll -never marry at all!—there! ... I’ll go and tell mother about it!” - -Bloemstein did not await the arrival of his better half. Under pretext -of urgent business, the ruler of all Altenet, except his own house, -hastily escaped up the street, and did not return home till late in the -evening. - -On the following day—it was Sunday—all Altenet was clean turned upside -down. - -Bauer had summoned all his riflemen, as soon as high mass was over, and -they assembled in full uniform at the tavern kept by the Minister of -Finance. - -In a vigorous and pithy speech,—which he had been thinking over all -night,—he explained to his troops the danger which threatened the -country. - -His manly language carried his audience with him. The shout, “We’ll -conquer or die!” raised by the Minister of War, was loudly echoed by -every one; and in order still further to raise their courage, they all -added, “Another drop all round!” which was poured out by the Minister of -Finance in his shirt-sleeves, and with fingers trembling with emotion. - -“And now,” yelled Bauer, “we’re going to make a military march along the -Prussian frontier, and then all that _canaille_ can see that we’re not -afraid of them. Marbaise—you with the drum, your eldest boy with the -accordeon, and the other with the trumpet in front,—you three are the -band. Then you, Ummels, with the flag; and you, Gradus, with the bird; -and then we, the people!” - -However, it was a considerable time before all of them had left the -tavern and taken up their positions. - -They were a peculiar-looking troop, of about a hundred and twenty men; -mostly broad-shouldered fellows, though not tall—a kind of build common -to most miners. They wore all possible costumes, of all sorts of -colours; check trousers and black coats—blue blouses, long, short, new, -or half-worn;—suits of cloth, wool or linen—here and there a hero -marching in _sabots_. The majority were armed with old-fashioned -bell-mouthed blunderbusses; some, the tallest of the lot, were provided -with double-barrelled fowling-pieces, which at once branded them as -poachers. - -[Illustration: - - “CAUSED THEM TO GO THROUGH ALL POSSIBLE MANŒUVRES.” -] - -All, however, had the same head-covering—a green cap, with yellow -braid,—and all had wooden pipes in their mouths. The flag matched the -caps—white and yellowish green. The place next to the flag was occupied -by the silver bird, hung round with all the gold and silver medals worn -by the Altenetters in shooting competitions. - -“Look out!” cried Bauer, who, in token of his exalted position was hung -round with a string of small silver plates of different shapes and -sizes, and who, besides, showed his superior dignity by smoking, not a -pipe like the rest, but a cigar of immense length and thickness, which -had cost him two cents and a half. - -All placed themselves in position. - -“Right-about-face, and along the cinder path to the Prussian frontier. -Band, advance!” - -They advanced, with drum beating and accordeon chirping. Just in full -view of the German officials, who had come out to ascertain the cause of -the approaching noise, Bauer called a halt. Then he caused them to go -through all possible manœuvres, shoulder arms, port arms,—but not -“present”—_that_ he would never do “for those pig-dogs of Prussians.” - -These evolutions did not appear to command any particular admiration on -the part of the Germans; pitying smiles were seen to pass over their -countenances, and when at the command “Right-about-face!” half the -company turned to the left, so that the soldiers of Altenet stood facing -each other, they burst into a roar of laughter, which so aroused the -wrath of Klaos Drehmans (who had spent some years at Sittard), that he -stepped out of the ranks, and snorted defiance at the principal -custom-house clerk as follows:— - -“You! do you know what _you_ are? you’re a regular nuisance!” while -another member of the Altenet militia yelled at the top of his voice, -quite at a loss for a worse epithet, “Oh! thou accursed Prussian of a -Prussian!” - -It was truly a triumphal march when the Republican army returned from -this glorious campaign; the inhabitants uttered loud cries of joy, -alternating with abuse of the cowardly Prussian lot. - -Bloemstein stood, proudly defiant, in the full consciousness of his -presidential dignity, on the “stoop” of his house. And when the -standard-bearer had waved his flag three times over his head in the -President’s honour, and then tossed it on high, the President smiled -very genially, and waved back a salute with his hand, blowing thick -clouds of smoke the while from his long German pipe, a proceeding which -elicited thundering “hurrahs” from assembled Altenet. - -The only Altenetters who had not been able to witness this sublime -spectacle were Bloemstein’s wife and daughter; they had walked out to -meet Dr Olthausen coming from Aix-la-Chapelle, and fell in with him near -the village of Vaals. - -After the usual salutations, Marieke related to her betrothed all the -changes which had taken place in the government of Altenet, and also her -father’s resolution to marry her to the Minister of the Interior. At -this part of the story the mother clenched her fists, her eyes flashed -fire, and she said, threateningly, “Just let the fellow come into our -house, and I’ll make him repent his Affairs of the Interior.” - -To the great surprise of both ladies, Olthausen did not appear to be -angry; on the contrary, he began to laugh loudly, and seemed especially -diverted by the story of the postage-stamps. - -“We’ll have a regular good joke out of that,” he said, still laughing; -“but I won’t come to dinner with you to-day.” - -“Are you afraid of Bloemstein?” asked the mother. “Because you needn’t -be; I shall be at dinner too.” - -“No, I’m not afraid of him—only of laughing more than I ought.” - -“Never mind that; laugh at him as he deserves, and we’ll laugh too, -won’t we, Marieke?” - -“_Nein, liebes Madamchen_,” returned the doctor, “it will be better if I -don’t come—we’ll have some dinner here.” - -[Illustration: - - “JUST LET THE FELLOW COME INTO OUR HOUSE.” -] - -He went with the two women into the nearest eating-house in the village -and ordered dinner, also two sheets of paper and an envelope. While the -ladies were dining, he wrote a letter on one sheet, slowly and -carefully, with beautiful round letters, then dashed off another more -hastily, and enclosed both in one envelope, which he stamped and -addressed to “Herrn Oscar Olthausen, Rechtsanwalt, Berlin.” He then -directed Marieke to wait till her father was about to send away the -letters with the new Altenet stamps. “Then you must keep back the one -addressed to Bismarck, and post this in place of it; and then I assure -you that everything will come right, without you or your mother getting -into any trouble with the old gentleman.” - -They remained chatting for some little time longer, and then Dr -Olthausen took his leave and returned to Aix-la-Chapelle. - -Early on the following day Drikus the First set out for Limburg’s -metropolis. Arrived there, he turned his steps towards the barber’s -shop. A young shopman came to meet him, and politely relieved him of his -coat and hat. - -“See here, lad,” began Bloemstein, “did you ever shave a president?” - -“Why, yes, sir; only yesterday the President of the Congregation of the -Sacred Heart.” - -“No, I don’t mean one like that; I mean a great president.” - -“Oh, the one of the great club?” - -“No—greater still.” - -“The President of the Tribunal, then?” - -“No; greater still—a president of a republic!” - -“Of a republic, you say? No, I never shaved one—never in my life!” - -“Do you know what he looks like?” - -“Why, yes—like a gentleman.” - -“Very good, my boy; I see you understand. Now, that’s the way you’ve got -to shave me—for I’m one.” - -“You a president of a republic? Ha! ha! ha!” - -“What are you laughing at, boy?” - -“Because you’re trying to make a fool of me.” - -“Indeed and I’m not. I’m Drikus the First, President of the Independent -Republic of Altenet.” - -The lad laughed no longer; he looked round in alarm, convinced that he -had a madman in the room with him. - -“Shave my beard off!” commanded Bloemstein. - -“Very well, Mr ... President.” - -“_À la bonne heure_, my lad! I like that—you know how to behave.” - -[Illustration: - - “SEE HERE, LAD, DID YOU EVER SHAVE A PRESIDENT?” -] - -As speedily as possible the wish of this strange customer was gratified. - -“Now just wait a bit, my boy. I must see how the moustache looks by -itself,” and the ruler of the republic placed himself before the mirror. - -He remained for some time lost in admiration, then began to turn the -points of his moustache first up and then down. - -“What do you think of it, lad? Is it good enough for a president of a -republic?” - -“I don’t know.” - -“Hold your tongue, then, can’t you?” - -“Very good, Mr ... President ... as you please.” - -Suddenly honest Bloemstein turned round and fairly snorted at the poor -youth. “Just shave this side off,” he blustered, pointing to the right -half of his countenance. - -The youthful Figaro hastened to comply, having heard that a madman must -not be contradicted or he may become violent. His request having been -complied with, the President rose in order to admire himself in the -mirror. He covered first one and then the other half of his face with -one hand, in order to convince himself which style was most becoming to -the presidential dignity. - -The attractions of the clean-shaven half at length prevailed, and the -last remaining hair was removed. - -“What have you got to get?” asked Bloemstein, when this was done. - -“Ten centimes ... Mr President.” - -“There are two groschen for you.” - -“I have to give you two centimes change.” - -“Never mind that—you may keep them. A president of a republic has -nothing mean about him.” - -And with a proud and stately demeanour he departed in the direction of -the photographer’s. Scarcely had he left the barber’s, when the boy -hastened to the police-office, to relate how he had just been shaving a -fellow who must certainly have just escaped from the lunatic asylum, for -he had told him quite seriously that he was the president of a republic. -A policeman started immediately with the terrified barber’s boy to -search the streets of Maastricht for the lunatic. - -It was, however, in vain. Bloemstein had already entered the studio of a -neighbouring photographer, muttering, “I shall have to explain myself -differently here. It seems as though these Maastricht people had never -heard of the president of a republic.” - -When the photographer appeared, he accordingly delivered himself as -follows: “I want my photograph taken, but it must be properly done, for -I am a king.” - -“Very good, sir. Shall I give you a gun, then, or do you prefer a bow?” - -“A gun!—a bow! What for?” - -“Why, I’ve photographed a whole number of kings, and they——” - -“Ah! you know how to do it then?” - -“Of course I do.” - -“What kings have you taken?” - -“Why, only yesterday the Gronsveld one, and a few days ago one from -Neer-Itteren.” - -“How—what—kings of Gronsveld and Neer-Itteren?” - -“Yes, of course—those of the archery competition.” - -“You confounded idiot!—did I get shaved for that? Do I look like a king -of the archery competition? Why, I am king of a country—of a republic—an -independent republic! Do you understand now?” - -“Oh heavens!” cried the artist to himself, “the fellow is certainly -touched in the upper storey, and I shall have to look out, or he’ll -knock the whole shop to pieces.” He made his visitor a low bow, and -said,— - -“Very pleased, sir, to be honoured with your custom. May I ask your -Majesty to take a seat.... How would you like your portrait, -full-length, or bust only?” - -“Nothing but the bust; it’s for the stamps of the country, do you -understand?” - -“Certainly, certainly, sir, and will you kindly look through this -thing?” - -[Illustration: - - “NOW YOU CAN GO AHEAD.” -] - -“Very good, but remember that I want it to look respectable—do you -hear? ... And just wait a bit—I must see if my hair is all right;” and -he hastened to the looking-glass, moistened his palms, smoothed his head -with them, and took his place, with a last self-satisfied look at his -own image. - -“Now you can go ahead.” - -The photographer placed himself in front of his apparatus, and declared, -a moment later, that the picture was a splendid success, notwithstanding -the fact that it was impossible to pronounce on that point with any -degree of certainty, since he had not the courage to go into the dark -room and leave his eccentric customer alone. - -“When will they be finished?” asked Bloemstein. - -“Oh! as soon as your Majesty likes to have them.” - -“Can I have them next week? All right then, just send them to Drikus the -First, King of the Independent Republic of Altenet.” - -“I’ll do so without fail, your Majesty.” - -“If they turn out well, I’ll come back and bring my wife the queen, and -my daughter the princess; and I’ll give you leave to hang out a fine -gilt signboard with your own name on it, and after that ‘Photographer to -the King of the Republic of Altenet.’” - -“I’ll do my best, your Majesty.” - -The photographer too, immediately after his visitor’s departure, -hastened away to the temple of Justice, with the tidings that a fellow -as mad as a hatter, calling himself king of a republic, had just been at -his studio. Another gendarme was at once sent in pursuit. - -Meanwhile the object of their solicitude had entered the church of St -Servaas. It had struck him that, since his august head ought certainly -to be adorned with a crown, he might here find a pattern for the same in -painting or sculpture. He remained standing a long time before a picture -representing the Adoration of the Magi, but none of the three crowns -worn by those royal personages suited his fancy. “They haven’t got -points enough,” he muttered, and searched further, but in vain, till at -last he came to a statue of the Madonna, which realised his ideal. There -was the crown he had always imagined—with points standing straight up -all round it. - -He delayed not a moment, but hastened out into the street, and entered -the first coppersmith’s shop he came to. - -“Can you make me a crown like Our Lady’s in St Servaas’s?” he asked. - -“Oh! yes, sir. What size do you want it?” - -[Illustration: - - “HIS AUGUST HEAD OUGHT CERTAINLY TO BE ADORNED WITH A CROWN.” -] - -“As big as my head; you can take the measure now.” - -“What for? You don’t want to wear it, do you?” - -“Of course I do—nothing is more certain.” - -“Sir, are you mad? or might you happen to be a Freemason?” - -“Mad! mad! Mad yourself, fellow!” - -“Just wait a bit, and I’ll show you which of us is mad!” and before the -poor president could assume a defensive attitude, the smith had seized -him and thrown him into the street. - -This roused Bloemstein’s wrath, and his objurgations speedily collected -a crowd in the street. - -“There he is!” a voice cried suddenly, echoed by “Now you’ve got him!” -from another quarter, as the barber’s boy and the photographer appeared -on the scene, escorted by a policeman apiece. In the twinkling of an eye -the two officials had mastered the furious president, and in spite of -his vigorous resistance, and his protestation that, as President of -Altenet, his person was inviolable, the unhappy man was lugged off to -the little dark hole known to the population of Maastricht as “the -larder.” - -“What is your name?” was the first question asked him by the police -commissioner. - -“You might ask it a little more civilly,” was the reply. - -The commissioner immediately complied with this request. - -“Will you be so kind as to tell me whom I have the honour of speaking -to?” - -“That’s the proper way to speak, and now I shall answer you. I am Wullem -Drikus Bloemstein, President of the Independent Republic of Altenet.” - -“And where do you live?” - -“Well, I should have thought you had no need to ask. At Altenet, the -capital of the Republic of Altenet.” - -“Thank you.” - -One of the inspectors was immediately despatched to Altenet to make -inquiries on the spot as to the personality of the prisoner. - -[Illustration: - - “THERE HE IS!” -] - -The officer returned the same day, with the tidings that all Altenet was -one great lunatic asylum; that every human being he had met and spoken -to there was even madder than the one who had been caught; everything he -had seen and heard was sheer nonsense and delirium, and so he had been -obliged to return as he came. - -Medical aid was summoned, but all in vain; the gentlemen were unable to -agree, one asserting that the patient was suffering from _aberratio -mentalis_, while another thought things were not so bad as that. - -“After all, what business is it of ours?” said one at last. “Send him -back to his home, and let them settle it among themselves.” - -This counsel met with unanimous approbation, and was, in fact, the most -practical, and at the same time the easiest, way of disposing of the -prisoner. - -Bloemstein was furious; and when the gendarmes who escorted him took -leave of him at the frontier, he was almost beside himself with rage. He -would have liked to take them with him into his dominions, where he was -undisputed lord and master; he would then have summoned the commander of -the local rifles, and ordered him to shut up the Maastricht officials -for a whole day in the cellar below the council-chamber. But, alas! fate -was against him, he could not gratify his desire for vengeance; but -being forced to relieve his feelings in some way, he did so by -indignantly shouting after their retreating figures, “You Dutch -cheese-heads, you!” - -With hasty steps he forthwith sought his chief counsellor, the Minister -for Home Affairs, the tailor Holzert. In excited language, and with wild -gestures, he related the story of the outrage suffered by him at -Maastricht, and asked, in conclusion, “What are we to do?” - -The tailor put his hand to his head, and remained for some little time -lost in thought. - -“What are we to do?” repeated Bloemstein; “we can’t let a thing like -that pass.” - -“What are we to do?” replied Holzert, speaking slowly and solemnly. -“Why, we must declare war against Holland.” - -“Declare war against Holland?” - -“Yes.” - -“And what for?” - -“For high treason.” - -“You’re right, you’re right; we must send for Bauer at once.” - -“No, not so fast; we must have the stamps first, with your head on them, -and then the Hollanders can see whom they have to deal with.” - -“You’re right again, tailor,” said Drikus I., flattered not a little by -these words. - -“Besides that, I haven’t finished the ministers’ suits yet, and we can -do nothing without them; everything has got to be respectable.” - -“Of course.” - -During the next few days an unheard-of political commotion prevailed in -the usually calm atmosphere of Altenet. - -Every evening, when work was over, Bauer’s rifles assembled in the -Minister of Finance’s public-house, in order to exchange ideas as to the -coming war with Holland. - -Guesses were given as to where the first battle would be fought, and -calculations were made as to how soon they would be before the gates of -Amsterdam, and how many thousand millions they would make the Dutch pay -as war indemnity. - -Bloemstein, meanwhile, wrote innumerable letters to all the powers of -Europe, to give them notice of his accession. All of them were enclosed -in large square envelopes, and laid out in a long row on the table. - -“And when once I’ve stuck on the stamps, with my head on them, why, -then, I shall be no end of a fellow, Marieke,” he repeatedly remarked to -his daughter. - -The portraits, however, did not arrive. - -[Illustration: - - “WROTE INNUMERABLE LETTERS TO ALL THE POWERS OF EUROPE.” -] - -After the lapse of a fortnight, Bloemstein’s ploughman—for he had no -intention of going to Maastricht again himself—was sent to the -photographer’s, to ask whether the portraits of the President of the -Republic of Altenet were not yet ready. - -“Do you really want them?—seriously?” inquired the artist. - -“I suppose so, seeing as how I had to come here a-purpose.” - -“Very well, I’ll send them next week.” - -At the appointed time the impatiently awaited packet at last arrived at -the house of Altenet’s ruler. Something else arrived as well,—the long -royal mantle promised by the tailor, richly ornamented with gold fringe. - -Bloemstein was quite excited with joy. Without a moment’s delay he flung -the royal insignia round his shoulders, and then stood before the -mirror, admiring his front and back view by turns. He was -satisfied—perfectly and entirely satisfied—both with the garment and him -who wore it! - -“The other fellows must see that too! Thunder! how they’ll stare!” - -Immediately Bloemstein’s man was sent to summon the council, and before -long Marbaise, Klessens, Conrads, Bauer, and Holzert entered—all clad in -their uniforms, consisting of long coats trimmed with gold lace, -knee-breeches, long woollen stockings of a doubtful white, and swords -dangling at their sides. - -It was quite evident that Holzert had given his whole time and attention -to the job, as was, moreover, irrefutably proved by an unexpected -incident. - -When all were gathered round the big table, loudly uttering their -admiration of their ruler’s portrait, long Kwoib Hermes suddenly rushed -into the room, in his red baize drawers, with the tails of a blue shirt -fluttering above them, and shouted aloud—“Thou accursed tailor, where -are my trousers? I must go to early mass to-morrow, and I have no -trousers!” - -“You shall have them to-morrow; to-morrow morning early, Kwoib,” replied -the indignant tradesman. - -“No, I want them to-night. You’ve promised me them all the week, and I’m -going to have those trousers of mine to-night.” - -“Man, don’t make such a scandalous row! Just think where you are—before -the ministers of the republican council!” - -“The ministers and the council and the whole republic may be stolen, for -all I care! I want my trousers, and I’m not going away from here before -I get them.” And therewith he took a chair, and seated himself among the -ministers of the crown. - -“Will you get out or not?” asked Bauer, threateningly. - -“No; I’m not going before I get my trousers.” - -Suddenly Bloemstein heard the steps of his wife and daughter, who were -coming to see what the noise was. Fearing that they might come in for -this unseemly spectacle, he thrust the intruder into the next room, with -the words, “There; you’ll find some trousers in there; just put them on -in the meantime.” - -Not long after, Hermes appeared in a garment much too short for him, -which, however, by way of compensation, was also a great deal too wide. - -The assembly was now able to finish its deliberations in peace and -quiet. The portraits having been unanimously approved of, No. 2 of the -Agenda came up for discussion. This was, “Declaration of war against -Holland on the ground of high treason.” The debate was lively and -confused. - -Bauer wanted to summon his men at once, surprise Maastricht the same -night, take the garrison prisoners, and march farther into the country. - -Conrads, on the other hand, could see no good in such incautious haste. -“Let’s wait till we get the corn in; then we can bake bread for our men -through the war.” - -“No need of that!” shouted Bauer. “We’ll get all the bread we want from -the Dutch.” - -Holzert was inclined to agree with Conrads, but for other reasons. “We -must ask for explanations first; that’s always the way,” he declared. -“We ought to give them time to investigate the outrage committed on our -president, and make their apologies. Besides that,” he added, “till we -have stamps of our own we can’t declare war.” - -“That’s true, that’s true!” cried several voices, “it would never do to -declare war on Holland with Prussian stamps.” - -“Very well, then,” raged Bauer, “but you must get them made directly, -Bloemstein!” - -“I’ll promise that,” replied the President. - -Herewith the solemn session concluded. - -[Illustration] - -A few weeks later the longed-for stamps appeared. They looked neat -enough. A striking likeness of Bloemstein was surrounded by a garland of -intertwined spades and pickaxes—symbols of labour—and above, in good -bold letters, ALTENET. - -There were blue, red, and green ones—of one, two, and three groschen -respectively. - -“Marieke! Marieke!” cried the delighted Bloemstein. “Come here, child; -I’ve something to show you. What do you think of that?” - -“Oh, quite beautiful, father!” - -“Really, child?” - -“And will they be sent to all the kings and emperors—all in the whole -world?” - -“All in the whole world.” - -“To Bismarck too?” - -“He’s going to get one as well; but it won’t please him, I assure you, -Marieke.” - -“Now you’ll need to send them off at once; may I help you to put the -stamps on?” - -“Surely, Marieke.” - -The father and daughter sat down before the table, on which lay the long -row of already written letters. - -“Here’s Bismarck’s!” cried the girl suddenly. - -“Put double stamps on that,” said Bloemstein. - -Instead of obeying this order, Marieke contrived to slip the letter into -her pocket. - -“Shall I take them to the post-office now, father?” - -“Yes, do, child—only mind you don’t lose any, specially the one to -Bismarck.” - -“You needn’t be afraid,” and she skipped out of the room to fetch her -hat, and perhaps also the letter she had received from her _fiancé_. - -It was not long before an answer came from Berlin. - -Bloemstein summoned his faithful councillors at once, in order to open -the official document in their midst. The ministers hastened to the -council-chamber, as fast as their legs could carry them. They took up -positions behind their President, and stuck their heads together, trying -to see with their own eyes the answer from the German Empire. - -With trembling hand Bloemstein opened the missive, and in a voice -quivering with emotion, he began to read, in German:— - - “_Verehrter Herr Präsident._ - - “In reply to your letter, I have received orders from my Emperor to - declare war on your Republic, and send off an army of 150,000 men to - the frontier, because— - - “1. You have caused postage-stamps to be made without permission from - the German Government. - - “2. It is known to us that you have been taking upon yourself to - oppose your daughter’s marriage to our loyal subject, Dr Heinrich - Olthausen. - - “3. You want to force that charming and lovely girl to marry an - objectionable, crooked tailor. - - “We give you a week to comply with our conditions. - - “BISMARCK.” - -There was a moment’s painful silence. There it was, in great fat round -letters—“BISMARCK.” There was no possible doubt about it. - -[Illustration: - - “DECLARE WAR!” -] - -“The confounded low _Schwerenöther_ of a Prussian!” yelled Holzert at -last, crimson with passion, and quivering on his little bow-legs. -“Declare war, Bloemstein! declare war!” he went on. “Let them come, the -low _canaille!_ we’ll blow up the mine as soon as they get on top of it, -and then there’ll be an end of them!” and suddenly turning to the -Minister of War, he added, “Bauer, how many men have you?” - -[Illustration: - - “HASTENED TO THE COUNCIL-CHAMBER.” -] - -“A hundred and twenty-three, counting the band,” was the answer. - -“That’s not one to a thousand,” suggested Conrads; “and besides that, -we’ve got the war with Holland on our hands,—it won’t do—it won’t do! -What do you think yourself, Bauer?” - -“What I think? I think you’re a coward, Conrads, to talk so—a coward, do -you understand? Conquer or die, that’s our cry!” - -“Yes, but we can’t conquer, and dying isn’t much good. Holzert won’t get -his Marieke by it if we do!” - -“But in that case the Prussian pig-dog won’t have her either!” shouted -Holzert, banging the table with his fists. - -At this, however, Bloemstein’s paternal feelings revolted. His daughter, -his pretty Marieke—dead! No, he would rather see her married to the -Prussian doctor, for the Prussians were not so bad after all! Nay, they -even knew how to appreciate beauty—had not Bismarck himself written that -she was a “charming, lovely girl”? - -Klessens also was for peace, and so was Marbaise. “Against 150,000 -Prussians,” said the latter, “and a few thousand Hollanders on top of -those, you, Bauer, with your hundred and twenty men——” - -“A hundred and twenty-three!” interrupted the commander of the Altenet -forces. - -“Well, a hundred and twenty-three, if you like—but you can’t do anything -with them!” - -A great deal more talking and shouting took place, and at last the -President determined to end the debate by putting the question to the -vote. - -“War!” yelled Holzert. “Peace!” “Peace!” “Peace!” muttered Conrads, -Marbaise, and Klessens, in succession. - -“War!” thundered Bauer; and “I’m for peace,” said the President in -conclusion. - -Peace was therefore resolved on by a majority of two votes. - -Several months have passed. The miners are at work again; the farmer is -ploughing his fields; the lark sings high in air; the Altenet -postage-stamps have been destroyed; and Marieke is the happy wife of Dr -Olthausen. - -No answer was ever received from the rest of the kings and emperors,—it -is just possible that Marieke may have forgotten to post the letters -entrusted to her care. - - L. H. J. LAMBERTS-HURRELBRINCK. - - - - - _NEWSPAPER HUMOUR_. - - -“LOOK here, waiter!” cried a gentleman in a restaurant, “here’s a hair -in my soup!” - -For all answer and excuse, the waiter removed his cap, showing a head as -bare and smooth as a billiard ball. - -“Yes, I see,” resumed the customer, “I see it was your last hair; that’s -all right, it will never happen again!” - - * * * * * - -“So you’ve written a play, M. Vermorcken?” - -“Yes, my friend, I have that honour.” - -“And it is quite finished?” - -“Yes—no—yes; that is to say, not the play itself, yet—but my speech, -that I am to make, when I thank them for calling me out on the stage.” - - - - - _FICTION AT SEA._ - - -It is quiet now on deck. The singing forward has ceased, the watch is -set, and the larboard watch, who are to come on at midnight, are -below—including the tall corporal of marines, whom we heard just now -singing bass. But the little monkey of a boy, who took the tenor part in -“O Julia!” belongs to the starboard watch, and now has another -occupation on hand. - -Seated on a tub turned upside down, close to the foremast, he is reading -aloud, by the light of a lantern, out of an “awfully fine” book. - -The boy (his name is Jozef) can read “real first-rate”; and from each of -the listeners seated round him he is to receive the sum of two cents. - -The book which he now has before him, and which is covered with -oil-stains, because he has to hold it so close to the lantern,—the book -which is so “awfully fine,” is entitled “Count Matatskai; or, The Bandit -with the Grey Beard: A Story from the Mountains.” - -Count Matatskai is a youthful nobleman who has fallen in love with a -mountain maiden, the beautiful but fierce Krimhelia, daughter of a -chamois-hunter. After various meetings on the rocks by moonlight, with a -faithful old servitor _incognito_ in the background, Krimhelia makes up -her mind to accept the Count’s love, and fly with him to a distant -country, where counts and the daughters of chamois-hunters stand -precisely on the same social footing. But now a difficulty occurs, and -it is this: Krimhelia has sworn an oath to avenge the death of her -father, who has been killed in a fight with the band commanded by the -Grey-Bearded Brigand. - -This is the point Jozef has reached in the story. Several of his -audience have already dropped asleep; but the reader does not notice -it—he is too much absorbed in his narrative,—and continues, in his -“first-rate” manner, which—heard at a distance—reminds one of nothing so -much as of the soft but continuous murmur of a babbling brook—commas and -other stops being, in this method, so entirely left in the background, -or else occurring in such remarkable places, that a reporter would have -been forced to reproduce his text somewhat as follows:— - -“Krimhelia looked the Count straight in the face. - -“Look at me Count said she do you see this glittering dagger as sure as -the moon, hangs yonder in heaven and illuminates my pale features so -surely will I thrust this, dagger into the heart of the Bandit, with the -Grey Beard first and before I throw myself as your consort into your -arms but why so pale Count and why do you tremble so?” - -Now Jozef is interrupted by the master-tailor, a thin, little man, of -whom it is commonly said on board that he knows a thing or two more than -most people. - -“Now, I know,” says he, in his piping voice. - -“What d’ye know?” asks the boatswain, who has little or no opinion of -the master-tailor. - -“As how the gentleman—the Count, I mean—and the other,—the Bandit with -the Grey Beard,—that both of them are one and the same man.” - -“Well, you calico-spoiler—you know that, do you? Well—I know that too, -and all of us know it right enough; but you needn’t take another man’s -share in the reading for all that. Go ahead, boy!” - -The master-tailor is looked at with contempt from various quarters, and -Jozef pursues his reading with a chapter describing how Count Matatskai -comes home in a bad temper. - -“The Count threw himself down on a couch adorned with costly velvet, -relieve me of my riding-boots—thus he spoke to the grey-headed old -servant Gabario who, brought him a silver goblet with sparkling wine -saying, that this was his favourite wine from the great vineyard south -of the castle but, the Count made a gesture of refusal with his left -hand and said me liketh no wine Gabario avaunt and saddle—my horse!” - -This was the end of the chapter, and Jozef took breath. - -“It’s a capital thing,” said the boatswain, “when a man can have the -things for the ordering in that way. What comes next, Jozef?” - -The boatswain is beginning to feel sleepy, and would therefore like -Jozef to tell him the end at once; but this Jozef is by no means -inclined to do,—he goes ahead valiantly, and by degrees, though he does -not observe it, his whole audience drops asleep. At last, when he has -reached the closing scene, there is no one to listen to it but the -master-tailor, who can scarcely keep his small grey eyes open. - -“Just hear this, now!” says Jozef, who—though he has read the book -through twice before—is as enthusiastic over this passage as the first -time. “Now you must listen! Now the Count is sitting up alone in the -rocks, in a ... cavern, they call it, ... and now he is the Bandit with -the Grey Beard; and the other robbers are sitting in the back of the -cavern round a great big fire, and some of them are lying asleep, and -the others are roasting great pieces of meat at the fire, and they’re -drinking wine with it ... out of gold cups that they’ve stolen.... But -the Bandit with the Grey Beard— ... _he’s_ sitting all by himself, you -see,—and now Krimhelia comes in—you know—the young lady he thinks so -much of.” - -And Jozef resumes his reading—how Krimhelia approaches, cautiously, with -the glittering dagger; how the Grey-Bearded Bandit, looking up, suddenly -sees her standing behind him; how Krimhelia seizes him by the beard and -drives the dagger into his heart; and how, at the same moment, the long -grey beard comes off in her hand, and she looks with horror on the -“pallid dying countenance” of Count Matatskai. - -Now follows a dialogue between the dying bandit chief and the “almost -fainting” Krimhelia, who is “filled with consternation”; in the course -of which the tailor finally closes his eyes unobserved. - -Now comes the closing scene; the other robbers come out from behind the -fire, Krimhelia takes to flight, and climbs to the top of a steep dark -rock on the edge of a “yawning abyss.” - -As Jozef reads, he bends over his book, leans his head on his hands, and -sees the whole thing taking place before his eyes. He sees Krimhelia -standing on the top of the rock. The day is breaking in the east. The -robbers are pursuing her, and begin to climb the rock.... - -Jozef reads on,—at a passionately accelerated pace, and with the most -singular stops imaginable:— - -“There she stood proudly—like a queen with her long, loose hair and her -shining white face standing out sharply against the red sunrise-tinted -sky with horror—she saw in the unfathomable depth at her feet the -bandits approaching. Already the foremost was stretching out his hand to -seize her and she saw, the morning-light falling on his horrible -features when suddenly, her ear was struck by a sound of men’s voices -singing beneath her in the valley she listens, it is the morning song of -her brothers, she lifts her hands skywards and looks up to the paling -moon and the stars ‘Ic-come’! she cries” (all in one word) “... and with -a HOARSE shriek she flings herself down into the abyss at the same -moment the Bandit Chief drew his last breath and the Count Matatskai was -no more THE END.” - -“That’s all!” said Jozef. “That’s fine, ain’t it? ... Oh! lor! ... -they’re all asleep.” - -Jozef cannot at once get over a slight feeling of indignation against an -audience, capable of dropping-off “in the middle of a bit like -that,”—but as it is not an isolated experience on his part, he soon -makes up his mind to pay no further attention to it. He takes the -lantern away, goes forward, and lies down on the deck with the -oil-stained book under his head—looking up at the moon right above him, -and beginning to see, in the air, all sorts of figures, which gradually -acquire a likeness to Count Matatskai and the “young lady he thinks so -much of.” - - _A. Werumeus Buning_. - - - - - _NEWSPAPER HUMOUR._ - - - FROM SAD EXPERIENCE. - -_She_—“Do tell me, how do you know the age of a horse you want to buy?” - -_He_—“Nothing easier; you just double the age the dealer gives him.” - - * * * * * - -_Professor_ (_at a clinical lecture_)—“This patient has been suffering -from a disease of the hip-joint, so that he still walks lame to an -appreciable extent. What would you, sir” (to one of the students), “do -in such a case?” - -_Student_—“I think, in that case, I should walk lame too, sir.” - - * * * * * - - NATURAL HISTORY. - -_Master_—“The development and improvement of race has not only shown -itself among mankind, but may clearly be observed among the lower -animals. Who can give me an example of this?” - -[Illustration: - - FROM SAD EXPERIENCE. -] - -_Janneke Snobs_—“I, sir.” - -_M._—“In what sort of animals?” - -_J. S._—“Among asses, sir.” - -_M._—“How so?” - -_J. S_.—“Why, in Balaam’s time, asses were only just beginning to speak, -and yesterday I heard M. Snugger say that there are plenty of asses -sitting in the Chamber of Deputies.” - - * * * * * - - HISTORY. - -_Master_—“In what battle was Gustav Adolf killed?” - -_Janneke Snobs_—“In his last battle, I believe, sir.” - - * * * * * - - PRECAUTIONS. - -Many centuries ago, the gallows stood on the banks of the Scheldt; and -once, when two thieves were to be hanged, the rope broke, as the first -was being turned off, and let him into the water. He swam across the -river, and escaped. - -“Look out!” said the second to the executioner, “see that the rope does -not break with me—for _I can’t swim!_” - - * * * * * - -A gentleman was buying a newspaper at a kiosk, and wanted change for a -frank. “I have no change,” said the saleswoman; “you can pay me -to-morrow.” - -“But supposing I am dead by to-morrow?” - -“Oh, that can’t be any great loss,” she replied, innocently. - - * * * * * - -A servant girl, writing home to her parents, said, “I am sorry I have no -money to buy a stamp for this letter; I will put two on the next.” - - _Uilenspiegel._ - -[Illustration: - - “A GENTLEMAN WAS BUYING A PAPER AT A KIOSK.” -] - - * * * * * - - IN COURT. - -_Judge_—“Is this your signature?” - -_Witness_—“I don’t know.” - -_Judge_—“Look at it carefully.” - -_Witness_—“I can’t say for certain.” - -_Judge_ (impatiently)—“Come, make haste, just write your name.” - -_Witness_—“I’m no scholar, sir; I can’t write.” - - * * * * * - - ECONOMY. - -_Father_—“I should never have thought that studying would have cost so -much money.” - -_Student-Son_—“Yes; and if you only knew how little I have studied!” - - * * * * * - -Van Honsbœren, junior, one evening sat gazing at his father, when the -latter had fallen asleep sitting by the stove. - -“Father,” cried the little fellow, suddenly, “you look just like a -lion!” - -“A lion!” exclaimed Van Honsbœren, waking up, “why, you’ve never seen -any lions.” - -“Oh yes, father! on the beach at Blankenberghe.” - -“You stupid boy, those were not lions, they were donkeys.” - -“Well, those are what I mean!” - - * * * * * - -_Snugger—“M. le Juge_, I have been fined for letting my dog go about -without a muzzle, and he certainly had one on.” - -_Judge_—“The _agent de police_ says your dog had no muzzle on.” - -_Snugger_—“Indeed, he had one on, sir.” - -_Gendarme_—“Yes, but he was not wearing it on his head.” - -_Snugger_—“The regulations do not specify _where_ a dog is to wear his -muzzle—and so, to let the beast get his breath, I tied the muzzle to his -tail.” - -_Judge_—“Five francs fine. Next case!” - - * * * * * - -Snobs has bought a steam-engine, and was showing it to his friend -Snugger yesterday. - -“How many horse-power is that machine?” asked Snugger. - -“Horse-power!” exclaimed Snobs, “don’t you see it goes by steam?” - - * * * * * - -Nothing is more uncomfortable for a woman who has to keep a secret than -to find no one who is curious about it. - - * * * * * - -The human being who can pass a hoarding marked “Wet Paint,” without -putting his finger on it to feel if the paint really is wet, possesses -strength of will and self-control enough to rule a kingdom. - - * * * * * - -A lady having run against the freshly painted rail of a bridge, and -carried off a considerable quantity of the paint on her dress, the -bridge-keeper said to her consolingly,— - -“Never mind, ma’am, they’re going to paint it again to-morrow, any way!” - - - - - _FARMER GERRIT’S VISIT TO AMSTERDAM._ - - - Gerrit Meeuwsen and his son Gijs, living in the depths of the country, - in the Betuwe district (the old Batavian Island, between the Rhine and - the Waal), have made up their minds—after long deliberation—for an - expedition by rail to the Amsterdam kermis. As they have never left - home before, preparations are made which suggest an Arctic voyage, and - they take a solemn farewell of their friends and relations. The - railway station is safely reached, after a drive of many miles; and - Gerrit severs the last link, so to speak, by sending back Jan—the - farm-man—with the trap. - -“G’morning,” said father and son, at once. - -“Good-morning, friends,” replied the station clerk, who was seated at a -table doing sums. - -Meeuwsen took off his great woollen gloves, hauled out his double-cased -watch, and said, “Might it be about time for the railway to come?” - -“Don’t know,” answered Gijs, who thought that his father was asking the -question of him. - -The clerk, a good-natured fellow, understanding that the question was -addressed to him, replied, “Oh! I suppose you mean the _train_. Yes, -that will be coming by very soon,—perhaps in thirteen, or fourteen, or -fifteen minutes. Where do you want to go?” - -“To Amsterdam,” replied Meeuwsen. - -“Amsterdam—third-class?” asked the clerk. - -“Third-class, what’s that?” returned Gerrit. - -“Three classes, you know, my good friend,” the clerk explained; “first, -second, and third. The first is the dearest, the second middling, and -the third the cheapest.” - -“Then the third won’t do for us, nor the second neither,” said Gerrit. -“I always sit in the first seat at church in our village, for I be -churchwarden.”[16] - -“First-class?” asked the clerk, in surprise, “but—do you know——” - -“Never you mind; I want first-class, do you hear?” said Gerrit. - -“Well, it’s all the same to me,” said the clerk, rising. He went to the -place where he kept the tickets, stamped two, and received the rich -Betuwers money. - -“Gracious! there’s the train!” cried the clerk, whose calculation of -fifteen minutes had been rather too liberal. “Will you come out, -please?” - -Gerrit and Gijs, the latter carrying the carpet-bag, rushed out on to -the platform, followed by the clerk. The approaching train seemed to the -travellers to grow longer the more they looked at it, and, when it -stopped, both father and son involuntarily took a step backwards. - -Neither Gerrit nor Gijs knew exactly what happened to them next; but -when they got back all their senses,—for the wind was blowing freshly in -their faces,—they saw themselves in a carriage containing, besides -themselves, two other passengers, and which allowed free passage to the -wind on all sides. - -“Bad weather for the money,” grumbled Gerrit. - -“Why! come and sit over here,” cried one of their fellow-travellers, -apparently a Jew, who was sitting on the opposite side of the carriage, -with his back to the engine. “Sit here, on the first seat; you will be -frozen to death over there.” - -Gerrit looked at his son, and then both stumbled along the shaking -carriage to the other end, and occupied the end seats. - -“That’s a difference!” said Gijs, whose skin felt like that of a plucked -chicken. - -“Well, this does shake!” said Meeuwsen. “No!—that third-class is enough -to kill one!” - -Nathan, who was reading a book, which, as Gerrit could see, seemed to -begin at the end and go backwards, did not speak again. The second -travelling-companion had turned up the collar of his thick overcoat and -was snoring; and our two gentlemen from Betuwe, having nothing to say to -each other, were silent, and thought—what, no one ever will know. - -After a few minutes’ run, a conductor appeared—whence, neither Gerrit -nor Gijs could understand—and asked them, “Where for, gentlemen?” - -“_Gentlemen!_” exclaimed Gerrit, with fine scorn, “_that_ won’t go down -with us!” - -“Farmers, then!” said the conductor, “where for?” - -Meeuwsen thought the fellow had no manners, and said, “I and my son for -Amsterdam.” - -“Show your tickets, please,” said the conductor. - -Meeuwsen began to search for them.... “I’d put them away so carefully,” -he remarked, while turning out all his pockets. - -“Well, never mind,” resumed the conductor (he was very cold, and wanted -to get back to his warm corner in the closed compartment), “you can show -me them presently.” - -“Very good,” replied Gerrit, who began to think the man was not so bad -after all. - -The conductor disappeared again, in the same mysterious fashion, and -Gerrit suddenly remembered that he had put away the tickets inside his -watch-case. - -At every station, when the whistle of the engine was heard, Gijs was -seized with consternation, thinking that a child or some other living -creature had been run over. Every time the train stopped, the sons of -Batavia prepared to alight, and each time they were politely stopped by -Nathan, who told them they might just make their minds easy, for they -had not got there yet. Gijs thereupon came to the conclusion that the -journey would not be over so soon as the schoolmaster had led them to -suppose. - -At length, after they had left the last of the intermediate stations -behind, the mysterious conductor appeared once more, and asked for the -tickets; and Gerrit, who had kept them carefully in his hand, under his -woollen glove, produced them, and gave them up. - -“First-class!” said the conductor. “Why, man, you’ve certainly had the -best for your money!” - -“Hi?” said Meeuwsen, who could not understand what the fellow meant. - -“Stupid bumpkins!” muttered the conductor in an undertone, happily -inaudible to the Meeuwsens, and left the carriage with a loud -“Amsterdam, gentlemen!” The train now stopped for good. Every one got -out, and there was such a row that Gerrit and his son could not -understand what was going on, and stood staring about them quite dazed. - -People, carriages, cabs, omnibuses, trunks, drivers with brandished -whips, crying, “This way, sir!—Hotel this!—Hotel that!—just off!” There -was such a swarming and confusion that our travellers only regained -their full consciousness when they found themselves sitting in an -omnibus, packed, knee to knee, like herrings in a barrel,—and, probably, -dreaming—at least, so they thought. - -“Where to, sir?” asked the conductor of the omnibus, in a green coat -trimmed with silver lace, of the person sitting next the door. - -“The Dam,” was the answer. “Botermarkt,” said another passenger. “Rokin, -No. 11,” said another; and another followed with “The Mint.” - -“Sir?” said the inquisitive man, addressing Gijs. - -“I?” asked Gijs, staring wildly; “to the Fair, isn’t it, father?” - -All the passengers laughed, except three or four who were in a hurry to -get to the Exchange. - -“Be’st mad, I think, boy,” said Gerrit, grinning. “No, mate,” he went -on, addressing the conductor, “to a lodging.” - -“Which hotel?” was then the question. “First, second, third, fourth, -fifth class? Rondeel, Doelen, Munt—or do you want to go to the Nes?”[17] - -Whether Gerrit was thinking of the third-class carriage in which he had -been sitting with Gijs, and contrasting it with the imaginary -first-class where he found a place by the side of Nathan, we do not -know; but it is certain that he shivered at the idea of a fifth-class, -and had his answer ready at once— - -“First-class, man! First-class!” - -“_Vieux Doelen!_” cried the conductor, with a smile and a furtive wink -at the passenger next the door. - -The omnibus stopped, and Gerrit and Gijs were beckoned to come out. How -they ever got through the double row of knees is quite incomprehensible; -and twice did the heels of Gijs’ heavy boots come unpleasantly in -contact with corns, whose proprietors, therefore, unkindly addressed him -as “Clumsy lout!” and “Dumb ass!” - -“How much is it?” asked Gerrit. - -The conductor gave a look round, and then said, under his breath— - -“Only ten stivers[18] each, sir. I can’t ask you for more.” - -Meeuwsen gave him a florin, whereupon he asked whether the gentleman -couldn’t spare him a trifle for himself! - -This question was answered by the good-natured farmer thrusting a -_kwartje_[19] into his hand; and the unscrupulous rascal drove away, -laughing in his sleeve. - -Gerrit, and Gijs with the carpet-bag on his back, stared for a long time -at the fine house, with the gilt letters on the front; and at length -ventured to go up the steps, though they could not make up their minds -to venture in. - -“What do you want?” politely asked a handsome young gentleman, in a -snow-white waistcoat and a beautiful black jacket, who came out of the -broad hall and walked up to them. - -“Lodgings,” answered Gerrit. - -“For yourself?” asked the young gentleman, who, seen at close quarters, -seemed older than his jacket would have led one to suppose. - -“I and my son Gijs,” said Gerrit. - -“You?” again asked the young gentleman. - -“Is that so hard to understand?” asked the farmer. “Are there no -lodgings here? Can we get them, or can’t we?” - -The young gentleman walked away, and stopped to speak to another young -gentleman like unto himself, who met him in the corridor. Soon after two -more arrived, one of them with a napkin over his arm, and all the four -began to laugh immoderately; so that Gerrit began to be tired of -waiting, and, approaching the group, said, with some violence, “Now, -what is it to be? Are we to get rooms, or are we not?” The young -gentlemen continued to giggle, but suddenly stopped, and scattered with -surprising rapidity, for a dignified elderly person entered the -vestibule, and asked what was the matter here. Whereupon Gerrit -expounded to him that he had asked, in a straightforward and downright -way, for lodgings; that he did not know what the young gentlemen were up -to; that he had come with his son to attend the fair; that he had no -mind to be what-you-may-call-ummed and made a fool of by those young -gentlemen; and that he asked, once more, Could he, or could he not? - -The respectable gentleman took a good look at Gerrit and Gijs—the latter -was still outside the door with the carpet-bag—for some moments; but the -open honest face, and generally prosperous appearance of the farmer, -reassured him as to the probability of their being good customers. He -then laid his forefinger against his nose, and called out to one of the -young gentlemen,— - -“No. 71 and 72, Karel. _Allons!_” - -Karel came. Gerrit beckoned Gijs to come in. Gijs also came. - -“Take the gentleman’s luggage,” said the proprietor of the hotel to -Karel, pointing to the carpet-bag, which Gijs still carried over his -shoulder. - -“Oh, no! thank you,” said Gijs, as the young gentleman Karel went about -to relieve him of his load. Karel, however, did not leave go. The -proprietor was present; and, in spite of Gijs’ asseverations that he was -far too kind, he seized the bag and flew up the broad staircase like a -jumping rabbit. - -“If you will follow, gentlemen,” said the proprietor, “the _garçon_ will -show you your rooms.” Gerrit, putting up, for the sake of peace, with -the title of gentleman, followed the flying _garçon_, and Gijs followed -his father. - -“Where are we going to?” cried the stout farmer, to whom climbing of -stairs was an unaccustomed exercise. - -“To No. 71 and 72,” said the _garçon_. - -“I don’t care what number it is—number thousand, if you like—but I -didn’t come here to climb up a tower!” - -“We shall be there directly,” said Karel, still flying on ahead. - -“Go on, then!” said Gerrit, taking courage; and on they went again, up -stairs and more stairs—there was no end to it. - -“Are we not there yet?” sighed Meeuwsen, when Gijs had counted the -forty-fifth flight of steps, and they had come to an arched doorway. - -“This way round!” cried Karel, and flew on, still higher. - -“No! that’s too much; I give it up!” cried Gerrit, holding fast to the -banisters. “It’s enough to drive a man crazy! I’ll go no farther.” - -“Only a few more,” said Karel persuasively. At last, when Gijs had -counted sixty-three, the two, panting and gasping, reached their -goal—Nos. 71 and 72. - -“_Ici_,” said Karel, throwing open both doors almost at the same moment. - -“_Ici_ or no _ici_” muttered the farmer, “what I say is that no decent -man can be expected to do it!” - -“This is your room,” said Karel, pointing to No. 72, as he saw that Gijs -was about to follow his father into No. 71. - -“I?” ejaculated Gijs. - -“_S’il vous plaît_” said the waiter, and flinging the carpet-bag into -No. 71, he left the rooms, stood still in the passage between the two -apartments, and looking at father and son by turns, went on, “Any more -orders? Will the gentlemen dine at the _table d’hôte_, at half-past -four?” - -Gijs understood not a single word of this; and Gerrit, who likewise did -not grasp the subtleties of the situation, answered shortly, “No,” being -mortally afraid of having to do any more climbing. - -Karel having had enough of this exalted society, uttered no further -questions or remarks, slammed both doors, reached the ground floor by -sliding down the banisters, and left the father and son, each in his own -room, to their respective meditations. - -The well-furnished rooms were only divided from one another by a thin -wooden partition, and their windows afforded a delightful view, to wit, -a red-tiled roof, from which arose a tall black chimney. - -Gijs looked round, like a cat in a strange warehouse, and did not think -Amsterdam so very beautiful after all. - -“Boy! where are you?” shouted Gerrit. “What are we to do now? Just come -here!” - -“Can I do that, father?” roared Gijs, in a voice that could easily have -been heard in the street. - -“Of course!” cried Gerrit. - -Gijs went on tiptoe to his door, and, speeding as though death were at -his heels, out of No. 72 and into No. 71. - -“Look here, boy!” said Gerrit, when his son was safely inside, “here we -sit, and I’m so hungry that I can’t see straight.” - -“So am I,” asseverated Gijs. - -“Then you ought to call,” said his father, “and we might order -something.” - -Gijs muttered something about “so strange,” and “if father were to do it -himself,”—but, like a dutiful son, he went to the stairs, and -shouted—very much as he was accustomed at home to call the calves to -their food—“_Huup! huup! huup!_” - -No one came. At last a door opened, and an old gentleman in hat and -greatcoat came out, and passed Gijs. - -“Oh!” said Gijs, his shyness giving way before his own hunger and his -father’s orders, “would you be so kind as to order something to eat for -us!” - -“Pull the bell, you young donkey!” was the polite reply. The donkey -departed without a word, and, after some searching, Father Meeuwsen -found a rope hanging in No. 71, at which he pulled,—and lo! they heard a -bell ring. A minute later Karel was again standing before them. - -“You must bring us something to eat,” said the farmer, who now began to -understand that the young man was a waiter. - -“_Déjeuner à la fourchette?_” asked Karel. - -“Don’t know those things,” replied Gerrit. “I’ve never eaten -_desernages_, nor _forzettes_ either. Just bring us something, my lad,—I -don’t much care what, so long as we can get something inside us.” - -Flop went the door again; and five minutes later there arrived at No. 71 -some strange substances of whose nature Gerrit and Gijs had not the -remotest idea. They began, however, to try and to taste, and though they -could scarcely get the things down their throats, they were messed up so -queerly with sweet stuff and spice, they managed to satisfy their -appetites somehow. - -“I’ve had enough,” said Gerrit at last. - -“So have I,” sighed Gijs, and they rose from table,—to go to the kermis. - -We will not relate in detail how Gerrit and Gijs climbed downstairs -again, went out at the front door, and announced that they would come -back again in the evening; how they were besieged by beggars, -shoeblacks, and Jews selling lottery tickets,—nearly all of whom the -good-natured farmer succeeded in satisfying; how they were directed from -one part of the town to another, and back again, in order to reach the -fair; how and when they got there they found booths, just like those in -their own village, but much bigger and finer ones. We will not record -how much Gerrit paid for the monster cake which he wished to take home -to Griet, and which bore the inscription, in sugar letters, “A Fairing -for You;” how Gijs was cheated in the purchase of a cup and saucer for -Mijntje; how they, furthermore, bought ginger-bread, almonds, and who -knows what besides, so that their pockets stood out like hard lumps, and -they were nearly fainting under the weight of them. They visited the -circus, but were not edified; and when, finally, the great trick rider -“_Meseu_ Blanus,” after two sudden changes of costume, appeared in -flesh-coloured tights, and walked about blowing a trumpet, Gerrit could -stand it no longer, and seizing his son by the arm, he shouted, “That -beats all! so it does! come, boy, come! come!” and hurried him out. When -they had struggled out into the crowd again, Gerrit said that they had -had their fill of that sort of thing, and more; and Gijs remarked that -it was low. They did not attempt to see any of the other shows, and -Gerrit unmercifully dragged Gijs past “The Mirror of Mystery,” where, as -the man at the door said, “The girl can see her lover, and the young man -his girl,—all for a _dubbeltje_! Great American Magic Mirror of -Mystery!” Gijs would have liked a peep at his Mijntje, but Gerrit was -firm. - -Having partaken, by way of refreshment, of hot wafers and punch,—a -repast which Gijs liked well enough, but his father considered “sweet, -but nothing to stay your stomach on,”—they at last, after many -wanderings, found their way back to the hotel. The nimble rabbit, Mr -Karel, was again to the fore. In the twinkling of an eye he had lit a -candle, and flew up the stairs, requesting the wearied rustics, -unaccustomed to the hard walking of the streets, to follow him, _s’il -vous plaît_. - -Gerrit and Gijs followed—yes! and in time they reached the top, but felt -just as if a thousand smiths were hammering away in their bones. - -“Do the gentlemen wish _souper_?” asked Karel, who by this time had lit -candles in each of the two rooms. - -“Eat soup now!” said Gerrit, “get away with you! I’m fair filled up with -those wafer-cakes!” - -“Put boots outside door—when d’you-want-to-be-called?” asked Karel. - -“I’m going away to-morrow morning by the first train,” said Gerrit. - -“Then you’ll want a _vigilante_?” - -“Go to the ... woodpile!” cried Gerrit, “with all your foreign talk.” - -“Good-night, gentlemen!” said Karel. - -The doors were shut, and the gentlemen were left alone. Now began a -conversation between the two—carried on in genuine rustic growls, and -yet as softly as if they were afraid of waking “Mother my wife.” A few -minutes later Gijs retired, with a new blue wadded night-cap, and a -“good-night, dad,” to No. 72. - -Gerrit had at once blown out the wax candles in No. 71. “That’s just -sinful waste,” he said; and Gijs, on entering No. 72, followed his -father’s example. - -They were not long in undressing by moonlight. Gijs put on the -night-cap, and stepped into the soft bed. What a thing that was!—soft as -pap!... Never knew such a thing before.... He lay listening.... Every -moment he heard something ... some one walking about ... groping among -the furniture ... at last speaking. At last, he could stand it no -longer—he sat up and stared uneasily about. He thought he could -plainly ... hear ... something ... at ... the ... door. Seemed as if ... -you ... could ... see ... the ... handle ... turning.... The -perspiration broke out all over him ... still he saw it ... plainly ... -and, when the door was really opened, he uttered a yell, but slowly -recovered himself on seeing that it was his father. - -“Can’t rest on _that_ thing,” said Gerrit, as he came in, meaning the -bed, which he found much too soft. “No, Gijs, I’ll just come and lie -here on the boards.” - -“I’ll do that too,” said Gijs, stepping out of bed, and then he lay down -on the floor beside his father—each with a pea-jacket rolled up for a -pillow—“good-night! pleasant dreams.” - -Whether the dreams were, in point of fact, pleasant may be doubted, for -they formed a first-class raree-show, composed of bare legs and -wafer-cakes, guns and horses, omnibuses, and the climbing of towers, in -wild confusion. Certain it is, however, that the Meeuwsens, father and -son, when they awoke, stared at one another as if they had been -bewitched, and had to think a long time before they could remember where -on earth they were. - - * * * * * - -Well, how did they get home again from the fair?—Gerrit to his Griet, -and Gijs to his Mijn. - -Very well indeed. Physically they were in sad case, but spiritually all -right—which does not always happen on like occasions. The bill which -Karel handed to Gerrit before his departure was alike illegible to him -and to Gijs. Perhaps no one but the hotel-proprietor and the head-waiter -could ever have deciphered it—only the total was clear: 16f. -80—accurately reckoned. Gerrit thought, but said nothing; paid; started, -when he was told that a tip was expected of him, over and above the -bill, but paid it; and left the Verdoel by the first omnibus, and -Amsterdam by the first train. - -“That’s over!” said Gerrit, sitting safe and sound once more beside his -Griet in the kitchen. “Once is well enough—but never again! And I had -everything first-class!” - -This was true enough: for on the return journey he had managed to get -into the right compartment of the train—though, to say the truth, he -found it much less comfortable than the other. - -And Gijs? Gijs was as blythe as a foal in the meadow, when he found -himself at home again. When he told Mijn about the circus, and the young -ladies in gilt caps who had sold him wafers, and tried to flirt with -him, she turned as red as fire, and said it was scandalous; but the cup -and saucer, which, contrary to all expectation, had reached home -uninjured, were duly admired by her. And when Gerrit, one fine evening, -had some of the neighbours in to help in the pig-killing, and -entertained them in the kitchen when work was over, the monster cake was -tasted, and Gerrit profited by the opportunity to relate all his -adventures. Then said Brother-in-Law Kresel, that such a thing hadn’t -happened within the memory of man!—and Baas Janssen, that morality was -getting into a frightful state!—and the old Teunis farmer concluded, -“What does a man want on the ice in his clogs?” - - J. J. CREMER. - - - - - _NO SWORD!_ - - -Old Colonel H—— was standing, during one of the summer months, before -the open window, puffing the smoke of his Havannah into the air, with -the feeling of satisfaction produced by a fine day, while his eyes -followed the movements of a young officer, whose elastic figure had -already, at some distance, attracted his superior’s attention. - -Suddenly his face darkened. No one so soon feels his toes trodden on as -an old military man. - -What was that? Were his eyes dazzled by the sunlight? Or could anything -of the sort possibly happen under the eye of the strict commanding -officer of the regiment? Had discipline really died out among the -younger generation of the army? - -No, it was no optical deception. He could see it now, plainly—the -lieutenant, passing there, on the other side of the street, with a -letter in his hand, had _no_ sword on! And it was not nearly four P.M.! - -“Lieutenant!” cried the fire-eater, in a momentary ebullition of -indignation, from the open window; “if I may ask you—one moment!” - -The man addressed immediately turned with a military salute, and -hastened to the Colonel’s rooms, without the slightest presentiment of -the storm about to burst over his head. - -He rang the bell, and the Colonel’s servant opened the door. - -Passing through the hall, he gave a hasty glance at his uniform to see -whether it was all right—and then he discovered his misfortune. -Horrible! He had, in his haste to post a letter, forgotten to buckle on -his sword! - -For one moment he hesitated; he was really frightened, and saw, looming -up in space, all the evil consequences of his mistake, in the form of -all possible reports, with “arrest” at the end of them. - -The Colonel would send a note to the commander of division, who would -endorse and put it into the hands of the captain—and then the fat would -be in the fire with a vengeance! All this passed like a flash of -lightning through the unhappy man’s head, and he looked helplessly -round, as though hoping that some good genius would inspire him with a -way of escape in this sore need. What was he to do? He could not keep -the cantankerous Colonel waiting,—there was nothing for it except to -march valiantly forward into the lion’s den. But luck never forsakes a -lieutenant! - -What is that glittering over there in the umbrella-stand? - -The Colonel’s sword!... He pulls out his purse,—thrusts, with an -eloquent gesture, a guilder into the hand of the Colonel’s man, and -buckles on the sword—all in less time than it takes to tell it. - -A moment later he stands—in correct military attitude, his left hand -held so as to hide the dragon on his sword-hilt from the eagle eye of -his chief—before the old gentleman, who, meanwhile, has been stalking up -and down the room, fretting and fuming. - -“Sir! I must call your attention to——” - -A long pause. - -The Colonel’s glance travels from the sword to the young officer’s -blushing face, and back again to the glittering weapon. - -Then he shakes his head in utter amazement, but recovers himself -speedily, and continues in a low tone: - -“What battalion do you belong to?” - -“The second, Colonel.” - -“Just so. I only wanted to ask you if—if—Major Ij ... has returned from -his leave?” - -“He is not coming back till to-morrow, sir, if I have understood -rightly.” - -[Illustration: - - “IN CORRECT MILITARY ATTITUDE.” -] - -“Ah!—thank you—it had escaped me—thanks.” - -The lieutenant saluted respectfully, left the room with the greatest air -of self-confidence, hastened down the stairs, unbuckled the Colonel’s -sword—put it away noiselessly among the sticks and umbrellas, after -which he hurried away, keeping as close as he could to the wall till he -was out of sight. - -As for the Colonel, he simply could not believe his eyes! Then something -occurred to him. He called his man. - -“Did you let the lieutenant in?” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“Was he wearing a sword when he came in?” - -“Yes, sir,” answered he, with imperturbable calm. - -The Colonel smote his forehead with his open hand. - -The lieutenant’s guilder was well invested. - - “_Humoristisch Album._” - - - - - A STUDENT’S LODGINGS SIXTY YEARS SINCE. - - -The burghers of the university town—at least those whose houses, at the -beginning of the summer vacation, are adorned with cards bearing the -inscription “_Cubicula locanda_”—can, during nine months of the year, be -looked on only to a limited extent as masters in their own dwellings. It -is the student, or the officer, as the case may be, who is established -in the best room, who attracts all the attention of passers by, and the -neighbours over the way,—who sits at the window, is seen to go in and -out at the front door, carries the key, rules, gives orders, receives -his friends and acquaintances, and, in a word, conducts himself as the -principal person, while the owner or lessee of the house is banished to -a back room or some little subterraneous den in the basement. It is to -the best room, then, that we must make our way, though the approach to -it is not an attractive one. Our way lies, first, through a narrow -passage, where we run the risk of stumbling over a doorstep, evidently -placed there with the sole object of teaching children and visitors to -be careful of their steps. Then we have to seek a dark and narrow -stairway, and, having found it, to ascend it. It receives, by day, only -a dim and doubtful light from the basement; by night, it is perfectly -dark, and its worn and slippery steps follow one another at such -strangely unequal intervals, that one is tempted to think the architect -must have been interested in the problem how to pile on one another, in -a given space, a given number of irregular parallelograms in the most -heterogeneous manner possible. When we have succeeded, after having -knocked our heads not more than three or four times against all sorts of -fantastically projecting rafters and angles, in reaching what is -ironically called the _bel étage_, we find ourselves in front of a door -which opens very easily and noiselessly, but can never be closed without -five or six violent thrusts or tugs, according as you are inside or out. -We once more hit our toes against an unexpected doorstep, and at last -enter the first of the two rooms inhabited by _Gerlof Bol, S.S. Theol. -cand_. - -It is evening; the two sash windows, divided by a narrow space of wall, -are hidden behind unpainted shutters, on which, here and there, a -square, worm-eaten, or dirt-stained spot shows where a hasp or bolt has -been, but is no more. These shutters curve outwards, and threaten every -moment to escape from the control of the bars (bent crooked as though -with their weight), and fling themselves in the face of the incautious -person who should venture too near. The walls are covered with a dirty -yellow paper, on which green and blue flowers alternate in diagonal -lines. Now and then, where the paper has been torn, another piece of the -same pattern has been pasted on upside down, probably for the sake of -securing a pleasing variety; while in other cases the damage has not -been repaired, and an earlier wall decoration, in orange and black, is -apparent in patches. On the wall hang the portraits of Van Der Palm and -Borgen[20] in one frame, the lecture list, fastened up with three pins, -and a variety of college notices secured in the same way. Near the door -is a tolerably roomy alcove, containing the occupant’s chief -treasures,—in the first place, his books, which, in so far as they -consist of quartos, octavos, and duodecimos, are ranged on three shelves -against the wall, while the folios stand on the ground in the company of -sundry maps in cases; in the second place, two baskets, one of which is -full of burnt-out clay pipes, the other of foul ditto awaiting their -burning. Item, a closed card-table, bought cheap at a second-hand -dealer’s, which can never stand on more than two legs at the same time; -while the superficies of the once green baize with which it is covered -offers a remarkable assemblage of mathematical figures, such as circles -formed by the setting down of wet punch or wine glasses, ellipses or -squares arising from the dropping of wax, grease, or ink, or the contact -with various objects not previously dusted. Item, an umbrella without a -knob, whose whalebone ribs, for the most part, have either repudiated -all connection with the covering, or shamelessly protrude through it. -Furthermore, a trio of eccentric-looking canes, a couple of broken -German pipes, a little tin box, a small writing-desk heaped with -_dictata_, MS. notes, and dilapidated books; a large reading desk, -holding the _editio princeps_ of the States Bible;[21] and, _last not -least_, as the English say, a small basket containing full, and a large -one with empty, wine bottles. - -The said alcove is provided with a double door, and when the latter is -closed, peculiar skill, or else a lucky conjuncture of circumstances, is -necessary to open it, seeing that the handle usually displays a -remarkable degree of obstinacy, and calmly turns round in one’s hand -unnumbered times without lifting the latch. - -As to the other furniture of the room, the following is an accurate -inventory:— - -1. A small mirror in a polished wooden frame,—the glass consisting of -two sections, each of a different colour. If you see yourself in the -lower half you have a purple countenance, in the upper a green one, and -in either case your features are cruelly distorted; in fact, no one ever -looked into this mirror, either above or below, who did not instantly -look out of it again,—so frightfully ugly does every one find him or -herself, as the case may be. - -2. A mahogany sécretaire, which, though it has lost some of the -convolutions of the carved fretwork finishing it off at the top, is -still, on the whole, tolerably fit for use, and has no other defects -than these, that the lower drawer will not shut, that one of the hinges -of the flap is loose,—necessitating great care in opening and -closing,—and that one of the feet has long ago declined further service -and preferred a horizontal to an upright position,—in spite of which, -however, the article of furniture can be made to stand tolerably steady -if propped up against the wall. On the top stands a bunch of paper -flowers (the landlady’s property), protected by a glass shade, flanked -to right and left by plaster busts of Homer and Cicero, and surrounded -with several teacups, bearing in gilt letters such touching mottoes as -“Many happy returns of the day,” “A trifle—but a token of good-will,” -“Walk on roses,” “A token of respect,” &c. &c. - -3. A white-wood corner cupboard, with a fluted sliding-door, which, if -you go about to open it quietly, refuses to move, whereas if you use -force you push the whole cupboard from its place. Only long experience, -added to unwearying patience, will enable any one to bring to light the -glasses, plates, and knives, or whatever the contents of the receptacle -may be. - -4. A tiled stove, whose top is pointed out as a frequent resting-place -for glasses by a variety of circular stains. Next the stove stands a -wooden tub containing coals, and behind it lie a heap of peats and a few -blocks of wood, also a poker and tongs. The latter cannot be handled -without pinching the skin of one’s forefinger, and the legs slip across -each other as soon as one tries to pick up anything with them. - -5. An arm-chair, and six chairs with plush seats, showing their stuffing -through numerous wounds,—all of them venerable invalids, full of -infirmities, and especially weak in the back. - -6. A square table, with flaps which can be turned up; its upper surface -painted green with white spots, and the edges reddish-brown. In the -middle of this table we see a lamp and two black-japanned candlesticks -with tallow candles in them; further, a broken pair of snuffers, a -wooden tobacco-box, a brazier, and an inkstand with other writing -materials; and round it are seated several students, all members of the -“rhetorical chamber”[22] entitled, “The Thirsty Pleiades.” - - J. VAN LENNEP. - _The Vicissitudes of Klaasje Zevenster_ (1866). - - - - - _A COLONIAL PRIZE-GIVING._ - - -“Another day on the rack!” Heer Doornik had said that morning to his -wife,—not however in so tragic a manner as the tenor of the ejaculation -would seem to indicate, as he was just then busy pulling on a -particularly intractable boot. - -“Is your speech ready?” asked Mevrouw Doornik, in the act of fastening -his necktie for him. - -“Yes, my address is prepared,” he replied, solemnly. - -You must know, reader, that Doornik had been, in his young days, a -member of a “rhetorical chamber” at Dinxperlo or Buren, I do not exactly -remember which, and had reaped harvests of laurels at various -lectures—laurels offered to him along with cups of muddy chocolate and -_cadetjes_ with cream cheese. - -This circumstance had stood in his way all his life. The man, whose -manifest destiny was to become a schoolmaster, believed himself a second -Mirabeau. He would have liked to become a popular orator, or a member of -the Second Chamber, or failing that at least a minister. But his ideals -had gone the way of the _cadetjes_ and the chocolate, they had vanished -into nothingness; the future Mirabeau became, first, a pupil in a -training-college, then third, and then second master; and, at last, with -much labour, he gained his head-mastership. - -“I have at last this consolation, that I am to-day once more placed in a -position to show the public what the art of oratory is.” - -This last sentence was uttered with such an elevation of his voice, that -his wife thought it necessary to damp his enthusiasm a little. - -“I’m afraid the pine-apple tartlets are burnt,” she said, “and the -cabinet-pudding, too, is not as it should be.” - -But her husband did not hear her. In one hand he had a hair-brush and in -the other a comb, and with these objects he went through all sorts of -evolutions, his eyes fixed on the mirror, and his long figure most -eccentrically contorted. His wife left him alone; she was well -acquainted with this manœuvre, and twenty years’ experience of married -life had taught her not to disturb her husband when seized by -inspirations. - -The Indies are not the place for unappreciated genius; all that they -could give the great man (except a good salary and an easy life, which, -of course, did not count) was the chairmanship of a few committees, and -a place in the church council and other assemblies, which got through -more talking than business. Besides this, he was a Freemason, and thus -at last he had the satisfaction of being able to speak “in public,” -taking one week with another, at least once a week. - -The day of the school examination was therefore, in his opinion, -especially suited to this purpose, and he had not practised so long for -nothing. His speech was going to be brilliant, his eloquence -indescribable, his gestures and facial expression would do the rest. It -was only a pity that Hendriks (the second master) had come to worry him, -for, above all things, he needed quiet in those days when he was going -to show the public what good speaking is. - -At last the proceedings were to begin. - -The children sang one or two songs very prettily, and the effect would -have been exceedingly good, had not the head-master been of opinion that -his voice—not a bad one, but just now fairly hoarse with -nervousness—ought to be heard above all the rest. - -Then the examination proper began, and the usual incidents took place. -Great exhibitions of dumbness on the part of the girls, fearful -embarrassment on that of the boys, extreme exasperation among the -masters, suppressed giggling among the ladies of the audience, and -unnaturally solemn faces among the members of the school committee, who -had evidently made up their minds to remain serious whatever might -happen. - -[Illustration: - - “IN ONE HAND A HAIR-BRUSH, IN THE OTHER A COMB.” -] - -In the first-class sat eight boys, between the ages of twelve and -fifteen. But it soon became apparent that six of the eight were mere lay -figures; the questions were addressed to all, but the answers, -evidently, expected from Anton van Duijn and William Ochtenraat only. - -They represented two distinct types, as they sat there side by side. -William had a fresh, rosy face, large blue eyes, and a white forehead, -crowned with blonde curls,—he was a prize specimen of a Dutch boy. -Anton, with his dark hair and jet-black eyes, clear-cut brown face, and -tall slight figure, was a handsome _sinjo_; for he had inherited his -looks more from his Creole mother than his Dutch father. - -Mevrouw Ochtenraat had spoken truth when she assured Mevrouw van Duijn -just now that it gave her much pleasure to see how clever and -hard-working Anton was. - -To-day, however, it seemed as though Anton did not know so much more -than his schoolfellow. Was it the fault of the questions put by the -master, who seemed still more agitated than common, and became so -amazingly tragic in his simplest movements and gestures that he seemed -to be reciting one of Racine’s tragedies rather than conducting a school -examination? - -Or was it the way the master knitted his brows and rolled his eyes, -wriggled and writhed and stretched himself, that confused Anton? - -Or could it have been the little piece of paper that had just been put -into his hand, and on which Heer Hendriks had written in pencil, “Keep -cool, don’t let them make you lose your head!”—could that have been the -reason why Anton every now and then failed to answer a question? - -William Ochtenraat, on the other hand, seemed in particularly good -spirits that morning. Again and again the master managed to bring him -round to one or other of the few subjects in which he was at home. He -made him tell the story of Alexander the Great’s horse, and of the -faithful hound who died on the grave of William the Silent, and, -finally, of the turf-boat by means of which Breda was surprised. -William’s eyes sparkled as he told of Bucephalus; and his mother would -have liked to kiss him when he nearly choked over William of Orange’s -dog; and when he laughed over the discomfiture of the Spaniards, the -whole room laughed with him. - -Meanwhile, poor Anton became more and more uneasy; he no longer nodded -encouragingly to his mother, as he had done at first, but his anxious -looks sought Heer Hendriks, who was quite as pale as he. - -The arithmetic began. Here dogs, horses, and jokes were alike out of -place; the thing, therefore, was to ask the Governor’s son as few -questions as possible. - -“Now I shall be all right!” thought Anton; for this was the subject in -which he most excelled. But even now things continued to go wrong; time -after time he found he could not answer, and something began to glitter -in his eyes which ought to have warned Heer Doornik. - -Again the master put a question. And the boy cried, pale with that -terrible bluish paleness one only sees where there is coloured blood,—“I -can’t answer that question, sir; and you know I can’t, because it’s not -on what I’ve learned.” - -“But perhaps one of the other boys can,—William, for instance?” asked -Hendriks. - -“Why, no,” cried Willie, “I never heard of it.” - -Heer Doornik—in spite of his fondness for speeches in general—was far -from pleased with this speech; he understood how every one must feel -that there was something behind this, and shortly afterwards brought the -examination to a somewhat precipitate close by giving his wife the sign -to order up the refreshments. - -Whoever else may have taken bread and butter, or pine-apple -tart,—whoever else was regaled with the cabinet-pudding,—neither Anton -nor his mother tasted them. - -“Don’t be uneasy, madam,” said the Governor, to the widow, as he called -one of the boys to bring her a glass of wine and water, seeing that she -trembled in every limb. “Don’t be uneasy, Anton is sure to get the -prize.” - -The examination was over, the bread and butter and cakes had -disappeared, the scholars having displayed in their extermination a far -greater zeal and endurance than in the ordeal of answering questions. -Now came the distribution of prizes, and—the Speech! - -Many a time had people seen Heer Doornik nervous, and heard him get -entangled in his sentences, but the display he made to-day was -absolutely unprecedented. - -The oration lasted fully a quarter of an hour, and it was not the heat -alone which made the ladies look so flushed and uncomfortable. - -Some new-comers to the place were seriously alarmed lest the man should -break a blood-vessel, or dislocate his left arm,—which came in for the -hardest of the work,—or lose his balance in some of his sudden -evolutions; the children sat staring at him open-mouthed, the gentlemen -nudged one another, the ladies effaced themselves more and more behind -their colossal fans. Mevrouw Doornik, alone, sat with her hands folded -in her lap, gazing in silent admiration at the man of her choice. - -The Widow Van Duijn, too, was listening in the greatest excitement, till -she felt he was going beyond her comprehension altogether; and Anton -stood, never taking his burning eyes from the master’s face, waiting for -his sentence. - -It came at last, after many a long circuit. Considering this, and -weighing that, and giving its due prominence to this circumstance, and -noticing why, and not forgetting how the two boys in the first-class, -who alone had any claim to the prize, had learned what they had learned, -and answered as they had answered, he thought he was acting in harmony -with the esteemed head of the government, and all the gentlemen and -ladies who had honoured the school with their presence, by handing the -first prize herewith to the most industrious and highly gifted -pupil—William Ochtenraat! - -Therewith he handed the boy a handsomely bound book, with a gesture so -powerful, so violent a swaying of his whole person, that one was -reminded of Samson at the moment when he seized the pillars of the -temple. - -There was a sudden stillness in the spacious school building. The master -looked at the Governor. The latter let his glance rest on William, who, -more amazed than delighted, looked first at the glittering volume, and -then at the deathly pale boy who sat next him, motionless, with clenched -fists and set teeth. - -Already Heer Doornik, mopping his face all the time with his -handkerchief, was approaching the prize-winner to offer his -congratulations,—already there were sounds of sniffling and rustling, -caused by ladies and gentlemen rising to congratulate the parents, when -Heer Ochtenraat slowly rose in his place, and, with a quiet gesture of -his delicate white hand, asked for a hearing. - -Once more there was silence as of death. - -“William,” said the Governor, in his clear, resonant voice, “William, -tell me honestly, have you earned that prize?” - -One moment the boy hesitated, with a glance at the book. - -“No, papa!” - -“Well, my boy, give the book to the one who has earned it.” - -Without stopping to think for one moment, the boy went up to Anton van -Duijn, and put the book into his hand. - -It needs a good deal to excite an East Indian audience, but when Heer -Hendriks, with a pale face, and a suspicious look of moisture about his -eyes, made his way forward, wrung Anton’s hand, and cried aloud, -“Hurrah! three cheers for the Governor,” the universal enthusiasm found -vent in long and loud cheering. Heer Ochtenraat immediately rose to go; -he looked at the head-master coldly and sternly, and passed him without -a word. - - ANNIE FOORE. - - - - - _HOW MATHIS KNOUPS TURNED “LIBERAL” AND THEN “CATHOLIC” AGAIN._ - - -Every one in Limburg who is not “Catholic” is “liberal”—that is an -established fact. There may be a few Protestants here and there; but -these are _gueux_, interlopers, mostly from the direction of -Hertogenbosch, and therefore Hollanders,[23] who have accidentally come -into the country at one time or another. _Gueux_ means one who has -fallen away from the Roman Catholic faith, and therefore from -Christianity. Also, among other rarities, one finds here and there a few -Jews; but they, of course, do not count. A “liberal” is one who is not -always and altogether of the same opinion as the parish priest and his -_Kapelaan_ (curate)—outside church matters, that is to say, for if he -were to differ from their reverences on any point of doctrine, he would -be no liberal, but a heretic. Also that person is a liberal who, for -instance, may, on occasion, give his opinion of a sermon thus,—“Oh! yes, -they”—_i.e._, the clergy—“must find something to talk about, I suppose.” -Or likewise he who, instead of going regularly to high mass, contents -himself, on Sundays and festivals, with a “snap-mass,”—a little, short -service; or he who dares to declare, with a smile, that he cannot think -how all the fast-days came into existence. There are indeed even a few, -but only a few, and those only to be found in towns, who recognise no -fast-days at all, entirely godless and irreligious people, who never go -to church, and do not even attend confession at Easter. Such people as -those are worse than any liberals or heretics,—they are, in one word, -_bad_. - -Thus, whoever is not a liberal is a Catholic; but there are _Catholics_, -and _good Catholics_. A Catholic is any man who faithfully performs his -religious duties; who would not, for any money, presume to differ in -opinion from the parish priest, and never asks whence that gentleman -gets the text of his sermons, or how the church fasts originated. But -any one who, in addition to all this, also walks in procession with a -lighted torch or leads the prayers as master of the confraternity of St -Joseph or St Rochus, who duly informs the villagers whom the priest -would like elected into the parish council, who comes to the Holy -Communion at least once a month, and, in the tavern, of an evening, can -describe all liberals, gueux, freemasons, and all such like rabble, in -their true colours, that man is a good _Catholic_. - -Mathis Knoups, master-carpenter, and landlord of the “Sun” at Haffert, -did not belong to this category; he was a Catholic _tout court_. He -went to high mass on Sundays, and four times in the year to -confession. This, he said, was doing no more than his duty; and, for -the rest, he had no time to take any further trouble about the church -or religion,—every man must know what he is about, and he had to think -of his children.... There were plenty of other men to carry torches in -the procession,—fast-days had always existed, and did not seem to have -made people leaner or less healthy,—and he was willing to take for -granted that what M. le Curé said in his sermons was true, provided he -were not obliged to listen to them. Also, he was quite ready to vote -for Jan, Piet, or Klaas, just as M. le Curé pleased,—he had no quarrel -with any of the three, and so it was all the same to him. - -This was Knoups’ way of reasoning, when the question was discussed by -the guests who came to take their evening glass of beer at the “Sun.” On -such occasions, the surveyor Hommels, well known in the town for a -“great liberal,” would usually answer, “Yes, yes, you village people let -yourselves be finely humbugged and led by the nose!” - -“Oh! Lord!” Knoups would then retort, “you have been bitten by that -dog too!” And then, with a smile of complete assurance and -self-satisfaction, he would add, “One has to keep one’s soul clean, -you see!” Whereupon the ex-burgomaster Kormann would signify his -approval in the words,— - -“Very good, Master Knoups! the man who does not need that, is not called -on to take any trouble about it!” - -“Then don’t let him trouble himself with my affairs,” answered Knoups. - -Master Knoups’ inn was about twenty minutes’ walk from the little town, -at the point where the “grintweg” leading to Haffert branches off from -the high-road. Among the other advantages of this situation was a -toll-gate, which was farmed by Mathis. What Limburg carter would not -willingly turn in for a half-pint of beer or a dram, at the place where -he has to stop and pay “barrière”? Thus the “Sun” was always full of -“coming and going folk.” - -Knoups let his wife attend to the taproom and the toll-gate; he himself -was all day long in his workshop, when not busy on his bit of land. -Well, Geutruu (Gertrude) was a handy woman, who helped him to provide -for the children, had a pleasant word for every one,—if there was a cent -to be earned anyhow,—but who let no one steal the cheese off her bread. - -[Illustration: - - “M. LE CURÉ.” -] - -In the evening there assembled at the “Sun” the “permanent company”—the -ex-burgomaster Kormann of Haffert, the surveyor Hommels, Spinwek the -baker, and one or two other gentlemen from the town, who would sit -playing at cards, sometimes till eleven, and frequently asked the -landlord to take a hand. - -Besides the field, the carpenter’s trade, the toll-gate, and the usual -custom of the inn, there was another great annual source of income, the -Haffert kermis (fair) at St Rochustide in August, when the burghers with -their wives and daughters, and the young men from the city, streamed to -the village for three days following. And the man who did not put up at -the “Sun” had not been at the Haffert kermis. - -If on these occasions Knoups did not, taking one day with another, tap -his six casks of beer per day, he had every reason to shake his head, -pass his thumb over his forefinger as though he had been counting money, -drop his under-lip, and sigh: - -“It’s bad times with people, ... they’re short of money.” - -“Knoups,” Hommels had sometimes said to him, “you ought to have -dance-music at St Rochus. Then you might tap ten casks in a day, or even -twelve.” - -Knoups looked serious, pulled somewhat harder at his pipe, considered -for a moment, and replied: - -“Thirty casks! ... it would be a good deal.” - -Next year, having used up twenty casks in the three days, he said to -Geutruu: - -“Wife, we must have the dancing next year.” - -“You know best, I suppose,” said Geutruu; “every cask counts. But what -will the Pastoor say?” - -Whereto Knoups replied: - -“Well, every one ought to know what he’s about, and I have to think of -the children.” - -[Illustration: - - “THEIR EVENING GLASS OF BEER AT THE ‘SUN.’” -] - -Next year there was music and dancing at the “Sun,” and some forty-two -casks of beer were tapped. - -Knoups and Geutruu laughed in their sleeves. - -All the same, it had been a frightful moment for them, when they sat -side by side at early mass, and the Curé had preached against dancing, -and hinted at the risks run as regards the next world by those who took -part in such amusements. Geutruu did not know where to hide her head for -shame, and kept bending lower and lower over her prayer-book. Mathis -cast a furious glance at the preacher, but the latter stared at the -couple till the whole congregation had turned their eyes in their -direction; and Mathis himself at last, fiery red at one moment and -deadly pale the next, cast down his eyes and bowed his head. - -But now that he and Geutruu were home again, and counting the Brabant -and Prussian cents—the groschen, half-francs, and _couranten_—which went -to make up the payment for forty-two casks of beer, he exploded with -laughter, and said, pointing to the money: - -“Geutruu, the Curé may give us another sermon for that.” - -Well, the people from the town had never troubled their heads about the -Curé of Haffert’s preaching, and the peasants said, “If the burghers -dance, why should we keep away?” - -When All Saints’ Day came, Mathis and Geutruu went to confession as -usual. - -“If he speaks about the dancing, we’ll say that we don’t know yet what -we’re going to do next year,” said Mathis at the church door. - -However, it was not so easy to get absolution. The Curé was terribly -angry, and the confession lasted more than half-an-hour; however, for -this once, his reverence at last showed himself willing to lean to the -side of mercy. - -“But,” he added, “if you let the devil loose in my parish again next -year, I can do nothing more for you.” - -[Illustration: - - “THE CURÉ MAY GIVE US ANOTHER SERMON FOR THAT.” -] - -At Christmas, Easter, and Ascensiontide they again went to confession, -but on none of these occasions was anything said about dancing. - -In the beginning of August, a fortnight before St Roch’s Day, Mathis -said to his wife: - -“Wife, we must have the dancing again.” - -“You know best,” answered Geutruu, as before; “but what will M. le Curé -say?” - -To which he gave the same answer as last year. - -And there was dancing at the “Sun.” The Curé preached with all his -might, but the townspeople went first and the peasants followed, and no -less than forty-five casks of beer were consumed at the “Sun.” Such a -thing had not happened anywhere in the neighbourhood within the memory -of man. - -But, alas! for the following All Saints’ Day. As soon as the Curé caught -sight of Mathis Knoups through the grating of the confessional, he -closed the slide in his face. Geutruu received absolution, after many -entreaties and arguments, because she could plead that she had warned -her husband. - -“That’s his own business,” said Mathis; “every one must know what he is -about.” - -Henceforth Knoups went to confession only once a year—at Easter. - -“Once is a man’s duty,” said he; “but to be turned away four times in -the year is only mere waste of time and trouble.” - -Again the wicket was shut in his face. Hommels, in the tavern parlour -that evening, laughed over it, and said: - -“Well, M. le Curé keeps you all in order like a flock of sheep.” - -Knoups smiled, and replied, shortly: - -“The stayer wins. We shall see who’ll hold out longest.” - -These strained relations between Knoups and the Curé lasted some four or -five years, and then another incident occurred. - -Hubertienke, Knoups’ eldest girl, was now nine, and went to school at -Haffert. The master said that she was one of the cleverest and -best-behaved children that had ever come under his care. And now that -she went twice a week to M. le Chapelain’s “Christian doctrine” class, -it was quite likely that next St Rochus’ Day she would walk with the -other children as a “little bride” in the procession, and carry a little -flag, a shepherd’s crook, perhaps even a cornucopia, or a great crimson -heart with gold flames. The child had talked and dreamed of this -possibility for a whole year or so, and Geutruu had had a little white -dress and white satin shoes made for her in town, and bought a wreath of -May-blossom from the milliner. - -But Geutruu and her little daughter had reckoned without their host—that -is to say, without the Curé. Two days before St Rochus, his reverence -had sent for Vrouw Knoups, and asked her whether Mathis was going to -have the dance-music again. Whereupon, embarrassed and confused, she had -answered, “I think so, M. le Curé.” - -“Then Hubertine can’t walk in the procession,” was the Curé’s verdict. -“If the father doesn’t keep his Easter, the child can’t be a ‘little -bride.’” - -Geutruu came home with the tears in her eyes. - -“Bad luck to the whole thing!” raged Mathis. “Geutruu, you dress the -child properly, and take her to the church. We’ll see what the Curé does -then.” - -The wife did as he had said—dressed the child in the white frock, put on -the satin shoes, and fastened the wreath into her hair. Then she went -with Hubertienke to high mass, and when the procession started -Hubertienke took her place with the other children of the “catechising.” - -Scarcely however had the procession got out of the church, and reached -the market-place, when the Curé entered the ranks of the “little -brides,” took Hubertienke by the hand, and made the child take her place -behind the file of school children who did not yet come to “Christian -doctrine,” and were posted a long way in advance at the head of the -procession, in their black or dark blue Sunday frocks. - -[Illustration: - - “DRESSED THE CHILD IN THE WHITE FROCK.” -] - -All this was clearly seen by Mathis Knoups, standing among the crowd of -spectators. He rushed up, looking daggers, fetched his child out of the -procession, and, grinding his teeth, made his way homewards with -Hubertienke. - -He could scarcely eat his dinner for the next three days. - -When Hommels began touching on the occurrence in the evening, Mathis -cried, his lips trembling: - -“Fine religion that! As he can’t be revenged on me, he wreaks his spite -on my child! If that’s our religion, I’d rather not have no more -religion at all!” - -From that day forth the publican-carpenter went neither to church nor to -confession, not even at Easter, and was in the eyes of every one “a -downright liberal.” At the elections, he filled in his voting ticket -with his own name. When Hommels abused the Curé, and scoffed at -religion, then Knoups laughed till he shook all over. And when the -ex-burgomaster Kormann exhorted him to return to the bosom of Holy -Church, Mathis would answer: - -“_Paja!_ the whole business isn’t worth a cent!” or, “Mind your own -business, and let me attend to mine—every one ought to know what he’s -about!” - -That every one ought to know his own business best, he maintained with -equal consistency when Geutruu went with Hubertienke and the other -children to church on Sundays. Hommels, indeed, laughed at this curious -compromise between man and wife; but Geutruu would reply, when teased on -the subject: - -“I can’t bring up the children like heathen savages, can I?” - -The breach between Mathis Knoups and the Church had lasted quite three -years, when, one baking day in July, the lightning struck Haffert -church, and the whole roof was burnt off. - -Knoups looked important and thoughtful, as he remarked: - -“I should like to know who’s going to put the new roof on?” - -“Why, I suppose the Curé will somehow beg the money for it!” said -Hommels, who did not exactly see the connection. - -The thought of the new roof pursued Mathis night and day. He knew very -well how _he_ would do it—he had some choice timber lying by that would -just do—he trimmed the rafters—he made all sorts of calculations, and -was able to tell his guests to a cent that evening how much the new roof -ought to cost—not an _oortje_[24] more. But, when talking to his wife -alone, he said, half vexed and half sad: - -“The Curé is sure to take care to get another builder into Haffert this -time!” - -A week before St Rochus, Knoups went to the brewer in the town to order -the _kermis_ beer for the dancing-tent as usual. There was no brewery at -Haffert, or Knoups would certainly not have gone outside the village. - -“I have nothing but new beer for you, Master Knoups,” said the brewer; -“you will find there’s going to be sharp competition this year.” - -“How so?” asked Knoups. - -“Why, you know, don’t you, that Stamel-Joob has rented the piece of land -just opposite your house, on the other side of the Haffert road?” - -Knoups nodded an affirmative. - -“Stammering Joob is going into partnership with Crippled Manes, and they -mean to get a big dancing-tent over from Prussia, and set it up there.” - -The landlord of the “Sun” stared at the brewer with all his eyes. He was -vainly seeking for arguments to combat his own inner conviction that -Stammering Joob the never-sober host of the “City of Algiers,” and -Crippled Manes the recruiting-sergeant, who also did a good business as -a kind of broker in procuring substitutes for unwilling conscripts, were -two dangerous opponents, and capable of anything. - -“Where should they get the money from?” he suddenly exclaimed. - -The brewer shrugged his shoulders. - -Mathis became lost in thought for some minutes, and at last whispered, -looking at his purveyor with flashing eyes,— - -“Do you think the Curé of Haffert could be mixed up in this?” - -Once more the brewer shrugged his shoulders. - -“All that I know,” said he, “is that Stammering Joob and Crippled Manes -have ordered sixty casks of beer of me.” - -Mathis ordered only twenty casks for the present, and returned home with -a long face. - -Two days before St Rochus, three great Prussian freight-waggons, laden -with planks and battens and canvas, passed through Haffert, and stopped -at the Schei, right opposite the “Sun” inn. A moment after, Crippled -Manes was seen hobbling up from another direction, with an old -police-cap on his head, and followed by a number of schoolboys and -loafers from the town, where the rumour of the arrival of the “foreign -dancing-tent” had already spread. A large number of hands went to work -at once; timbers were unloaded, posts set up, canvas spread out; and in -the middle of all the bustle the lame recruiting-sergeant moved about -with his bottle of Hollands, encouraging the workmen, and sometimes -garnishing the offered glass with some such facetious remark as, “To the -health of M. le Curé of Haffert;” or, “To the health of Mathis Knoups, -our neighbour!” - -However, Mathis Knoups, who, with compressed lips, stood on the watch -behind the door of his workshop, could not hear what he said. - -But all this was nothing to the commotion which was caused on the -following day—the Eve of St Rochus—in Haffert and on the Schei, by the -arrival of twelve Prussian musicians, in faded light-green coats, -sky-blue caps, and all sorts of brass instruments,—one or two of them of -such a size that they curled all round the blower like serpents. They -marched through Haffert playing all the way, drew up in a line before -the dancing-tent, which was decked with flags and pennons, and then -entered the town, accompanied by Crippled Manes, who now, armed with a -big stick, marched in front, and acted the part of drum-major. - -All through the night Mathis could still hear the shrill sound of the -clarionet and the booming of the great bass instruments. - -No need to ask whether Haffert _kermis_ was crowded! Everybody went to -dance in the Prussian tent. The brewer had to go over twice a day with -fresh supplies; and when Knoups came to complain to him, on the third -day, that he had only tapped eight casks, it was resolved to cart eight -casks away from the “Sun” to the tent over the way. - -“Of course,” laughed Manes, “neighbours ought to help each other!” - -When, two days later, the three heavily-laden waggons had rumbled off -over the Prussian frontier, and Stammering Joob and Crippled Manes were -marching away to the town, arm in arm, and not very sober, the latter -turned back and shouted: - -“Good-bye, Master Knoups! next year we’ll be neighbours again, for a -time!” - -“Low riff-raff, that come to steal the bread out of a man’s mouth!” said -Knoups—who had heard it this time—to Geutruu. “Well, _that_ article’s -spoilt for good and all; I shall have to put all my strength into my own -trade!” - -The following week, a notice, posted up on the Haffert Raadhuis, -announced to all and sundry that tenders for the new roofing of the -church were to be sent in to the authorities by that day fortnight. - -“It’s no good _my_ sending in a paper,” thought Mathis; “the Curé and -the burgomaster are all in the same boat, and the Curé will take good -care I don’t get the contract.” - -It may be supposed, therefore, that he looked amazed when Geutruu, -returning from the town one rainy afternoon, stood still, right in front -of him, and said: - -“Now I’m going to tell you something! You’ll have to send in your paper -for the church roof!” - -“I!—for the roof!” cried Mathis. - -“You, for the roof!” repeated Geutruu. “Just listen now. I had just got -outside the gate when it began to rain. I was going to turn my skirt up -over my head, when somebody came running after me, and called out, -‘Vrouw Knoups! Vrouw Knoups!’ I turned round, and who should it be but -M. le Curé’s sister, Joffer Marianneke. ‘Come along under my umbrella,’ -says she, ‘and I’ll walk home with you!’ I said, ‘Too much honour, -Joffer Marianneke,’ and ‘Thank you, Joffer Marianneke,’—but it was no -use, I had to come along under her umbrella. And then she told me that -M. le Curé quite expects you to send in your paper for the contract, and -that it grieves him so much that there should be a black sheep in the -congregation; and she is coming next week to drink coffee with us. And -what do you say now?” - -Knoups listened, astonished, and at the same time excited. - -“H’m!” he said then, “... we must just think over that ... one ought to -know what one is about!” - -It was a very busy day for Geutruu, when Mam’selle Marianne, the Curé’s -sister, came to coffee. She had baked special cakes—_vlaai_ and -_krintemik_; and, when her guest had arrived, she went herself to fetch -Mathis out of his workshop. Mathis laid aside his apron, wiped his -forehead with it, and followed his wife indoors. - -“_Serviteur_, Joffer Marianneke,” said he, accomplishing with some -difficulty an awkward kind of bow. - -“I’ve just looked in to see how you are getting on, Master Knoups,” said -the Curé’s sister, taking a bite at her slice of currant-loaf. - -“Very kind, I’m sure, Joffer Marianneke! and I wish you a good -appetite!” replied Knoups. - -“To-morrow M. le Curé is going round with the alms-bag, Master Knoups, -for the new roof to the church. Are you going to give something too?” - -“H’m, h’m! If M. le Curé does not pass my door, we’ll see what we shall -do, Joffer Marianneke!” - -Next day came M. le Curé with the alms-bag. - -“Master Knoups, I am going to _all_ our parishioners.” He emphasised the -“all.” “Will you contribute something towards the new roof for the -church?” - -Now that Knoups was standing before his enemy, it seemed as though -something boiled up in him,—as though he would have to say something -quite different from what he had thought out beforehand,—and yet there -was such a tightness at his throat that he could not bring out a word. - -He kept his eyes fixed on the priest, made one or two great efforts to -swallow the lump in his throat, and at length burst out, clinching his -fist convulsively: - -“M. le Curé, why did you revenge yourself on my child for the grudge you -had against me?” - -And at the last words he struck his clinched hand against his chest. - -“_Chut! chut!_ Master Knoups,” said the Curé, with a deprecating wave of -the hand; “I have duties to fulfil,—and, after all, you had been -warned.” - -“If you had said publicly, in the pulpit, Master Knoups is a heretic,—if -you had turned me out of your church, some Sunday, in the middle of high -mass, I could forgive it; but ... my child....” - -“Come, come, Knoups, don’t go dragging drowned cows out of the -ditch,—think of the new church roof. You’re a carpenter, and if I meant -ill towards you I would not have come to you with the alms-bag.” - -These words soothed Knoups somewhat. He silently offered the Curé a -chair, and sat down opposite him. Then he put his hand under his blue -blouse into his jacket pocket, took out a paper, unfolded it, and laid -it before the priest. - -“M. le Curé,” he said, “here is my tender for the contract If the work -is given to me, I will deduct twenty gulden from the sum, as my -contribution to the roof.” - -“And then, Knoups, and then?” asked the Curé, in a tone of serious -admonition. - -“How do you mean, M. le Curé?” - -“Are you going to have the dancing again?” - -“M. le Curé,” answered Knoups, “I am quite willing to live in peace and -friendship with every one; but I ought to be allowed to earn a few -stivers when I want them.” - -“And do you think, Knoups, that this dancing business is all profit? Do -you know that people of position are shy of your house for that very -reason? Why do the professors from St Aloysius’ College, and all their -students,—and the Christian Brothers, and all their schoolboys—why do -they always pass the ‘Sun’ by? You have a good head for reckoning, I’ve -often heard, Master Knoups. Did you ever figure out what it would come -to in a year if two hundred young fellows were to come every week, or -say every fortnight, to have a glass of beer?” - -Knoups’ whole face shone with excitement. - -“Why, one could lay out a skittle-ground with that!” he cried. - -“Well, are you going to repent of your ways, and come to church again, -Knoups?” - -“Would you give me absolution if I did?” - -“If you had no more dancing—why, there would be no further reason for -refusing it.” - -Knoups sat still, and thought for a little. Then he took his broad -carpenter’s pencil, wrote on the paper, “_less twenty gulden for the -roof_,” and said: - -“We’ll see, M. le Curé, we’ll see. And, after all, I’m not the worst.” - -The same evening, in the “Sun,” Hommels was talking about the elections. - -“Pooh!” cried he, “convictions! I hate the sound of the word. Money is -all they care about, or the honour of sitting in the council and having -their say in everything!... There you have the burgomaster Driemans; he -has been liberal three times, and clerical three times, and every time -he got in!... and the _rentier_, Lankmans, formerly president of a -dramatic society, who ate meat on Fridays, chosen as a defender of the -Faith!... and our deputy, Judge Stechelmans, who formerly, when he was a -school inspector, cursed and swore when he found a crucifix hanging in a -school, he too is a pillar of the Church! And the priests know all that -very well, but what do they care? such men are of use to them, and -that’s enough!... _Sufficit_, you know!” - -“So, so,” said Knoups, in a naïvely satirical tone, half shutting his -eyes, “is that what they mean by politics,—a question of money?” - -Knoups sent in his tender for the contract for the new church roof. -There was indeed an offer made at a lower figure by a builder in the -town, but the Curé and the burgomaster said that Knoups had the best -timber on hand—even though it had been bought with the proceeds of the -dancing, as Knoups said—and gave the contract to him. Knoups turned his -dancing-floor into a skittle-ground, went to confession on All Saints’ -Day, and got his absolution all right. - -Since that time Mathis Knoups has become a Catholic again. Hommels does -not frequent the “Sun” now. - -“One can’t put one’s foot down there without tumbling over a professor -from the College, or one of the Christian Brothers’ boys,” he said. And -when he makes his appearance, now and then, to tease Mathis, and asks, -“How do you feel now, Mathis, as a New Catholic?” Mathis answers: - -“Yes, you may laugh, Mynheer Hommels, but just wait till you come to -die—then you’ll be frightened too.... And one must look after one’s -soul,—isn’t it so, Geutruu?”[25] - - EMILE SEIPGENS. - - - - - _NEWSPAPER HUMOUR._ - - - OTHERWISE ENGAGED. - -_Police-Magistrate_—“What insolence! to break into a house, in a busy -street, in the middle of the day!” - -_Thief_—“I was already engaged for the evening.” - - * * * * * - - WEDDED LOVE. - -_Jan_—“Oh, Julie! how pleased I am to see you!” - -_Julie_—“Is that true, Jan?” - -_Jan_—“Yes, my little wife, my——” - -_Julie_—“If we were out at sea, and I were to fall overboard, what would -you do?” - -_Jan_—“First, I should see what time it was; then I should inform the -captain that there was some one overboard, and ask whether the vessel -could be stopped. When it was stopped, I would have a boat let down, and -row back to the place where you had fallen into the water. It would be -quite easy to find, because I should have noticed the time at which we -were there, the rate we were going at, and the direction the ship was -taking. If you were still floating, it would be all right; if you had -sunk, we should have to wait till bubbles——” - -_Julie_—“Oh! you heartless scoundrel! You murderer! I’ll never go -anywhere with you!” - -(And then she went to her mother and told her that Jan was a fellow of -uncommon sense and shrewdness, who could not fail to make his fortune, -&c. &c.) - - _Tybaert de Kater._ - - * * * * * - -_Professor_ (at Medical lecture)—“What would you do, if you found the -condition of the patient in this case had become worse?” - -_Student_—“I should thank Heaven I was not in his skin.” - -[Illustration: - - “OTHERWISE ENGAGED.” -] - - * * * * * - - ON THE STEAM-TRAM. - -“Hallo!—Conductor!” - -“What is it, sir?” - -“Why is the tram stopping here? There is no station—I can only see one -house.” - -“Oh, we’re stopping because Farmer Verschueren’s wife wants to come to -town.” - -“I wish she’d make haste, then!” - -“Yes—but she wants to take a dozen eggs to market, and she has only -eleven. The hen is on the nest, and as soon as she has laid the egg we -are going on.” - - _Tybaert._ - - * * * * * - -A lawyer had had his photograph taken. He was wearing his morning coat, -and had his hands in the pockets. - -“Is it not a good likeness?” asked the photographer, showing it to one -of his friends. - -“Speaking—as far as the face is concerned; but, for the rest, there is -something wrong about it.” - -“What is that?” - -“A lawyer never puts his hands in _his own_ pockets.” - - * * * * * - - AT THE CHEMISTRY CLASS. - -“What is found in salt-water besides the chloride of iodine we have just -been speaking of?” - -_Youngest Pupil_—“Herrings, sir.” - - * * * * * - - OVERHEARD IN THE STREET. - -“Good-morning, William. Why! how changed you are!” - -“Don’t be offended—but my name is not William!” - -“Well, now!—he has changed even his very name!” - - * * * * * - -[Illustration] - -“Bonifacius,” said Madame Snobs, “the way you are taking to drink is -disgraceful! You didn’t come home till nearly morning, and now you want -to go out again before dinner-time! You ought to be ashamed of yourself. -If I was a man like that, I would drop into the ground for shame!” - -“You are quite right, wife,” said Snobs; “just give me the key of the -cellar.” - - * * * * * - -Snobs was for some time Justice of the Peace at Bommerskonten, and is -now Mayor of that village. The first time he celebrated a marriage -there, he asked the bride— - -“Do you take Kobe Kullemans, who is standing beside you, for your -husband?” - -“Yes, sir,” replied the bride. - -“Prisoner at the bar,” continued Snobs, “what have you to say in your -defence?” - - * * * * * - -_Snobs_—“What clever answers that fellow Snugger can give, to be sure, -when one asks him anything!” - -_Madame Snobs_—“Why—I have never noticed that.” - -_Snobs_—“Indeed it is so. Yesterday I asked him if he would lend me -twenty francs. He did not say either yes or no, but he asked me if I -thought he was mad.” - - * * * * * - - PRACTICAL. - -“John,” said the lady of the house to the new man-servant, who had -several times startled her by falling into the room like a bombshell, -“when you come in, you must knock first, and wait till you hear some one -say, ‘Come in.’” - -When the lady and her husband are seated at dinner, John comes up to the -door, opens it just wide enough to put his head through, draws back, -shuts the door, and knocks. - -“Come in!” cries the mistress, in amazement. “Didn’t you understand me? -You were to knock, and then wait till I said, ‘Come in,’—instead of -that, you peep round the door first. What do you mean by it?” - -“Why, I had to see if there was any one in the room to tell me to come -in!” - - _Uilenspiegel._ - - * * * * * - - JEWISH COURTSHIP. - -_Rachel_—“But, Moses lad, you say you are so fond of me—would you really -go through the fire for me?” - -_Moses_—“Of course, Rachel, darling—that is to say, if I was well -insured.” - -[Illustration: - - “JEWISH COURTSHIP.” -] - - * * * * * - -_Mother Spons_—“What do I see, Mother Snaps!—you look quite well to-day, -and yet I was told you could not get out of your bed.” - -_Mother Snaps_—“Well—and no more I can,—for as soon as ever I get up, -that husband of mine will carry it straight to the pawnbroker’s!” - - * * * * * - -“Who wrote the Psalms?” asked Pater Dodd, somewhat sharply, of his -class. All were silent, and the good priest repeated the question. - -“It was not I, sir,” responded Janneke Snobs, beginning to cry. - -“I ask you who wrote them!” repeated the priest. - -“Yes, sir,” said Janneke, heroically, at last, “I did it, but I’ll never -do it again, as long as I live!” - - * * * * * - - AT SCHOOL. - -The master is explaining the arithmetical operation of subtraction:— - -“Now, Jantje, if your mother gives you five slices of bread and butter, -and you eat two, how many will you have left?” - -“Mother never gives me so many, sir.” - -“Well, then, if you have five marbles in your pocket, and take out two, -how many will there be left in it?” - -“None at all, sir,—there’s a hole in my pocket.” - - * * * * * - -_A._—“Our business is so extensive that we have to keep a man on purpose -to thrash the apprentices, and he’s at it all day.” - -_B._—“That’s nothing to ours! Our establishment is so immense that we -have to keep St Bernard dogs in the corridors to look for the customers -who lose themselves there!” - - * * * * * - -A man who had repeatedly called on a nobleman to obtain payment of a -debt, was refused access by the well-drilled footman, in the words, “The -Baron does not receive to-day.” - -“That is all the same to me,” replied the creditor; “I don’t care,—as -long as he will _give_.” - - * * * * * - - AT A RESTAURANT. - -_Snugger_ (_who has been waiting over an hour for his beefsteak_)—“Look -here, waiter, are you the same that put this plate on the table?” - -[Illustration] - -_Waiter_—“Yes, sir.” - -_Snugger_—“Heavens! you’ve grown out of all knowledge since then!” - - * * * * * - - A PLEASANT TRADE. - -A small boy goes howling along the street. Our friend Snobs accosts him -with, “What is the matter, my little man?” - -Boy howls. - -“Where do you live?” - -Boy howls still. - -“What is your father’s name?” - -More howling. - -“What is your mother’s name?” - -Still more. - -“What does your father do?” - -“Beats mother. Ow! ow! ow!” - - * * * * * - - DISCONSOLATE. - -_Kind-hearted Farmer’s Wife_—“Pietje, my boy, what’s the matter?” - -_Pietje_ (_howling_)—“Can’t eat any more apples.” - -“Well, put them in your pockets, can’t you?” - -“Oh! oh! oh! My pockets are full! Oh! oh! oh! oh!” - - * * * * * - -_Judge_—“But why in the world did you go so far to steal wine, when you -might easily have got it in your master’s cellar?” - -_Prisoner_—“I knew my master’s wine too well to steal even one bottle of -it.” - - _Allemansvriend._ - - * * * * * - -_Judge_ (to convicted thief)—“You seem to understand your business.” - -_Prisoner_—“Yes, my lord, and if you could steal as well as I, you -wouldn’t care to sit on the bench any longer.” - - _Vlaamsche Illustratie._ - - * * * * * - - IN THE CONFESSIONAL. - -_Boy_—“Rev. Father, I have stolen twenty-five yards of stuff from farmer -Klaas.” - -[Illustration] - -_Priest_—“Oh! that is very bad.” - -_Boy_—“Yes; mother said it was bad, when she saw it, but still she -thought it would do to make sacks of.” - - _Allemansvriend._ - - * * * * * - -Never estimate a man’s value according to the silk umbrella he carries; -he has probably left a cotton one somewhere in place of it. - -We are all ready to set up as moral physicians, and each of us can give -his advice; but a University diploma is necessary before you can cure a -child of the stomach-ache. - -Many a man who says that he works like a barge-horse, is probably -thinking of the time when the barge-horse is standing in the stall -eating oats. - -A word is enough for the wise. This is probably the reason why an -advocate has to plead for half a day before a jury. - - * * * * * - -Kobe Snullemans was about to be married, but he had only two francs, and -the priest asked a fee of twenty. - -“Oh! your reverence!” said Kobe, “just marry me a little then, as much -as you can for two francs!” - - _Tybaert._ - - * * * * * - -_Janneke Snobs_—“Mamma, how do the niggers on the Congo know when it is -Sunday? they have no clean shirts to put on.” - - * * * * * - -_Conductor_ (to his clerk)—“Did you give the hundred francs to the -chairman of the Board of Works?” - -_Clerk_—“Yes, sir.” - -_Con._—“What sort of a face did he make?” - -_Clerk_—“He looked very much offended.” - -_Con._—“Didn’t he say anything?” - -_Clerk_—“Yes, sir.” - -_Con._—“What did he say?” - -_Clerk_—“That you and I ought to go to jail!” - -_Con._—“And what did he do then?” - -_Clerk_—“He took the money.” - - _Uilenspiegel._ - - * * * * * - - UNNECESSARY. - -Kapblok, the butcher’s man, is running, knife in hand, after Snugger’s -dog, who has stolen a piece of meat out of his shop. - -_Snugger_—“Kapblok, where are you running to with that knife?” - -_Kapblok_—“Don’t you see the beast has got hold of a piece of the best -beef?” - -_Snugger_—“Is that all? Just put your knife back again; he never cuts -his meat, he can worry it down well enough without that.” - -[Illustration: - - “KAPBLOK, THE BUTCHER’S MAN.” -] - - * * * * * - -_Janneke Snobs_ (on his grandfather’s birthday)—“Grandfather dear, I -have come to wish you many happy returns of the day, and I hope you may -live a long time this year!” - - _Tybaert._ - - * * * * * - - IN THE CARNIVAL. - -“Well, Krelis, are you going to put on a mask?” - -_A Voice_—“If he would just wash himself for once, and put on a clean -collar, no one would know him.” - - * * * * * - - A HEART-FELT PETITION. - -When Mané was still a minister, he was tolerably well known as a -henpecked man. In church, on one occasion, he closed his extempore -prayer with the following words:—“And now, O Lord! we pray for the wives -of preachers. Some people think they are angels, but Thou, who knowest -the hearts, art well aware that....” - -History does not record what took place between Mané and his wife when -he returned home that day. - - * * * * * - -_Inspecting General_ (to Private)—“Are you satisfied with your rations?” - -_Private_—“Yes, sir.” - -_General_—“How about the meat? Does every one get served alike? or does -one get much and another little?” - -_Private_—“No, sir; we all get very little.” - - * * * * * - -_Sentry_—“My good woman, what do you want with the pillar-box? You’ve -been standing there half-an-hour at least.” - -_Old Woman_—“Well, I don’t mind if I tell you, sir. I put a letter in, -and I’m waiting for the answer.” - - * * * * * - -_Tall Barrister_—“Not so fast, my friend. You know I could easily put -you in my pocket.” - -_Short Ditto_—“If my learned brother were to do so, he would have more -law in his pocket than in his head.” - - * * * * * - -“Professor, I have come to express my gratitude. All that I know, I owe -to you.” - -_Professor_—“Come, come, friend, don’t mention it. _Such a trifle_ is -really not worth remembering.” - -[Illustration: - - “INSPECTOR GENERAL: ‘ARE YOU SATISFIED WITH YOUR RATIONS?’” -] - - * * * * * - - AT THE HATTER’S. - -“What! you say this hat is thirty florins?” - -“Yes, sir; real Panama.” - -“But I don’t see any holes in the top.” - -“Holes, sir?” - -“Of course; the man who is ass enough to pay as much as that will want -holes to let his ears through.” - - * * * * * - -_Lawyer_—“My friend, you are an ass!” - -_Witness_—“Do you mean, sir, that I am your friend because I am an ass? -or that I am an ass because I am your friend?” - - * * * * * - -_Waiter_—“Why, sir, there was a gentleman here last week painting this -very place.” - -_Painter_ (absently)—“Yes. Was he an artist?” - -_Waiter_—“An artist? No, sir; he was a _very respectable man_.” - - * * * * * - -_The Uncle_ (from whom one has expectations)—“My dearest boy, I have -thought over the matter for some time, but I really cannot give you the -sum you want. I never depart from my principles, and one of them is, not -to undress before I go to bed.” - -_Nephew_ (constrainedly)—“Very sorry, very sorry, indeed.... (With an -effusive grasp of the hand.) Good-night, uncle! GOOD-NIGHT!” - - * * * * * - - ON A RIVER STEAMER. - -_Gentleman_ (first-class)—“Captain, I say! this is an unpardonable want -of delicacy. Can’t you direct this cursed smoke towards the -_second-class passengers_?” - - * * * * * - - THE NEXT REGIMENT. - -_Country Lass_—“Soldier, may I give you this pound of tobacco to take to -my cousin Jan? He’s in the 3rd, and I see you’re in the 2nd; so you’re -just next to him.” - -_Soldier_—“With pleasure, lass; give it here. I’ll see that he don’t -have anything to pay for carriage.” (He rides away, in a state of total -indifference to Cousin Jan, and all that concerns him. Jan’s cousin goes -home, happy in the thought that he is going to get his tobacco so -cheaply.) - - * * * * * - - VERY SELECT. - -“Do tell me, Baron, is there not a very clever surgeon living in the -village near your castle?” - -“I am told so, madam, but ... you understand ... a country practitioner -like that ... I cannot put any confidence in him.... I only have him -sent for when one of the servants is ill.” - - * * * * * - -_Shopkeeper_ (catching boy with both hands in the till)—“You young -scoundrel, what do you want there?” - -_Boy_—“I ... I ... I’m looking for my cap.” - -_Shopkeeper_—“It’s on your head all the time, gallows-bird.” - -_Boy_—“On my head? Oh, no! you’re out there. That’s not my cap; that’s -one I borrowed till I could find my own.” - - * * * * * - - AN INCORRUPTIBLE OFFICIAL. - -_Suitor_ (from the country)—“Sir, here is a bit of a ham, home-cured, -just to thank you for——” - -_Official_—“What? Idiot! rascal! Do you think a sworn civil servant is -going to let himself be bribed? Hand over the ham at once! Hand it over, -I say! And now out with you! There’s the door! Out you go! March!” - - * * * * * - -Silent reflections of a member of the dangerous classes.—“It’s mighty -queer; this makes five times I’ve been had up for stealing, and each -time they’ve let me off.... Hanged if I understand it; but it does seem -as if they meant me to go on!” - - * * * * * - -_College Porter_—“Yes, sir; our late colleague was one who always -discharged the duties of his office with the greatest zeal. And now he -is dead, and has not left a cent to pay for his funeral. We have -therefore resolved to get up a subscription; and I have taken the -liberty of coming to you, thinking you would contribute something -towards so worthy an object. We still want ten guilders.” - -_Student_ (in a voice trembling with emotion)—“Ten guilders ... I am -deeply touched ... instead of ten I’ll give you a hundred; but do please -bury a few more college porters with the money.” - - * * * * * - - ON PARADE. - -_Short Subaltern_ (to tall recruit)—“Fellow, how dare you have the -impudence to look down on me like that? Come, stand up straight—eyes -right—look straight before you.” - -_Recruit_—“Good-bye, sir!” - -_Short S._—“Are you mad, you scoundrel?” - -_Recruit_—“No, sir; but if I am to keep looking straight in front of me, -sir, I’d better say good-bye, sir, please sir, for I’ll never see you -again in my life, sir!” - - * * * * * - -_Tenant_—“Gracious goodness! You have raised the rent again ... and what -for?” - -_Landlord_—“What for?—you want to know what for? Why, for one thing, -there’s the new clock-tower and clock right in front of your window. Do -you think I intend to make you a present of that?” - - * * * * * - -_Mistress_ (giving out provisions for the kitchen)—“Don’t you want any -butter, Mie?” - -_Maid_—“No, thank you, Mevrouw. I belong to the Temperance Society, and -must not take anything _strong_.” - - * * * * * - -_1st Soldier_ (in the country)—“What are those things in the field over -there?” - -_2nd Soldier_—“Those are traps to catch moles.” - -_1st S._—“That’s just one of your larks again! Just as though the moles -would be fools enough to go and get caught in that little spot of -ground, when there are acres of fields all round.” - -_2nd S._—“Well, how is it that, when the town is so big and the cell at -the police-station so small, you’re always in it?” - - * * * * * - - A DOUBLE MISFORTUNE. - -“Do you not think it a deeply significant fact, Henri,” said the poet to -his friend, “that I was born on the same day on which Goethe died?” - -_Henri_—“Both events are cruel misfortunes to literature.” - - * * * * * - -Mrs A.’s housemaid has come round with a message:— - -“Mistress’s compliments, and she would like to know if you will come to -spend to-morrow evening?” - -_Mrs B._—“Very pleased, I am sure.... Are there more people coming?” - -_Housemaid_—“I have them here on a list.” - -_Mrs B._—“Let me see.... Why, there are at least thirty names here!” - -_Housemaid_—“Yes, but most of them know that the children have the -chicken-pox, and mistress was reckoning on that!” - - * * * * * - - AT THE SOLICITOR’S. - -“Good-morning, sir! May I ask you to advise me what compensation is due -when another person’s dog does damage in any one’s house?” - -“Certainly, sir. The injured party is entitled to two guilders -compensation.” - -“May I ask you for that sum, then? It is your dog that I have to -complain of.” - -“Ah! Then it is your property that my dog has damaged? Nothing can be -fairer than that I should pay you the legal compensation. Here are -twenty cents.” - -“Twenty cents!” - -“Yes. As thus:— - - Your claim is fl. 2 0 - My fee, for advice 1 80 - —————————— - Balance due to you 0 20.” - - * * * * * - - A SLIGHT MISTAKE. - -A man, who thought himself a scientist, gave a public lecture on -electricity. The hall was at first tolerably well filled, but the -audience were not long in finding out with whom they had to do, and -began to go out one by one. At last only one man remained, who listened -with the greatest attention, and thus encouraged the lecturer to -continue. At the end of half-an-hour he interrupted himself, and said -politely— - -“I beg your pardon, sir, but I hope I am not trespassing on your -kindness? I shall have finished in ten minutes.” - -“Ten minutes! You can go on for another hour—or all night, if you -like—so long as you don’t forget that you engaged me by the hour!” - -The unhappy man perceived too late that it was the cabman who had driven -him down to the lecture-hall. - - * * * * * - -_Horseman_ (passing window of farmhouse)—“I say, you stupid lout, I want -to know why you are always laughing when I ride past?” - -_Peasant_—“Why, sir, it is because you always happen to ride past when I -am laughing.” - - * * * * * - -_A._—“How are you, old fellow? Have you heard who has got that situation -in the Home Office that you were trying for?” - -_B._—“Some ass or other, I suppose, who doesn’t in the least deserve -it!” - -_A._—“Of that _you_ should be the best judge; you are the lucky man!” - - - - - _THE CANDIDATE._ - - -It is now full two years since Dominie Groshaus departed this life. For -forty years the worthy man had tended his flock at Harder, without a -thought of laying aside his staff, and quite resolved to edify his -congregation for another ten years or so. But Death was not of the same -opinion as the deaf old gentleman. One fine morning he came along, and -gently took the staff out of the shepherd’s hand. - -“_Le roi est mort, vive le roi_,” now came true at Harder. Scarcely had -the grave closed over Dominie Groshaus, when they began to think of -choosing a new pastor. This time it must be a liberal; that was plain as -a pikestaff. The Harder people wished to show that they could advance -with the times. But where to find him—that was the question. The stipend -was not large, and the number of “advanced” candidates exceedingly -small,—a bitter disappointment for the Harder parishioners, for your -farmer knows no greater enjoyment than in listening to the trial sermons -of a “whole regiment” of candidates. As matters stood, however, there -was nothing for it but to cut their coat according to their cloth, and -six probationers were accordingly invited to display their gifts. The -Harder people were not fortunate; for, behold, the last of the six had -already arrived, and been quartered at the schoolmaster’s, and they had -not yet found the right man! It will be understood that they were -waiting the last trial sermon in a state of great excitement. No one’s -heart, however, beat so high as Mr Slop’s, for the last candidate -pleased the schoolmaster uncommonly well—yes, uncommonly. He had enjoyed -a most delightful evening in the young fellow’s company. The -conversation went as if on wheels. Tantalising prospectives of -instructive conversations, profitable exchange of thought—of society -such as he had often vainly longed for—opened themselves to the master’s -mental vision. Therefore it was his most ardent wish that this candidate -should succeed. He was just considering what he could do to promote his -success, when the probationer suddenly put a question to him -point-blank. - -“Can you tell me, sir, the reason why my friend Burgers did not give -satisfaction here?” - -“Oh! well—what can I say to you?—the man was the victim of a stupid -joke. His hair is, as I suppose you are aware,...” - -“Red—yes, fiery red,” sighed the probationer, with a faint smile. -“Yes—that hair of his!” - -“Well,” pursued the schoolmaster, “on the day Mr Burgers was preaching -here, Jaap Stricker, a farmer, who is known as the worst joker in the -village, happened to be sitting in the pew just behind the elders. When -the young man, who was certainly doing his best, rather raised his voice -at the end of his sermon, and at the same time threw his arms out -quickly, Jaap Stricker bent over to the burgomaster, and whispered to -him, ‘The fire is bursting out.’ That joke, sir, was the _coup de -grâce_.” - -“_Il n’y a pire que le ridicule_,” thought the probationer, “even among -these farmers.” And suddenly—as the schoolmaster drew the little stove -towards him in order to light his pipe—there rose up before him the -image of Hein Burgers, the rejected, as he used to sit at students’ -gatherings, with his honest, jovial face, crowned—alas! with locks of -too brilliant a colour. He saw once more the gloomy Van Overveen -pretending, with his melancholy smile, to light his cigar at Hein -Burgers’ flaming head; he heard one and the other call out, on finding -that his pipe had gone out, “Just pass Hein this way, will you?”... - -“I was just saying,” the schoolmaster continued, carefully putting the -cover on his pipe, after a vigorous pull or two,—“I was saying that was -the finishing touch. For even if Mr Burgers’ hair had been black instead -of red, the man’s chance was gone. In the first place, he forgot, when -he entered the church, to salute the elders—ahem!—just nod to them, you -know!” - -“Aha!” said the candidate, making a mental note of the fact. - -“And, besides that, there was something in his sermon the burgomaster -did not like.” - -Here the schoolmaster’s lips opened, and the pipe slid into the corner -of his mouth. His eyes wandered over the ceiling, while he exhibited -that vibration of the diaphragm which, according to Darwin, is the -symptom of suppressed mirth. - -“Pah!” ... he continued, after a pause, emitting a thick cloud of smoke, -under shelter of which his face came back into its normal condition. -“You must know that there occurred in his sermon an allusion to Galileo. -This was what offended the burgomaster.” - -“Galileo!” exclaimed the probationer, springing from his seat. “Galileo! -what earthly objection can the burgomaster have to Galileo?” - -“Much more than you think,” returned Mr Slop, with a solemn countenance, -but laughter in his eyes. “Much more than you can conjecture. Our -burgomaster has, along with many good qualities, a weakness—a -prejudice—what shall I call it? The fact is, that he does not believe -that the earth turns round....” - -The shout of laughter emitted by his hearer reduced the schoolmaster to -silence. - -The two men looked at each other. The master laughed too—the -probationer’s mirth was infectious—but not so loud. And while the young -man continued to give free rein to his emotions, Slop quietly groaned to -himself. - -“Could a man have done a more unlucky thing?” he went on at last. “Why -need he have dragged in Galileo at all? As soon as I heard the name, I -thought to myself, ‘There goes your chance, my dear young gentleman!’ -And if he had confined himself to mentioning the name, no harm would -have been done; but he did worse—he called Galileo’s opponents -narrow-minded people! And at last, as if to complete the disaster, he -uttered it as his settled conviction that there was no one among his -hearers who believed in the stability of the earth. Then I could see -that it was all up with him, for the burgomaster flushed up, red as -fire. Moreover, he nodded twice, and looked at the preacher with angry -defiance.” - -“Stop, sir! stop!” cried the candidate, holding his sides. “But surely, -then, your burgomaster—what’s the man’s name?—Gorter—surely this Gorter -is an original of the first water?” - -“He is indeed. Let us only hope that Galileo has not brought the whole -modern movement into discredit with him. I sadly fear that such is the -case. At any rate, sir, you are warned. If he enters on the subject -to-morrow—as he is almost certain to do—keep a good look-out, and mind -you don’t fall into the snare.” - - -On the following morning the church was as full as it could hold. The -candidate gave particular satisfaction. His delivery was more than -satisfactory; his voice was as clear as a bell. Such was the verdict of -the parishioners. Very well content, and with a great air of mystery, -the elders received the preacher at the end of the service. For when the -farmer has once made his choice, he takes good care not to give the -slightest hint of it—sly diplomat that he is! The candidate was to dine -at Burgomaster Gorter’s. Aaltje, the good-natured, bashful, kindly wife -of that dignitary, had prepared ribs of pork. With heartfelt -satisfaction did the couple take note of the young man’s hearty -appetite. He did not require any pressing, and played as good a knife -and fork as if he had been at home. This pleased the burgomaster well. A -good appetite is usually the sign of good health. Who would buy an -unhealthy cow? And what person in his senses would wish to possess an -unhealthy minister? - -At the end of the repast, a walk in the orchard was proposed. The -burgomaster, pipe in mouth, stumped along in his wooden shoes, solemn -and dignified—a sphinx in a peaked cap—beside his guest, and took him to -see the pigs. Then they slowly returned to the house, the farmer still -preserving an air of tremendous mystery. - -At last Mijnheer Gorter broke the ominous silence. - -“I was very well-pleased with your discourse this morning,” he said. - -“Were you, sir? I’m glad to hear that.” - -“They want a modern man in this place. Well—I’m modern, too!” The -burgomaster’s chin moved backwards into his black silk neckcloth, while -a smile of grim self-satisfaction played about his lips. “I’m modern, -and progressive too,” he went on. “But there is one thing I can’t get -over. I don’t believe that the earth turns round. No one can make a fool -of me about that. Every morning when I go out into the fields, I see it -with my own eyes lying perfectly still. Now that has nothing to do with -modern thought,—that turning round, I suppose,—has it?” - -“Oh!” replied the candidate, fairly driven into a corner, “it certainly -does have a little to do with it; but, after all, it’s not the principal -point. One may be a good and honest and religious man, and yet be of -opinion—I mean, believe—that the earth stands still. St Paul, for -example——” - -“There you are!” roared the burgomaster, bringing his hand vigorously -down on his companion’s shoulder in the fulness of his satisfaction. - -And thus, through his well-timed consideration of the burgomaster’s -hobby, the sixth candidate was elected to the parish of Harder. - - T. H. HOOIJER. - (_De Gids_, 1881.) - - - - - _EPIGRAMS._ - - - (SNELDICHTEN.) - - Tys was a painter—a doctor then he became, - And said to his friends, who murmured at the same, - “My faults as a painter, sure, every one could see, - But now my errors are underground, the better ’tis for me.” - - * * * * * - - TROP DE ZÈLE. - - Hans boasts he skated from Cologne - In one day to the Hague. “In one,” - His man confirms him, “true as you stand here— - _But ’twas the longest day of all the year!_” - - * * * * * - - ’Twas asked, Which was the longest day? - My farmer friend, who would not stay - Till I had searched the calendar aright, - Said, “Why, sir, ’tis the one that has the shortest night.” - - * * * * * - - Dirck once was given to language most profane; - I strove to turn him from his evil ways in vain. - After long years I was successful. How? - With this one word: “Tis not the mode in Paris now.” - - * * * * * - - TO A PREACHER. - - Ye preach so long, good sir, that we the opening have forgot, - And therefore when ye reach the end, we understand it not. - - * * * * * - - Pete ran against me in the street one day, - Nor moved aside: “He would not yield the way - To every fool.” “I can—and do!” said I— - Stepped from the path, and let the fool pass by. - - * * * * * - - Old Father Jan did chide his son because he sleeping lay, - Instead of getting up to work at dawning of the day, - And told him how a certain boor, at daybreak in the field, - Had found his fallow ground a pot of gold did yield. - “Yes, father,” said young Jack, “’twas early, it may be, - But sure the man that lost the gold was earlier than he!” - - * * * * * - - Jan will take where’er he can, - Out of purse and out of sack, - Out of cupboard, chest or pack, - Out of kettle, pot, and pan,— - Jan’s a very _taking_ man. - - * * * * * - - CLOTHES AND MEN. - - The tailor’s shop for highest praise, say I, - With royal courts doth vie; - Best skill boast which of these two can? - There the man makes the clothes; here the clothes make the man. - - * * * * * - - Dirck went out once to buy a hat, ’tis known, - And sought to pay for it with words alone. - “Nay,” said the mercer, “I’ll not come to that, - To meet _you_ and uncover to _my hat_!” - - * * * * * - - How can a miller be a thief? - Methinks the thing were past belief; - What use for gold or gear can find - The man who lives upon the wind? - - * * * * * - - PRUDENT IGNORANCE. - - Peter knows nought, and will know nought; - I know the reason why: - He fears distress and injury, - And has not the old saw forgot— - _What a man knows not hurts him not_. - - * * * * * - - THE COURTSHIP OF JAN AND GRIET. - - “Well, is it ne’er to be?” said Jan; - “I’ve faithfully done all I can: - I’ve served you as a friend,” quo’ he, - “So long in all humility, - And serve you still!” “Tis true,” said she, - “And yet you will not serve for me!” - - * * * * * - - A knight, a doctor, a new nobleman, - A duke, a count, to make of any man, - Is no great art, and this can princes do. - Would Heaven grant us but some princes, who - Could by authority of ring and seal, - With men of sense provide the commonweal! - - * * * * * - - “My parents,” Andrew said, “were drowned at sea, - Therefore no vessel, ship, or boat, for me!” - “My father and my mother,” Adrian said, - “Died in their beds: shall I not go to bed?” - - * * * * * - - Twelve men to try a crime is British use:— - A thief was asked his jury for to choose. - “The twelve apostles—honest men they be.” - Then said a man: “But those we shall not see - Before the day of judgment.” “Gentlemen, - I’ll gladly wait the trial until then.” - - * * * * * - - Once poor, and kind of heart, thou’rt rich and greedy, Jan! - The touchstone proves the gold, the gold doth prove the man. - - CONSTANTIJN HUYGENS, 1596–1687. - - I met a kinsman of mine but now, - And asked him where he lived, and how? - “Like any prince,” so said my friend, - “I have enough to eat and drink, and debts without an end.” - -[Illustration: - - “I MET A KINSMAN OF MINE.” -] - - * * * * * - - Said Jan, twice wedded to a scolding wife, - “Church-going’s the great pleasure of my life; - ’Tis strange and sweet to see a man, O rare! - Keep full five hundred women quiet there!” - - - - - _THE VILLAGE ON THE FRONTIER._[26] - - - CHARACTERS. - - MARIA (_Maid_). - MICHIEL (_Man-servant_). - NICOLAAS (_Landlord and Burgomaster_). - LIEUTENANT EDELING. - VAN WERVE, } (_Refugees_). - CLARA (_his daughter_) } - CAPTAIN D’EGLANTIERS. - LIEUTENANT TAELINCK. - SERGEANT PLUCKX. - CORPORAL NESTEIRS. - PRIVATE PESSEREAU. - - - ACT I. - - _A Village Inn. Evening._ MICHIEL _asleep in a chair_. - -_Maria_ (_the maid—behind the scenes_). Michiel, where are you? -[_Entering._] He is lazy enough for a member of the Brussels Committee. -Michiel, get up! - -_Michiel_ (_awaking_). Well, what’s up now? - -_Maria._ Wake up, at any rate! Isn’t it perfectly scandalous to lie -there, at seven o’clock in the evening, snoring like an ox? - -_Michiel._ Does that hurt any one? - -_Maria._ Is there no work to do then? - -_Michiel._ That won’t amount to much. Travellers won’t give us any -trouble, it’s not worth their while to cross the frontier just now; and -the farmers have their money under lock and key, and not a cent about -them to take a dram with. - -_Maria._ Is there nothing else for you to do? Couldn’t you take your -rifle, in your spare time, and drill a little? Everybody is drilling -just now; there isn’t a child but can load at twelve different rates. -And you, of all others, ought to be ready to give an account of yourself -when the rebels come to pay us a visit. People on the frontier, if no -others, ought to be always in readiness. - - (_Sings_) “Only with vigilance, powder, and ball, - In time of need, one can live at all - Upon the Belgian border.” - -_Michiel._ Well! you’ve got hold of that sentiment by the wrong end. Let -me tell you the right way of it. - - “He who would live in a border place - Must always exhibit a double face. - Let the Dutch army come—we’ll fly - Old Holland’s colours right merrily; - Let the Brabanters march this way, - And the Belgian flag goes up to-day, - And so in varying order. - Not by courage or powder and ball, - By cunning alone we can live at all - Upon the Belgian border!” - -_Maria._ Do you know that you deserve to be hanged, with such infamous -principles as that? - -_Michiel._ Why, it’s just to escape hanging that I want to put them into -practice, as our schoolmaster says. - -_Maria._ Our schoolmaster used to say you were an ignorant ass; but I -see that at any rate you have remembered something. - -_Michiel._ He shall be sorry, one of these days, for having spoken of me -in that way. But, never mind that, I have a good idea. - -_Maria._ A fine one, I expect! - -_Michiel._ Just listen. We cannot help it if one party or the other -wants to annex us; so we must try and keep friends with both, and make -each of them believe we are on their side. Now, I’ve asked the -house-painter for a couple of pots of paint: there they are. You say I -never carry anything out; now you shall just see. - -_Maria._ Well—and then? - -_Michiel._ Why, you see, the Orange flag is still on the church tower? - -_Maria._ Yes; and if you dare to touch it, I’ll scratch your eyes out! - -_Michiel._ My idea was to paint it with the Brabant colours on the side -towards Brabant. If the Dutch come from the north—very good! they see -the Orange flag. If the Brabanters come from the south—very good too! -they’ll see their own colours. - -_Maria._ Well, that’s a nice invention! - -_Michiel._ Isn’t it? I think they ought to give me a prize out of the -village treasury; for in this way I am saving every one from -embarrassment. - -_Maria._ But you’ve forgotten one thing! - -_Michiel._ Forgotten! What’s that? - -_Maria._ When the wind changes, the Brabanters will see Orange, and the -Dutch the Brabant colours; and then, perhaps, both of them will bombard -the village, and you in it—which would not be the worst loss of all. - -_Michiel._ That’s true; I never thought of that. But, after all, is -there no contrivance to prevent that? With a rope, for instance? - -_Maria._ You’re a nice politician! It doesn’t do to forget that the wind -may change. So leave politics alone for the future, or I’ll tell the -master what sort of fellow you are. - -_Michiel._ Would you go and tell tales, just because I have a little -more sense than the master? He will get us all into trouble before he’s -done, because he can’t give and take. - -_Maria._ Then both of you taken together ought to make a man after your -own heart. If you ask any of the poor people hereabouts, they will tell -you whether or not he knows how to give; and if you were in his place, -you would certainly do nothing but take. - -_Michiel._ Yes; having is having, but getting’s the trick! Much good has -the master done himself, with all his giving away. Then you have the -King; what numbers of people he has helped out of his own pocket-money! -And what has he gained by it? Nothing! They are breaking his -window-panes with his own three-guilder pieces! - -_Maria._ Would you follow the example of such ungrateful wretches? - -_Michiel._ Just now the question is, What pays best? And if we are ever -to be man and wife, it will surely be necessary to scrape a little money -together first, if we want to live like decent people. - -_Maria._ We man and wife! You may make your mind easy on that point! - -_Michiel._ It’s not to be? Very good—you’ll change your mind some day, -and come asking me on your bare knees to make you my wife,—some day when -I’m a great lord, just like the man with the whale,[27] who is now a -general among the Brabanters. - -_Maria._ If being a fool and a scoundrel is enough to give a man high -rank among the rebels, you will have plenty of chances; but I won’t talk -to you any more. - -_Michiel._ Have you anything more to say? Because, if not, I’ll go to -sleep again. - -_Maria._ Nothing but this, that for the present, not being a general as -yet, you might go to Peter Kluisken’s and fetch the pig that the master -has bought. - -_Michiel._ A nice little job! To tramp all that way at this time of -night, and in the direction of the Belgian sentinels, too. Well, just -you look out; if I meet them, I bring them here—upon my word I will. - - [_Exit._ - -_Maria_ (_alone_). The scoundrel! He is quite capable of doing it. And -_he_ expects to marry me? Not if I know it. - - _Enter_ NICOLAAS, _the landlord, with a newspaper in his hand_. - -_Maria._ Well, sir, what’s the news? - -_Nicolaas._ Good news, my girl. A division of our brave North -Netherlanders is marching this way; perhaps they may even pass through -this village. - -_Maria._ That would be a pleasure. I wish some of them would stay here, -then the brigands, who yesterday were only a few miles from this place, -would never dare to show themselves. - -_Nicolaas._ I think they will keep pretty quiet for the future. - -_Maria._ Are there any more news in the paper, sir? - -_Nicolaas._ H’m! h’m! not so fast, child. [_Glances over the paper._] -They do not seem to have made up their minds yet at Brussels whom they -are going to have at the head of the Government. - -_Maria._ I can quite believe that; and I don’t think there are many men -very eager to undertake the management of such a confused state of -affairs. - -_Nicolaas._ They may seek long enough, the ungrateful hounds, before -they find another ruler under whom they will be as happy as they were -under our good old King. - -_Maria._ Any news besides, sir? - -_Nicolaas._ Do let me read in peace.... H’m! yes; they are complaining -of scarcity in all the Belgian towns. - -_Maria._ Of course they are. They may hate the Dutch, but they’ll find -they can’t get on without Dutch money. What other news is there? - -_Nicolaas._ The Powers have resolved to keep to the non-intervention -system. - -_Maria._ Non-intervention! what’s that? It must be a fine thing whatever -it is; every one is talking about it. - -_Nicolaas._ Well, how can I best explain it? It means ... not to meddle -with other people’s affairs. For instance, if your neighbour comes and -asks you to help him because his house is on fire, and you tell him to -put it out himself, for it’s no affair of yours,—that’s -non-intervention. But listen ... I hear the sound of horses’ hoofs. Who -can it be? - -_A voice outside._ Does the burgomaster live here? - -_Nicolaas._ Coming! - -[Illustration: - - “JUST COME IN, LIEUTENANT.” -] - -Maria (looking out). Lancers! lancers! - - _Enter_ EDELING, _with two lancers_. - -_Edeling._ I want to speak to the burgomaster. Does he live here? - -_Nicolaas._ Just come in, Lieutenant. Come in, gentlemen, I am very glad -to see you. What will your honour take? Maria, run to the cellar, -there’s a good girl, and bring up a bottle of the best. - - [_Exit Maria._ - -_Edeling._ Not for me, thanks; I don’t want anything. My time is short, -and so are my orders. - -_Nicolaas._ I won’t listen to a word before the gentlemen have had some -refreshment. - - _Enter_ MARIA _with wine_; NICOLAAS _opens bottle_. - -_Edeling._ I do not care for useless compliments. I am commissioned to -buy some cattle here, and bring them at once to headquarters. How many -head can you let me have, and at what price, to be paid in cash at once? - -_Nicolaas._ We will see. (_To Maria._) Is Michiel back yet? - -_Maria._ He is only just gone out. - -_Nicolaas._ Then you will have to do the errand. Run at once to Peter -Slof and Cornelis de Ruyter, and ask them to come here at once. I want -to see them about a cattle contract. Well, what are you dawdling for? - -_Maria._ Because—because——[_Looks at the lancers._] I’m so glad! [_Runs -out._] - -_Nicolaas_ (_offering wine_). Come, just one glass! - -_Edeling._ If you insist. (_Suspiciously._) Are you not going to drink -too, Burgomaster? (_Drinks._) What’s to pay? - -_Nicolaas._ Who’s talking about payment? Haven’t I even a glass of wine -to spare for our brave defenders? - -_Edeling._ Well, but you’re an innkeeper. Take these two guilders and -put them in your pocket, for it’s against orders for us to get anything -on credit. - -_Nicolaas._ And I say I won’t have the money. I can be obstinate enough, -too, when I once begin. Take it, and give it to the Government as a -voluntary subscription on my part. You don’t trust me, Lieutenant, and -that grieves me to the heart. I see I shall have to put on my Sunday -coat; perhaps that will give you more confidence. [_Fetches a coat, with -a medal on it, and puts it on. The lancers salute._] Now, do I look like -a man who would betray you? I won that at Waterloo. - -_Edeling._ Forgive me for suspecting you; but so many of your class, -especially on the frontier, have turned out traitors, that suspicion has -become a disagreeable duty. What is the general feeling in this village? - -_Nicolaas._ Not what it ought to be. I fear that, if the rebels were to -arrive, there are those, here and there, who would join them. It seems -as though people were struck with blindness; they want change at any -price. They have let themselves be persuaded that they will have no -taxes to pay under the Brabant Government. That’s the worst of the -people here; they are stupid, they don’t reason. - -_Edeling._ They don’t know any better, I suppose. Do you think your -friends will be here soon? - -_Nicolaas._ Presently, I hope. Your honour seems to be in a hurry. Is it -far to headquarters? - -_Edeling._ A couple of hours. We are to march again at daybreak -to-morrow. I am sorry we are not going farther, for I fear we shall not -meet any of the enemy. I would willingly have paid them a visit. - -_Nicolaas._ You are very eager for fighting. - -_Edeling._ Particularly so; for, besides my wish to do my duty by my -king and country, I have a private account to settle with the gentlemen -from the south. They are keeping my bride a prisoner. - -_Nicolaas._ Your bride! I thought women, at least, would have been -respected. - -_Edeling._ Her father is a well-known soldier; when the first -disturbances broke out in the place where he was in command, he gave -orders to fire on the rebels. They never forgave him, and when he had -the misfortune to fall into their hands they kept him in prison—his -daughter refusing to leave him. - - _Enter_ MARIA. - -_Maria._ Here come Peter Slof and Cornelis de Ruyter. - -_Nicolaas._ Very good! Shall we go to meet them, and look at their -beasts together? - -_Edeling._ Willingly. Thank you for doing the errand (_to Maria_.), and -here is something to remember the Lieutenant by. [_Gives her money, and -exit with Nicolaas._] - -_Maria_ (_alone_). A guilder! Well, I’ll keep that as a remembrance. A -nice man that lieutenant! One can see he comes from Holland. But who are -these strangers coming in so timidly? - - _Enter_ VAN WERVE _and_ CLARA. - -_Van Werve._ Can we get a night’s lodging here? - -_Maria._ Please don’t take it ill of me, I must ask first where your -honour comes from? We can’t take any one in for the night without first -knowing who it is we are sheltering. - -_Van Werve._ I will answer your question to the Burgomaster. Where does -he live? and can I speak to him? - -_Maria._ He lives here. The Burgomaster and the landlord are the same -person. The master will be home directly. - -_Clara._ Will you please tell us what province we are in? - -_Maria._ In North Brabant, Mejuffrouw. - -_Clara._ Thank Heaven! then you are safe, father! - -_Maria._ Safe! Then you are refugees? - -_Van Werve._ Clara! - -_Clara._ I was imprudent, father—forgive me. But I could not control my -joy at finding myself once more in our own country, after all that we -have gone through. - -_Van Werve._ I am not yet sure that we are safe here. - -_Clara._ If we had anything to fear here, I feel sure, from this girl’s -honest face, that she would not betray us. - -_Maria._ I betray you! I’d sooner die a thousand times over. But come -and sit down—you seem tired. - -_Clara._ It is true, we have been walking for a long time, and I begin -to feel it. - -_Van Werve._ My dear child, what a difficult and anxious journey you -have exposed yourself to, to save your father. (_To Maria._) Yes, my -good girl, I have been in prison,—my daughter has succeeded in saving -me, and it is to her courage and devotion I owe it that we have been -able to pass the enemy’s outposts and reach this village. - -_Maria._ It’s lucky you just happened to come to-day. A few Dutch -soldiers arrived not long ago, who will be quite ready to escort you to -a safe place, if you prefer not to stay here any longer. - -_Van Werve._ My comrades! Oh, where are they? Take me to them. - -_Maria._ I will call them,—or—wait—I think I hear them coming. - - _Enter_ EDELING. - -_Maria._ What, alone, Lieutenant? Where are the rest? - -_Edeling._ They have gone on with the oxen. I found I had left my cloak -here. But whom do I see? - -_Van Werve._ The voice seems familiar. - -_Clara_ (_hastens to him_). Edeling! - -_Edeling._ Clara!—Mijnheer van Werve!... - -_Van Werve._ So you’ve enlisted, Edeling? Well done, my boy! That is -what I should have expected of a true-born Dutchman like yourself! - -_Edeling._ Your words remind me that I am no longer my own master. I am -expected every minute at the camp. - -_Clara._ Cannot we go with you? - -_Edeling._ I have only my horse; but perhaps there is a conveyance of -some sort to be had in the village. - -_Maria._ Oh! three if you like. I will go at once to order one. - -_Van Werve._ Stop a moment, girl. I—alas!—I have no money to pay for a -conveyance. - -_Edeling._ Here is my purse—but I really must go. - -_Van Werve_ (_putting back the purse_). I must not accept it. I can -never return it. I possess nothing now. - -_Edeling._ Nothing? - -_Van Werve._ Not a cent. The little ready money we had with us we have -been obliged to spend on the road; and this morning I had the -misfortune, to leave behind—— - -_Edeling._ Well? - -_Van Werve._ My portmanteau, with my whole fortune in it, at the village -where we stopped for the night. - -_Maria._ Well, portmanteau or no portmanteau, you will have to drive, -and I’m going to fetch the carriage. - - [_Exit._ - -_Van Werve._ It was no carelessness on our part; the pursuers were at -our heels—we had no time to save anything but ourselves. - -_Edeling._ And isn’t it enough for me to see you safe, sir, you and my -Clara? Is not everything I have yours? Take my purse. As soon as you can -get a vehicle, follow me as quickly as you can, for I must not delay one -moment longer. - - _Enter_ MARIA, _hastily_. - -_Maria._ Save yourselves, for Heaven’s sake! save yourselves! they’re -coming! - -_Omnes._ Who? What? [_A noise outside._] - -_Maria._ The brigands! Don’t you hear them? They’re shouting, “_Vive de -liberteyt!_” - -_Edeling_ (_draws his pistols_). The first who dares—— - -_Maria_ (_seizes him by the arm_). Are you mad? What is the good of your -pistols against a whole band? Quick! out at the back door. (_To Van -Werve and Clara._) And you—into this room! I’ll come back to you in a -minute. - -_Edeling._ But if—— - -_Maria_ (_pushes him out at a side door_). No buts! make haste! - - [_Exit Edeling._ - -_Van Werve._ Can’t we follow him? - -_Maria._ Certainly not. He is a young fellow, and can take care of -himself. Three of you would arouse suspicion, and perhaps lead to -mischief if he tried to defend you. Just come in here. [_Opens the door -of a room on one side._] - -_Clara._ We leave our fate in your hands. - - [_Exeunt Van Werve and Clara._ - - _Enter_ MICHIEL, _bringing with him a number of Belgian volunteers, - among whom Captain D’Eglantiers, Lieutenant Taelinck, Sergeant - Pluckx, Corporal Nestiers, and Private Passereau. They speak the - broad Flemish or South Netherlands dialect, largely interspersed - with French words. On entering, all of them, including Michiel, - sing, to the air of “La Dame Blanche”_— - - Victory! Victory! - The enemy’s away! - Who conquers through sheer bravery - But Old Brabant and liberty? - Victory! Victory! - Glory and loot to-day! - -_Maria._ Well, they do look like lunatics; and there’s that villain of a -Michiel with them. - -_D’Eglantiers_ (_wiping his sword_). The victory is ours, comrades! Our -courage has repulsed the enemy, and maintained the glory of our name. -Lieutenant Taelinck, see that none of the Hollanders escape who are -hidden away here, do you hear? - -_Taelinck._ I have seen to that, Captain. All the exits are well -guarded. - -_Maria_ (_aside_). The poor quarter-master! how will he escape? - -_Michiel._ What will the gentlemen please to take? Everything in the -house is at your service. - -_Maria._ Just listen to the contemptible rascal? - -_D’Eglantiers_ (_to Michiel_). You’re a fine fellow! Just let the lass -fetch a litre of wine from the cellar. - -_Michiel._ Do you hear? Fetch wine for the gentlemen. - -_Maria_ (_treading on his toes as she goes out_). You villainous -traitor! - -_D’Eglantiers_ (_to Michiel_). Do you live in the house? - -_Michiel._ I live here, Captain. (_Aside._) I need not tell him in what -capacity. - -_D’Eglantiers._ You are a brave _citoyen_! Without you, we should never -have found the way to this village so soon. I think I might make you -Burgomaster. - -_Michiel._ Indeed you couldn’t do better, Captain. I will at once give -orders to have the Brabant flag hoisted. - - [_He is about to leave the room._] - -_D’Eglantiers._ There’s no need of that. It’s _obscur_ out of doors, and -one can’t very well distinguish the colours. But I’ll tell you what to -do. Go at once and fetch the notables of the village, and tell them to -come here to-morrow with the first _lumière_ to hold a meeting of the -council. Corporal Nestiers, go along with the Burgomaster, and whoever -does not come with you at once, _de bonne volonté_, you must bring him -by force; for liberty must triumph. - -_Michiel_ (_aside_). Michiel, Burgomaster! - -_D’Eglantiers_ (_sits down_). I shall make my headquarters here -provisionally. Let’s see—what has to be done now?... - - _Enter_ MARIA, _bringing wine_. _All sit down and drink._ - -_D’Eglantiers._ Ahem!—reports ... but who is to write them? Lieutenant -Taelinck, can you write? - -_Taelinck._ No, Captain. - -_D’Eglantiers._ Why are you a lieutenant then? - -_Taelinck._ But you can’t do it either, Captain—or read, for that -matter. - -_D’Eglantiers._ Silence! I’m a captain to give orders, not to write. -Sergeant Pluckx, can you write? - -_Pluckx._ Not I—but there’s Private Passereau, he knows how. - -_Passereau._ Plaît-il? - -_D’Eglantiers._ I’m asking if you can write. - -_Passereau._ _Verdikke!_[28] eh? - -_D’Eglantiers._ If you can write—don’t you understand? - -_Passereau._ _Je n’entends pas—verdikke!_ - -_Pluckx._ _Verdikke_ is the only word of Flemish that Passereau knows. - -_D’Eglantiers._ So he can’t write Flemish. (_To Maria._) Can you write, -my girl? - -_Maria._ At your service, Captain. - -_D’Eglantiers._ That’s curious! Sit down here, then, and write as I -dictate. - -_Maria_ (_sits down at the table—aside_). What an idea!... Yes, I think -it will do! - -_D’Eglantiers._ Write: Report.... - - _Enter_ NICOLAAS, NESTIERS, _and two others_. - -_Nestiers._ Captain, here is a fellow who has been rebelling against us. - -_D’Eglantiers._ Well—what has he been doing? - -_Nestiers._ He forcibly resisted our entrance into an _écurie_ in which -there was a lancer’s horse standing. - -_D’Eglantiers._ And where was the lancer who sat on the horse? - -_Nestiers._ He is nowhere to be found. - -_D’Eglantiers._ Well—just look through the whole village till you find -him. - - [_Exeunt Nestiers and others._ - -_D’Eglantiers_ (_to Nicolaas_). Who are you? - -_Nicolaas._ I am the Burgomaster. - -_D’Eglantiers._ The ex-burgomaster! I have put another burgomaster in -your place—do you understand? But if you will make your _soumission_ to -the Committee, then, perhaps.... - -_Nicolaas._ Never! - -_D’Eglantiers._ What!—do you know that I can have you _fusillé_? - -_Nicolaas._ So you may, if you like! - -_D’Eglantiers._ What do you say? Stop where you are—I shall have a word -to speak with you presently—do you understand? (_To Maria._) Write! - -_Nicolaas._ What! Maria, are you giving this scoundrel any help? - -_Maria._ Why not? The gentleman was in such trouble because he could not -find any one able to write. - - _D’Eglantiers._ Where did I leave off dictating? - (_Sings_) Write with care—or you’ll regret! - - _Maria._ Captain, not a word I’ve written— - You have told me nothing yet! - - _D’Eglantiers._ Write: Our army, fear-compelling, - Took six hamlets in a day. - - _Nicolaas._ Since they saw no en’my—surely - No great wonder anyway. - - _D’Eglantiers._ Of the foe full seven hundred - Fell before our conquering force! - - _Nicolaas._ Numbers which, if rightly sifted, - Come to just one lancer’s horse! - - _D’Eglantiers._ Out of all my valiant heroes - Only one has fall’n—the which— - - _Nicolaas._ As I’ve just had information, - Fell dead drunk into a ditch. - - _D’Eglantiers._ Good!—you now may cease your labours! - So!—a neat despatch you see, - Accurate and interesting, - As they always ought to be. - - _Nicolaas._ Such as all despatches be! - -_D’Eglantiers._ Well—now let us just look at it. H’m that’s written very -cleverly. Now for the proclamation. Another sheet of paper! Write: -Proclamation! Have you written that sentence? - -_Maria._ Yes—what next? - -_D’Eglantiers._ We, Captain d’Eglantiers and Lieutenant Taelinck,—to all -who are about to read these presents—salutation! - -_Maria_ (_writing_). To all who are _able_ to read these presents.... - -_D’Eglantiers._ _About_ to read, I said! Fellow-citizens! we are -bringing you _la liberté_. We have risked our life-blood to procure it -for you: we also hope that you will show yourselves _reconnaissants._... -Hey! now what do you say to such a sentence as that? That’s what I call -eloquence! - -_Maria._ Undoubtedly! That is very neatly said, Captain. - -_D’Eglantiers._ I see you’re a girl of taste and intelligence. Go on—and -that you are to give us ... give us ... everything that is necessary. -Well, that’s short and to the point, isn’t it? - -_Maria._ A very fine style, and any one can understand what is meant at -the very first reading. - -_D’Eglantiers_ (_gratified_). Can’t they just? - -_Maria._ Now you’re going to sign both papers, aren’t you, Captain? - -_D’Eglantiers._ Yes; I’ll put a little cross to them—that’s my mark. -Lieutenant Taelinck, are you going to sign them too? - -_Taelinck_ (_half asleep_). Yes, yes. [_They sign._] - -_D’Eglantiers._ Now the report must be enclosed in an envelope, and sent -to the General, and the proclamation will be posted up to-morrow. - - [_Maria hastily hides the signed paper in her dress, and folds - another, which she hands to D’Eglantiers._] - -_Maria._ Here you are, Captain. (_Aside._) I have it all right. - -_D’Eglantiers_ (_hands the paper to Private Passereau_). Get on your -horse at once, and take this paper to the General. - -_Passereau._ _Verdikke! Dans la nuit_—— - -_D’Eglantiers._ Go at once! [_Exit Passereau._] Well, that’s finished. -Now I’ll go and get an hour or two’s sleep. You’ll call me, my good -girl, when the council is assembled, won’t you? - -_Maria._ Yes; and in the meantime I will go and post up the -proclamation. - -_D’Eglantiers_ (_takes it hastily from her, and puts it into his -pocket_). No; I must first read it out, or have it read, to the council. -Now, where is my bedroom? - - [_He is about to go into Van Werve’s room._] - -_Maria_ (_quickly_). No, not there. The left-hand door, sir. - - [_Points to a door on the opposite side._] - -_Nicolaas_ (_aside_). I don’t understand it. Why does she want to put -that fellow into my bedroom? (_Aloud._) Maria, are you mad! the other -room is—— - -_Maria_ (_interrupting him quickly_). Just suited to a prisoner. - -_D’Eglantiers_ (_pointing to Nicolaas_). Then he must be put in there. - -_Nicolaas._ But—— - -_Maria_ (_quickly, aside to Nicolaas_). Leave it to me! - -_D’Eglantiers._ Good-night! (_Turning to the Volunteers._) If Nestiers -comes with the portmanteau, tell him to bring it into my room. Do you -hear? - - [_Nicolaas goes into the room in which Van Werve and Clara are - hidden, while Maria takes a candle and shows D’Eglantiers into - the left-hand bedroom._] - -_Taelinck_ (_crouching over the fire_). B-rrr! it’s famously cold! - -_Pluckx._ I believe you! The Government really ought to provide us with -better clothing. - -_Taelinck._ That’s just the beauty of liberty, that every one has to -look out for himself. - -_Pluckx._ And that’s just what I mean to do, so soon as that girl comes -back. - -_Edeling_ (_appears in the doorway and looks in_). These fellows are -everywhere! I am caught in a trap. - -_Pluckx._ But just tell us now, Lieutenant, who is supposed to be -governing us at the present moment? for every day I hear of a fresh -sovereign, who has been recommended to us. - -_Taelinck._ Who is governing us? Why, Liberty! - -_Pluckx._ I shan’t be sorry to see some change, then; for I haven’t yet -seen the colour of Liberty’s money. I think the lass must be very hard -up. - - _Enter_ MARIA. - -_Maria_ (_aside_). Is this rabble going to stay here all right? - -_Pluckx._ I say, my girl, look here. Have you got a blanket or rug you -could let me have? - -_Maria._ What for? - -_Pluckx._ You’ll soon see that—_comprenez_? - -_Maria._ I have; if you will be sure to give it back. - -_Pluckx._ Oh! you shall have it back soon. - -_Maria_ (_takes a blanket out of a chest_). Here is one; but you shall -not have it, unless you give me your tunic as a pledge that you will -return it. - -_Pluckx._ Come, none of that chatter! - -_Maria._ Gently, gently! You have seen that the Captain lets me write -his proclamations for him. Nothing would be easier than for me to put in -a word against you, if you don’t behave yourselves. - -_Taelinck._ The girl is right, Pluckx. - -_Pluckx._ Well, here’s my _sarrau_, then! It’s not a bad exchange. [_He -gives his tunic to Maria, and cuts three slits in the blanket._] - -_Maria._ What’s that for? - -_Pluckx._ A new-fashioned overcoat for the winter. [_Puts his head and -arms through the slits. All laugh except Maria._] - -_Maria._ Well, as you’ve spoilt my blanket for me, you shall not have -your tunic back either. - - _Enter_ NESTIERS. - -_Nestiers._ Come, men, here are your billets; and here (_laying it on -the floor_) is the Captain’s portmanteau. - -_Pluckx._ You mean the portmanteau that the Captain looted this morning. - -_Maria and Edeling_ (_aside_). Is it possible? - -_Taelinck._ Well, be quick and give out your billets. I’m going to stay -here. I suppose there’s a second bed in the Captain’s room? - -_Maria._ Surely. - -_Taelinck._ _Allons donc!_ Right-about march! Place a sentry outside the -front door, and see that no one goes in or out without permission from -the Captain or me. - - [_Goes into D’Eglantiers’ room with the portmanteau. The others - retire. Enter_ EDELING, _to whom Maria hands Passereau’s tunic, - in which he escapes_.] - -ACT II. - -_Middle of night._ D’EGLANTIERS _alone with the portmanteau under his -arm and a candlestick in his hand_. - -_D’Eglantiers._ I see they’ve brought me the portmanteau. Let’s seize -the golden moment, while old Taelinck lies snoring like an ox, to -inspect the contents a bit. [_Breaks the lock, and rummages through the -portmanteau, taking out a necktie or some similar article, which he puts -on._] What do I see? This seems to be a handsome capture! And I’ll be -hanged if these are not Government bonds! _Ma foi!_ Now I’m a rich man, -and can let the service slide with an easy mind! I shall lose nothing by -resigning—no one ever got his pay out of a Provisional Government! -However, we must keep a sharp look-out, and not let any of my comrades -find out what has been in here! All honest fellows, no doubt, but -suffering from the same complaint as myself! Where shall I hide the -packets? The portmanteau won’t lock now; and, besides, several of them -have seen it already. - - [_Remains standings with the bonds in his hands. Enter_ MARIA.] - -_Maria._ Up already, Captain? - -_D’Eglantiers_ (_starts, and tries to hide the papers_). What,—what is -it? - -_Maria_ (_aside_). That’s the portmanteau in question. (_Aloud._) -Nothing, Captain; I came to see if you wanted anything. - -_D’Eglantiers._ Nothing! or,—wait! (_Looking at her attentively. -Aside._) The girl seems trustworthy ... otherwise ... yes, I suppose -that will be best! - -_Maria_ (_aside_). What is he considering with himself? - -_D’Eglantiers._ My good girl, I have here some of the army reports; -could you tell me of a safe place, where no one comes poking and prying -round, and where I can _cacher_ them in safety till my departure? - -_Maria_ (_aside_). He’s running into the trap of his own accord. (_To -D’Eglantiers, pointing to the cupboard._) Shall I hide them in here, -under the house linen? But in that case you must give your men orders -not to go about plundering my cupboards. - -_D’Eglantiers._ I’ll promise you that, but just open it. - - [_Maria opens the cupboard; D’Eglantiers hides the bonds inside - it._] - -_Maria._ I think, Captain, that packet must contain something more than -reports and general orders! - -_D’Eglantiers._ No, it really does not, by—— - -_Maria._ Well, I’ll believe you; so you need not swear about it. But it -looked to me rather like bonds. [_Locks the cupboard, and is about to -put the key in her pocket, but D’Eglantiers prevents her._] - -_D’Eglantiers._ Stop! I keep that key, do you hear? - -_Maria._ Do you, sir? they’re bonds! Otherwise you would not be so much -afraid of losing them! - -_D’Eglantiers._ Yes, if that were true—— - -_Maria._ Then you wouldn’t be captain of a volunteer company, would you? - -_D’Eglantiers._ No, certainly not! - -_Maria._ No, if you were only rich, you’d already be a Member of -Congress,—perhaps even of the Provisional Government.... - -_D’Eglantiers._ Yes; I do really think, if I were richer—— - -_Maria._ Not a doubt about it! A man of your talents and your eloquence -would certainly have reached a high rank at Brussels, but for the want -of means. - -_D’Eglantiers._ You’re flattering me; but, after all, think of the -numbers of conceited fools that have been elected to Congress! They do -nothing but talk and mismanage matters. - -_Maria._ I really think that you ought to be there, sir. It’s quite a -mistake your not going! Brussels is the only place fit for you. - -_D’Eglantiers._ I tell you once more, you’re a flatterer; but I promise -you one thing,—as soon as I’ve hoisted the Brabant flag on the church -tower of this village, I’ll go to Brussels and ask for my discharge. - -_Maria_ (_aside_). A pleasant journey to you,—so long as the bonds -remain here! - - _Enter_ TAELINCK. - -_Taelinck._ You’re up early, Captain? - -_D’Eglantiers._ Yes, yes, good-morning! (_Looking sideways at the -portmanteau._) May the devil—— - -_Taelinck._ It seems to me you’ve been looking out for yourself already. -Was the portmanteau quite empty like that? - -_D’Eglantiers_ (_somewhat embarrassed_). Well, there wasn’t much in it. - -_Taelinck._ You’re not a man of your word, Captain! You promised that we -should share and share alike, whatever was in it. - -_D’Eglantiers._ When there is nothing, there’s nothing to share; do you -hear? - -_Taelinck._ You might at least have waited to open it till I was there. - -_D’Eglantiers._ Lieutenant, you’re becoming insolent; you’re forgetting -discipline! - -_Taelinck._ I shall let the General know that you keep all the loot to -yourself. - -_D’Eglantiers._ There stands the girl,—ask; let her _témoigner_ whether -there was anything in it but—— - -_Maria._ But eight linen shirts, which the Captain gave me to put away -in the cupboard. Shall I get them out, Captain? - -_D’Eglantiers._ Yes, yes,—here’s the key! (_Aside._) That’s a little -jewel of a girl! - - [_Maria opens the cupboard, and takes out a pile of shirts, which - she drops on the floor. While the two officers are busy picking - them up, she hides the bonds under her apron._] - -_Maria._ There they are,—eight of them! - -_Taelinck._ That’s five for me,—but was there nothing more? - -_Maria._ Nothing. [_She locks the cupboard, and returns the key to -D’Eglantiers._] - -_D’Eglantiers_ (_aside to Maria_). If I ever get into the Government, -I’ll see that you have a pension. - -_Maria._ I should like to ask you something, sir. First, about the -landlord,—my master, you know,—the man you took prisoner yesterday, and -who is in that room; will you set him free again? - -_D’Eglantiers._ H’m! h’m! a rebel like that? but, since you ask it ... -well, go and fetch him! - -_Maria._ And in the second place, will you let my sister and my uncle, -who are sleeping here, go back to their own village undisturbed? - -_D’Eglantiers._ Where do they live? - -_Maria._ Why ... not very far off. - -_D’Eglantiers._ Well, if they lived at the other end of nowhere, I -should let them go, since it is you that ask it! - -_Maria._ Very good; I’ll go at once and tell them. - - [_Exit._ - -_D’Eglantiers_ (_aside_). That’s the right sort of girl! she’s saved me -from all my anxiety. - -_Taelinck_ (_aside_). I don’t feel anything like easy about that affair -of the cupboard! - - _Enter_ NICOLAAS. - -_Nicolaas._ Captain, the maid tells me you have given orders for my -release. - -_D’Eglantiers._ Yes; because that girl asked me, I’ve let you go, but -mind what you’re about next time. The council is going to assemble here, -and you may vote with the rest, because I want liberty to flourish. - - _Enter_ PLUCKX. - -_Pluckx._ Captain! here’s the council; are you ready for them? - -_D’Eglantiers._ Yes, yes, let them come; but,—I tell you what,—let ten -or a dozen of our men come in too, so as to maintain full liberty during -the discussions; do you hear? - -_Pluckx._ Very good, Captain. - - [_Pluckx goes out, and returns with the principal men of the - village, headed by Michiel, as Burgomaster, and some - Volunteers._] - -_Nicolaas_ (_to Michiel_). What in the devil’s name are you doing here? -Look alive, and get to the stables! - -_Michiel._ Why, master, are you there? That’s lucky. I’ll have you for -my man-of-all-work, master! - -_Nicolaas._ Why, man, are you gone wrong in your head? or—— - -_Michiel._ Not at all! The Captain here has made me Burgomaster of the -village;—so you see, sir, that things look very bad for you. - -_D’Eglantiers._ Silence! The council is going to be opened, and every -one is to sit down. - - [_The “Notables,” with Michiel in their midst, sit down in a circle, - while D’Eglantiers takes his place at a table, with Taelinck by - his side._] - -_D’Eglantiers._ The _séance_ must be public, as is the proper thing for -all liberal governments. - -_Nicolaas._ Of course—so that every one can hear the nonsense that is -talked. - -_D’Eglantiers._ Therefore, Pluckx, open the door; but don’t let every -one in, or the room will be overcrowded, you understand? - -_Nicolaas._ A very wise precaution! - - [_The front door and shutters are opened. It is daylight._] - -_D’Eglantiers._ Citizens! in the name of the Government, I offer you _la -liberté_, _les lumières_, _et l’ordre légal_. Do you understand that? - -_The Schoolmaster._ It seems to mean the same thing as freedom, -enlightenment, and law and order. - -_Nicolaas_ (_standing up_). Surely, sir, it is scarcely necessary to -give us what we have possessed for a long time already! - -_D’Eglantiers._ Silence! I bring you liberty in all things,—no more -coercion,—no more monopoly! Education and trade are free. Is there a -school here? - -_The Schoolmaster._ Certainly, sir, the Society for National Education— - -_D’Eglantiers._ Done away with! Abolished! The parents are free from -henceforth, and, as a natural consequence, the children also. No more -schools; at any rate, none of the National Education Society’s! - -_Nicolaas._ That I am quite willing to believe. - -_D’Eglantiers._ Silence! Is there any factory in this _commune_? - -_Nicolaas._ There are six, in which hundreds of people earn their -living. - -_D’Eglantiers._ Monopoly must be abolished. Every one ought to be -allowed freely to make what he likes. Therefore all the factories must -be sacked. - -_Nicolaas._ The factories sacked? Is that the freedom you are bringing -us? (_Turning to the Notables._) And you are going to allow this? -(_Confusion in the meeting._) - -_D’Eglantiers._ Silence! _Volontaires!_ the first man that contradicts, -you are to shoot through the head. Otherwise free discussion becomes an -impossibility. - - [_The Volunteers take aim._] - -_Michiel_ (_quaking with terror_). Of course—the Cap—Captain is right. -The—(_in confusion_)—the factories must take his word for it. What a -kind amiable man the Captain is! Long live the Captain! - -_D’Eglantiers._ All the ready money in the village must at once be -placed in my hands, in order to clothe my valiant troops. - -_Nicolaas._ They can take care of themselves in that respect (_Points at -Pluckx._) - -_D’Eglantiers._ All the wine and provisions in the place must be -presented to my troops as a voluntary gift. - -_Nicolaas._ Anything else? - -_D’Eglantiers._ All swords, guns, knives, spades, axes, pickaxes, -ploughshares—in short, all iron tools must be handed over to me. - -_Nicolaas._ He’s not hard to please, _he_ isn’t. - -_D’Eglantiers._ And the council is to deliberate whether it would not be -well to send in an address declaring their submission to the Government. - -_Michiel._ A very good idea. - -_Nicolaas._ I should like to say a word. - -_D’Eglantiers._ Speak up! - -_Taelinck._ He can’t speak. He is only the ex-Burgomaster; he is not -entitled to a share in the proceedings. - -_D’Eglantiers._ Never mind—let him speak as one not entitled. - -_Nicolaas._ If I may speak without danger, I should like to ask what -_is_ the Government that we are to submit to? I have already heard some -half-dozen sovereigns mentioned; and really I should not be surprised if -you had offered the crown to a Chinese mandarin. - -_D’Eglantiers._ Tut! tut! all you’ve got to do is to submit—it doesn’t -matter to whom. That’s not your business. - -_Nicolaas._ Then I vote against such an absurdity. - -_The Schoolmaster and others._ So do I! so do I! - -_D’Eglantiers._ I shall put you under arrest if you don’t vote as I tell -you. - -_Nicolaas._ Is that what you understand by liberty? - -_D’Eglantiers._ You are at liberty to talk as much as you like, but you -must vote as I wish. - -_Nicolaas._ I thought you were more liberal than that, Captain! - -_D’Eglantiers._ I can’t waste time arguing with you. [_Takes the -proclamation out of his pocket._] Here’s my manifesto. Let the -Burgomaster read it out loud. - -_Michiel._ Silence! Let every one listen! (_Reads._) “Proclamation,—We, -Captain D’Eglantiers——” - -_D’Eglantiers._ That’s me, standing here. - -_Michiel_ (_reads_). “And Lieutenant Taelinck——” - -_Taelinck._ Here’s the man you’re reading about, _compère!_ - -_Michiel._ “To all that shall read these presents, salutation! -salutation!” (_Bows._) - -_D’Eglantiers and Taelinck._ Salutation! - -_Michiel_ (_reads_). “Citizens! a Dutch army, ten thousand strong, is -marching on this village!” What’s this? - -_D’Eglantiers._ That’s not on the paper, you scoundrel! - - [_General consternation._] - -_Michiel._ It is there—read for yourself! - -_D’Eglantiers._ Then it’s a forged document—_parbleu!_ - -_Pluckx_ (_examines the paper_). It’s signed by you and the Lieutenant, -sir. - -_All._ Go on! go on! - -_Michiel_ (_reads_). “As I am not in a position, with the forces at my -disposal, to withstand so powerful an enemy, I hope you will not take it -ill of me if I beat a retreat——” - -_All._ Well, now! - -_Michiel_ (_reads_). “Within a quarter of an hour!” - -_Nicolaas._ A pleasant journey to you! - -_D’Eglantiers._ What sort of an infernal thing is this? [_Snatches the -paper out of Michiel’s hand. Aside to Taelinck._] Yes, indeed, there’s -my mark! - -_Taelinck._ And mine, too! - -_D’Eglantiers._ Then the girl has cheated us! - -_Pluckx._ If ten thousand men are marching on us, the best thing we can -do is to march off in the other direction. - -_Nicolaas._ And we will go to meet them. - -_Michiel._ Yes, we’ll escort them in in triumph! - - [_All the Notables, and the majority of the Volunteers, leave the - house._] - -_D’Eglantiers._ What the——! What are you doing! Stay here! It’s all a -swindle! - - _Enter_ MARIA, _with_ VAN WERVE _and_ CLARA, _disguised as_ _peasants_. - -_Maria._ Captain, here are my sister and my uncle, who—— - -_D’Eglantiers._ Here! you child of Satan! I’ll sister and uncle you! -What sort of a paper is this that you’ve written? Come, now! - -_Maria_ (_aside_). The fat’s in the fire now, and no mistake! - -_D’Eglantiers._ Answer me! what sort of a paper is it? - -_Maria._ Why, sir, haven’t you read it? - -_D’Eglantiers._ I’ve heard it read, and—— - -_Maria._ Did you let it go out of your own hands? - -_D’Eglantiers._ Insolent, too? Who’s asking questions, you or I? - -_Maria._ A word in confidence, Captain? [_Draws him aside._] Don’t you -understand?—that was a trick of mine to—— - -_D’Eglantiers._ A trick?—a fine trick! I’ll—— - -_Maria._ Hush! hush! do! I knew that the Dutch troops were coming, and -in order to let you know it privately I wrote it down on that paper. I -hoped you would read it by yourself, and then act as circumstances might -demand. - -_D’Eglantiers._ Well—in that case! But it is strange, though—— - - _Enter_ PLUCKX. - -_Pluckx._ Captain, it’s time for you to show yourself. Half of our men -want to leave, and the villagers are beginning to arm! - -_D’Eglantiers._ What the——[_Breaks off, and looks towards the -cupboard._] I must get hold of my bonds first. Lieutenant Taelinck, go -on. I’ll follow immediately. - -_Taelinck_ (_also looking at the cupboard_). Aren’t you coming with us, -Captain? - -_D’Eglantiers._ Presently, presently. - - [_Taelinck goes out slowly, followed by Pluckx. D’Eglantiers runs to - the cupboard, opens it, and searches in vain for the packet._] - -_Maria_ (_aside_). What shall I do now? Wait!—I have it. - - [_Hastens out and comes back with Taelinck._] - -_Maria_ (_to Taelinck_). It is just as I told you—the Captain has been -hiding gold and jewels in that cupboard. - -_Taelinck_ (_comes forward, and taps D’Eglantiers on the shoulder_). -Well, Captain, what have you got there, say? - -_D’Eglantiers_ (_surprised_). Eh! what? - - [_Turns round, and seeing Taelinck, hurriedly closes the cupboard._] - -_Taelinck._ You’ve hidden our booty there,—that’s quite clear. Open that -door again, and look sharp about it. - -_D’Eglantiers._ What’s the good?—there’s no money in it. - -_Taelinck._ I’ll report you! - -_D’Eglantiers._ I won’t give you the chance! [_Draws his sword._] - -_Taelinck_ (_defends himself_). You miserable thief. - - [_They fight. Van Werve and Clara are about to take the opportunity - of escaping, when Pluckx enters with his men._] - -_Pluckx._ What! fighting here? Why, the Hollanders are coming! - -_D’Eglantiers._ What! Where? When? - - [_Shouts of “Oranje boven!”[29] outside. Van Werve rushes at - Taelinck and disarms him._] - -_Van Werve._ Yes!—“Oranje boven!” - -_Pluckx._ Here they come! _Sauve qui peut!_ - - [_Tries to escape by the front door._] - -_D’Eglantiers._ Where’s the back door? - -_Maria_ (_calls after him_). Don’t forget your bonds, whatever you do! - - [_As D’Eglantiers attempts to leave by the back door, Michiel - enters, accompanied by several Soldiers, and knocks him down - with a pitchfork, while Taelinck is being held by Van Werve. - Edeling, Nicolaas, Soldiers, and Armed Villagers enter by the - front door, and disarm Pluckx and the rest of the Belgians._] - -_Michiel._ Halt! Captain! you were mistaken after all! “Oranje boven!” - -_D’Eglantiers._ Traitor of a Burgomaster! - -_Edeling._ My Clara! - -_Michiel._ See there! I knew we should catch them. - -_Nicolaas_ (_to the Dutch leader, pointing at Michiel_). Captain, you -had better secure this rascal! it was he who brought the rebels here. - -_Michiel_ (_as he is seized by the Dutch_). How! what?—why, I showed you -the way myself! - -_Maria._ The pitcher to the well—Michiel! - - [_The insurgents and Michiel are led away._] - -_Edeling_ (_seeing Maria_). Good-morning, my lass—didn’t I come back to -see you, as I said I would? (_To the others._) This is the girl who -helped me to escape. - -_Van Werve._ She has served us all. - - VAN LENNEP. - - - - - _PROVERBS._ - - -He who lives with cripples learns to limp. - -The best steersman stands ashore. - -Self is the man. - -He gives an egg to get a chicken. - -They are not all princes who ride with the emperor. - -He howls with the wolves when he is in the wood, and bleats with the -sheep in the field. - -A little too late, much too late. - -Stand still a while, you lose a mile. - -The nearer Rome the worse Christian. - -Call no herring before he’s in the net. - -He who has choice has anxiety. - -Don’t put too many eggs under one hen. - -If fools were silent they’d be wise. - -No man dies of threats. - -The fowl that cackles most does not lay most eggs. - -No mad dog ever ran for seven years. - -One can see by the stockings whose leg is broken. - -You should hang your cloak towards the wind. - -No man ever limped for another’s sore foot. - -It’s ill stealing where the host is a thief. - -’Tis ill eating cherries with lords. - -When slovenly people turn over a new leaf they polish the bottoms of the -saucepans. - -What belongs to the ravens[30] will never drown. - -All offices are greasy.[31] - -What the sow does the little pigs must pay for. - -With much pounding the stockfish becomes tender. - -No man sees his own hump-back. - -’Tis an ill water, said the horse, for he could not swim. - -’Tis an ill morsel that chokes one. - -Let them pump who are cold, I have my coat on.[32] - -All that come of cats will go mewing. - -Let the plover peck, I have the eggs in my hat. - -Though the ape should wear a golden ring, yet he is an ugly thing. - -He who has a fine cat should bring no furrier into his house. - -Lands become sand, sands become land. (_Landen versanden, sanden -verlanden._ An epitome of the physical history of Holland.) - -The greater jurist the worse Christian. - -When the gnats dance in January the farmer comes to beggary. - -Beware of a fair Spaniard and a swarthy Englishman. - -Better sit still with an owl than fly with a falcon. - -The first man in the boat has the choice of oars. - -It’s the third strand that holds the cable. - -Man overboard—an eater the less. - -A tired horse would rather see a dirty stable than a clean high-road. - -A woman’s hair pulls worse than the main-topsail. - -At Boulogne there are more traps than mice. - -White and black[33] were the making of Venice. - - A hundred Dutchmen, a hundred knives. - A hundred Frenchmen, no knives. - A hundred Scots, two hundred knives.[34] - -In Italy—too many feasts, too many chiefs, too many storms. - - The Spaniard seems wise, and is not. - The Frenchman seems a fool, and is not. - The Italian seems wise, and is so. - The Portuguese seems a fool, and is so.[35] - -A husband’s mother is the devil on the floor. - -A house full of daughters is a cellar full of sour beer. - -’Tis easy piping to those who love dancing. - -Smoke, bad air, and scolding wives, are what drive men out of the house. - - - - - _A DUTCH PODSNAP._ - - -“A glass of wine, mamma?” - -“No, thank you, papa.” - -“You, Caroline?” - -“No, thank you, papa.” - -“Frederica?” - -“No, thank you, papa.” - -Ditto, ditto, for Marie, Antoinette, and Hortense. - -“Hendriek doesn’t take any wine?” - -“Oh! no, papa.” - -“And my Lijsje?” - -“Oh! it would be dreadful, papa!” - -Mijnheer Van Arlen, having gone through this ceremony, half-filled his -glass, filled it up with water, and then carefully corked the bottle, to -be put away for to-morrow. In this way it would be made to last ten -days, and as a rule it did so; for the above invitation to his wife and -seven daughters was renewed every day, and every day regularly declined. -However, there were some exceptions to this rule: in the first place, -when papa was on a journey. Every year papa had to take a journey for -the Minister; it was a mission of mysterious importance, whose -destination no one was to know. It always came off quite unexpectedly, -immediately after the receipt of his second quarter’s salary. On these -occasions the bottle, if it still contained any wine, was emptied by the -family, and papa’s own particular tumbler—a most precious one, of ruby -glass, with a flower-pattern, and the initials H. M. engraved on it—put -away in the china-cupboard for the space of ten days. For this -unexpected, mysterious, and important journey always lasted exactly ten -days, during which time the daughters enjoyed the mild joke of calling -their mother “Madame Veuve,” and were solemnly requested by her not to -do it, for, as she said, it was a sort of joke that always sent a cold -shudder through her. She preferred being called “little bride,” which -took place once a year, on her wedding-day, an occasion which formed the -second of the exceptions referred to above. On this occasion papa always -provided mamma with the surprise of a glass of port at dinner, and all -the seven daughters had some too, though in their hearts they would have -preferred not taking it, for they detested it—and it always gave one -such a colour in the evening! - -The third exception—which was only half a one—occurred when papa had a -relation or a friend from out of town on a visit, when mamma would take -a glass; and then the bottle had to be finished, for wine only turns -flat if it is left standing. - -To-day, however, was merely an ordinary day. Papa had received no -instructions as to his journey, and the wedding anniversary was some -time off; though the friend from out of town was expected, and might -arrive any week. He was something more than a friend—he was a late -brother-in-law; for Mevrouw Van Arlen—Hortense Muggenhout, as denoted by -the initials on the tumbler—had had a younger sister, who had married -Heer Van Noost Prigson, a most respectable man, as appears from his -double-barrelled name, which was never forgotten, either by himself or -the Van Arlen family. Mijnheer Van Noost Prigson had lost his wife not -long after the birth of his only son. - -Uncle Van Noost Prigson had written to-day he would come; but he was a -man of business,—of much business,—and he wrote so quickly that -three-fourths of each of his letters were illegible. Fortunately, papa -was also a man of business, and in his responsible position was brought -into contact with so many matters—cipher, among others—that he was able -to read the writing of Uncle Van Noost Prigson, at least the greater -part of it. This time, however, the most important part of uncle’s -letter was in figures, and he always made his figures very indistinctly. -He said he might possibly come on the 3rd (it might also have been the -8th), unless it were the 10th—or (for the figures might equally well -have stood for that) the 21st—while at the end of the letter he added, -with equal distinctness, that it was to be between the 14th and 16th, -for which again one might have read the 24th and 26th. Equally uncertain -was the duration of his visit; its purpose, indeed, was explained, and -this papa thought fit to keep to himself. It must surely be a matter of -importance, thought the eight ladies, for the thought that he—with his -vast experience of all sorts of business—should have failed to decipher -this part of the letter never entered their heads for a moment. - -Papa filled a most important office,—it was in the year 1846,—and in -consequence of one thing or another, perhaps in connection with the -mysterious journeys, he had, one 6th of December, received a token that -the State appreciated his services. Since that day, the said token had -been inseparable from the black coat, without which no one ever saw -Mijnheer Van Arlen. It was quite in harmony with the impressive wrinkle -on his forehead, which looked as though Van Arlen had for years been -staring upward in a bent position,—in harmony, too, with the compressed -lips, which seemed in continual fear of letting a State secret escape; -while his hair had become quite white, probably from the anxiety -occasioned by the weighty matters which occupied his head. The daughters -found in papa the type of a handsome man, and at the same time of a -thoroughly respectable one; mamma adored him with the enthusiasm which -every good housewife is bound to feel for her husband, and never spoke -of him except as “Mijnheer Van Arlen.” Conversely, he always referred to -his wife as “_Mevrouw mijne echtgenoote_;”[36] and he preferred to -allude to his daughters in numerical order, unwilling to admit the outer -world to so great a degree of familiarity as to speak to it of his -daughters by their Christian names. - -Either the bottle had stood too long on this particular day, or some -other cause had spoilt Van Arlen’s taste for it; anyhow, he did not -finish his glass, and, when dinner was over, fixed a penetrating gaze on -the door, and remained silent. - -“Are you not well, papa?” asked Caroline. - -“Quite well, my child!” - -“Difficult business?” asked Mevrouw, sympathetically. - -“Oh! all business is difficult, mamma,” said Van Arlen, weightily, and -stared into nothing more perseveringly than ever. - -Mamma sighed, and the daughters looked sadly at papa. Could Uncle Van -Noost Prigson’s letter be the cause of the trouble? - -“Will you have any dessert, papa?” - -The dessert was standing ready, as usual, on the small side-table. A box -of flat biscuits, a butter-dish, a corner of cheese under a glass cover, -and a little dish of fruit, or, if there was none to be had, of -preserved ginger. But papa did not care for dessert, and never took any, -except when the above-mentioned relation or intimate friend from the -country was present; for “a dinner is not complete without dessert.” - -“No, thank you, my dear? Will you?” - -“Oh! you know I never do. Shall we say grace?” - -Grace was said, reverent and short, as is befitting in a house where a -good tone prevails, and papa folded up his napkin neatly, and laid it -beside his plate; whereupon Leida fetched the matches, and gave papa a -light, which he accepted with a gracious nod, just as he had done -yesterday, and the day before, and all the year round, with the -exceptions aforesaid. Then eighteen-year-old Leida gave her papa a light -kiss on his forehead, just above the broad wrinkle. - -“Why, papa! you must not be so gloomy; just let me kiss the trouble -away,” said she. - -“What tricks next?” asked papa, sportively; and mamma called her a -monkey, and all the six sisters thought it such a good thing that Leida -was in such spirits, and had such a knack of getting papa into a -cheerful humour. - -Van Arlen lit his cigar, and went slowly and thoughtfully to his own -room, whither he was called by his weighty official cares, and where a -mysterious locked portfolio lay ready for him. He turned the key in the -lock, sat down in his easy-chair, and went to sleep. He was quite right -to lock himself in,—a State secret might so easily have escaped him in -his sleep,—nay more, the secret of his after-dinner nap, which was -entirely unknown to his household and the outer world, might have leaked -out. About half-past seven there was a modest knock at the door; the -person knocking waited patiently till all the State secrets should be -covered up; and when the door was opened, the table before Van Arlen was -strewn with papers. The inkstand, however, remained on the mantelpiece. - -But she who entered the room suspected no deception, and was not on the -look-out for traces of it. Year after year it had been Mevrouw Van -Arlen’s habit to bring her husband his “first cup” at this hour, and the -ten minutes which he was accustomed to give her served for the -discussion of domestic matters. Papa listened attentively to what mamma -had spent on milk and on bread, on peas and beans and matches,—nothing -is too small for a great man,—and then handed out the exact amount from -the secret drawer of his writing-table. - -“And then, papa, Caroline and Frederica and Marie ought to have new -hats.” - -“And the three others?” - -“They can have the old hats of the three eldest done up with new -trimmings.” - -“And what becomes of _their_ old ones?” - -“They can use them for every day.” - -Van Arlen tried to form in his own mind a visible picture of the change; -but his habit of considering affairs of State somewhat dimmed and -confused his sight in matters of everyday life. - -“I do not rightly understand you, my dear. It seems to me that the three -eldest might just as well have the hats of the next three, as the next -three have the hats of the elder ones passed on to them.” - -“Caroline, Frederica, and Marie are the eldest.” - -“Is that a reason, mamma? Let us take, as our fundamental principle, -impartiality. Let us act without respect of persons—it is a wise rule, a -guarantee for the stability both of a government and a household. Let us -give no occasion for jealousy by measuring with two different measures.” - -“But, papa——” - -“Believe me, my dear, parents who show partiality are sowing the seeds -of unfriendly feeling, discord, hatred. Let us be wise, and not bow to -any antiquated principle of primogeniture. What human experience has -found to be fatal in society, must not be introduced into our smaller -circle by us, the individual units of society.” - -“But in that case they might as well all keep their own hats, and trim -them up afresh.” - -“Let it be so.” - -How mamma was to settle matters with her daughters was her business; the -head of the family was concerned solely with the legislative, not with -the executive department. - -“And Leida must keep her old hat because she has been so untidy; but she -will have to have a new ribbon on it.” - -Van Arlen nodded assent. - -They must have been great men who first preached impartiality, and -abolished the right of primogeniture. Here, in this individual instance, -was a saving of three new hats,—what economy would be effected by the -application of the system to a whole State! - -“And you yourself, mamma?” - -“I have been thinking of keeping on the mourning for another year. My -black dresses are all quite good still.” - -“And we were so fond of poor Cornelia! When the mourning is worn out the -dead are forgotten, people say. We must show that it is not the case -with us.” - -“Or that we have been careful of our clothes,” Van Arlen might have -added; but though this inference did not enter his head, another did. - -“So we shall not go out this year?” - -“I’m sorry, for the girls’ sakes; but it really is a duty. But, all the -same, we must not keep them quite shut up either.” - -“No, of course not.” - -Mijnheer and Mevrouw Van Arlen were silent for a little. - -“We must not keep them shut up,” repeated the mother, thoughtfully. “Do -you think it possible you might some time be transferred, Van Arlen?” - -“Oh, Hortense! don’t ask such questions.” - -“It is not out of curiosity, but in the interest of our family. You are -in such favourable relations with people in high positions.” - -“What do you think is the cause of this, mamma?” - -“Well, your knowledge, your ability, your great——” - -“Do you think that a man possessing such qualities—mind I don’t say I -possess them—has much chance of being sent away to a distance?” - -“No, but—it is hard.” - -“It may be hard,—but when a man is indispensable—I don’t say that I am -indispensable—he has to put up with it. The feeling that he is doing his -duty conscientiously to the State, ought to have most weight with -him,—and it certainly makes things easier.” - -Van Arlen finished his tea, and handed the empty cup to his wife—the -usual sign that the audience was over. - -“Another cup?” - -“Yes, please—but no sugar.” - -This condition was as stereotyped as the dessert; papa only took one cup -with sugar; the ladies did not care for sugar, except at evening -parties, when they took it to prevent mistakes and confusion. - -Van Arlen then went to work,—read, signed documents, made a note here, -and drew his pen through a sentence there,—and became so absorbed in his -work that he never heard Marie come in on tiptoe, to set down the humble -domestic cup of tea on the table covered with State documents. At the -stroke of half-past nine Van Arlen rose, and once more made his -appearance in the family sitting-room, where an old-fashioned card-table -had been set out. After working all day, he found that his mind needed -some relaxation. His wife and two of the daughters,—who took turns in -this, as in other things, were already seated; the cards were dealt, and -he had only to begin. They were playing whist for recreation, and not -for money—therefore no reckoning was necessary; but the marking was done -with laudable accuracy, and every mistake was severely reproved—for the -furthering of every one’s enjoyment; for enjoyment without seriousness -does not deserve the name. - -Papa never spoke a word except what was required by the game, and did -not like any talking to go on in the room; so that the five daughters -who were not playing, sat silent round the big table, each with her -needlework, thinking about the hats they were not to have, the mourning -that their mother was to go on wearing, the ball to which they were not -invited, the opera they never went to, the new fashions other people -were going to wear, the novel they were in the middle of, but which must -not be read aloud now papa was in the room, the riches they missed, the -enjoyment they did not know, the past that was so poor, and the future -that did not promise to be richer. - -There was a ring at the bell. - -All the ladies looked up; even papa laid down the cards he was just -about to deal. - -“Brother Van Noost Prigson!” said Mevrouw, in a tone of some anxiety,—as -well she might, for there was no meat in the larder—in fact, nothing in -the house but a small angle of cheese, and a few ounces of ginger from -the uneaten dessert. - -Van Arlen said nothing: he was never precipitate, and in all -circumstances of life preserved his presence of mind. - -“What a quiet little ring!” said Frederica. - -“Could it be a message from the Minister, papa?” - -“Leen has not heard the bell—shall I ring?” - -Mevrouw Van Arlen assented, and the sitting-room bell was heard—a -quicker and more excited ring than the heavy, respectable front-door -bell. - -“The bell rang, Leen.” - -“Yes, ma’am, I’m here.” - -“No—the front-door bell.” - -“No, indeed it didn’t, ma’am.” - -“We all heard it.” - -“Impossible,” muttered the maid to herself, as she went to see; “or else -it must be some one who pulled the bell and ran away—and you can’t be -always on the look-out for that.” - -All listened in strained expectation. The front door was opened, but no -sound of voices came from it; it was closed again, and Leentje was heard -shuffling off to the kitchen. - -“She might come back and say who it was,” mamma assented. - -Leentje was again sent for. - -“Who rang the bell, Leentje?” - -“Just as I thought, ma’am,—it was some boy that ran away.” - -Mijnheer Van Arlen was inwardly very indignant that his family—among -whom so good a tone prevailed—should make such an exhibition of -themselves in the presence of a servant. Mamma blamed the girls’ -curiosity, but could not unconditionally accept the theory of the -boy,—Leentje had been too long at the front door for that. If it turned -out that she had been speaking to a “fellow” there, she would have to -leave next day. That sort of thing would not do in a respectable house. -The girls likewise declined to believe in the boy—the bell had been rung -too quietly. They wanted to go out and look whether anything had been -pushed under the door. Then it struck Antoinette that the mysterious -ring might be connected with burglary, and this opinion gave rise to -some eager whispering, which caused papa to turn a frowning brow, not -once, but twice, in the direction of the large table. In an unguarded -moment Leida slipped out into the passage, to institute an investigation -_in loco_, but neither on nor under the door-mat was there any trace of -a paper. All conjectures remained fruitless. - -If the little street-boy, with the newly mended kettle on his back, who, -merrily whistling his favourite tune, had crossed the quiet street, and -pulled the bell, to give his aunt’s sister-in-law a run from the kitchen -for nothing,—if that small evil-doer had known what a change and -excitement he had caused in a respectable family, insomuch that Van -Arlen himself, who filled such an important post, had laid aside for a -moment the business which occupied him, he would probably have repeated -the experiment on the following evening—if only out of pity for the -monotonous life of the seven ladies, to whom even the pulling of the -bell was an event. - -The night has passed;—the little, sputtering, flickering night-light, -which burns in Van Arlen’s bedroom—for Van Arlen does not believe in -having no light in the house, one never knows what may happen—has -consumed all its oil and gone out. The insolent sun, which has no pity -for faded carpets and curtains, has penetrated everywhere; and if one -could walk through the Van Arlens’ house at this hour, when their high -tone is still asleep, one would lose much of the reverence inspired by -the important position, the refined manners, and the ceremonious -intercourse with each other of its inhabitants. - -But at this hour in the morning no one walks through Van Arlen’s house -except the maid, who, by the terms of her engagement, is bound to “do” -two rooms before breakfast. This involves rising before five, though she -does not go to bed any earlier for that; she is also supposed to answer -the door, go out once in four weeks, “if it suits,”—and have neither -right nor claim to any extras beyond her wages, which are moderate, and -her perquisites, which are _nil_. - -To be weighed against all this is the great advantage of living with -respectable people, and that is a great deal in these days, Mevrouw -says. Besides this, Leentje is a “whole” orphan, and therefore ought to -appreciate the privilege of finding a home with such a family—though it -is true that Mevrouw Van Arlen will never engage a servant with any -parent or relative living, to save trouble with their families. - -But the Van Arlens are far too respectable to let us waste any more time -over their servant,—more especially as by this time they are all -assembled at breakfast, with the exception of the head of the house, for -persons who do much brain-work need more rest than those who only tire -their bodies—so Mijnheer says. Mevrouw is seated before the tea-tray—the -daughters take cold water. Nothing is wholesomer than cold water. -Moreover, butter—at least, much butter—is bad for the health. Bread in -large quantities is also unhealthy, and the ladies prove, by the extent -of their breakfast, that they quite subscribe to this opinion. The -“whole orphan,” also, is educated in the same doctrine, but she is -allowed to poison herself every morning with coffee—so long as she does -not exceed her two ounces a week. - -“I don’t know how it is, mamma, but that ringing the bell last night -does worry me,” said Frederica, by way of morning reflection; and the -other girls reflected also, and talked it over, and objected, or -supported each other, as if there were really an interesting question at -stake,—till papa’s arrival restored silence. He cast one glance over the -paper, which no one was allowed to inspect before him, for fear the news -might evaporate, and then put it into his pocket,—for girls have no -business with newspapers, and his wife did not care to see it. During -the meal he spoke little—he was oppressed by the prospect of all the -important affairs awaiting him; and he ate his bread and butter, and -drank his tea, with a solemnity which made it difficult to realise that -they were only ordinary bread and tea. - -Presently he rose. “Oh! papa! you scarcely give yourself time for -breakfast!” said his wife, and he did not dispute the proposition. He -kissed her and his daughters on the forehead in silence, put on his hat, -and went to his office, thoughtful and abstracted, as if bowed down by -the weight of his position. He did not even see people who bowed to him; -as for miscellaneous human beings, they were not worth his attention. - -Suddenly some one stopped him. - -“This is lucky! I was just on my way to your house!” cried this person -in a loud voice,—so loud that all the bystanders could hear Van Arlen -being addressed like an ordinary human being. “Have you been out to a -funeral this morning?” - -A well-regulated smile hovered for a moment about the official’s -mouth,—“No, brother.” - -“You look just like it. How are they all at home?—your youngsters -growing up—eh? Nothing particular going on?” - -Thus talking, Brother Van Noost Prigson walked along beside Van Arlen, -and entered with him—no, actually preceded him—into the door of the -building where he exercised his important functions. Preceded him! Van -Arlen went down five per cent. in the estimation of his subordinates -that day; and when his own messenger, with a low bow, threw open the -door of his private office, Van Noost Prigson was again the first to -tread the magnificent carpet, on which inferior officials scarcely dared -to set foot when expressly summoned by their chief. - -“Not much to do—eh?” - -“On the contrary, I am very busy to-day.” - -“Well, well—reading and signing documents, and all that sort of thing—I -could do that too.” - -“I shall have to sign about three hundred and forty separate papers.” - -“Well—I’d do that in half-an-hour; but if you really are busy, I won’t -keep you. I’ll come and dine with you to-day.” - -“Very good—and in that case, I’ll see——” - -“Don’t give yourself any trouble. I’ll call in and see Hortense myself. -You know you needn’t make any difference in your ways for me, and I -daresay you couldn’t very well afford it either.” - -Van Arlen looked at his brother-in-law as if to ask, “Do you mean to -insult me,” but his expression changed as he met the glance of the -cheery but penetrating eyes. “Living is dear at the Hague,” he said. - -“The more fool you, then, to stay here—and with seven daughters, too! -Just listen, Van Arlen,—I have a plan, but I can’t carry it out without -your help.” - -“Let me hear it before I promise.” - -“My plan is—to make Van Arlen rich.... Where did you get that ridiculous -thing?” he suddenly broke off. - -“Which?” asked the official—following Prigson’s eye, which was directed -to his breast. - -“Why—that bit of ribbon. I never heard of your getting it. From Santa -Claus, I suppose?” - -“I don’t understand you, Prigson; if you mean my Order, I make it a -point of honour to wear it, and I don’t like its being made a joke of.” - -“A joke, my dear fellow? I have the most fervent respect for all orders -of knighthood—especially if they are sent home on St Nicholas’ Eve.... -Come in! Beg pardon—I forgot this was _your_ place. Can I stay?” - -Van Arlen glanced at the door,—it was only a clerk with documents, and -Prigson was suffered to remain while the clerk waited and the official -signed. - -“This is the sort of thing that goes on all day long.” - -“Well—it seems to me you earn your money pretty easily. But say, Van ... -I suppose no one can hear us talking here?” - -“No one.” - -“Well,—it doesn’t matter to me, but I shouldn’t like it on your -account,—I want some money.” - -Van Arlen drew the palm of his hand across his forehead, and stared at -his brother-in-law without answering. - -“I’m so fearfully in debt that I don’t want to give the alarm. I should -be much obliged if you could let me have those thousand florins I lent -you. In a month or two you can have them again, if you want; but I’ve -got to live till then, and I have nothing left.” - -“It comes at a very inconvenient time, Prigson.” - -“My dear fellow, I would like nothing better than to give you a receipt -for the whole sum in full; for you’re a good fellow, and have to -struggle so hard, one ought not to make it harder for you. But, just say -now, when _would_ it be convenient?” - -Van Arlen thought for some minutes. - -“At the beginning of next year,” he said slowly. - -“I wish I could wait so long. I wish I could; but I have an expensive -undertaking on hand, which will perhaps by next year put me in a -position to accommodate you. But, for the moment, I _must_ have money; -and I dare not try to raise it myself for fear of ruining my credit, -which I can’t do without just now.” - -“Come in!” said Van Arlen, in answer to a knock at the door. - -“His Excellency would like to speak to you,” said the clerk. - -“So those fellows let themselves be called Excellency, do they? I -thought that was bad form now-a-days,” said Prigson, loud enough to be -heard by the clerk. But Van Arlen did not reply, he was too thankful for -the chance of escape from his brother-in-law. - -“I suppose you’ll be gone some time? An Excellency like that has plenty -of time for talking; _he_ doesn’t work himself to death,” said Prigson. - -“It may be a couple of hours before I can get away.” - -“In that case I’ll say good-bye. By-the-by, is there any place where I -can see the papers? Are you a member of the Besogne Club?” - -“At the White Club you’ll find all the daily papers.” - -“And will one of your cards be enough to admit me?” - -“I haven’t a card here, but——” Van Arlen looked round, and his eye fell -on the card of one of his subordinates. “This will do just as well.” - -“_Merci!_” said Prigson, with a just perceptible smile, and left him. - -When Van Arlen returned from the Minister’s private room, he sent to ask -the functionary whose card he had given to Prigson to come to him, and, -while waiting, wrote a note to his wife, informing her of that -gentleman’s arrival. - -Before the note had reached its destination, however, the person in -question had already appeared on the scene. He had been shown into the -_salon_, where, after sending up his name, he paced up and down for -about half-an-hour, vainly seeking for diversion in the four framed -engravings representing the divisions of the day, typified by English -ladies in the large bonnets and short waists of a fashion forty years -old. The alabaster clock, with gilt ornaments, was not going—it had not -gone for twenty years,—and the vases were as clumsy in form as monstrous -in colouring. - -“Everything dates from the year twenty,” muttered Prigson, after a hasty -glance at one article and another, “and these things never break! The -whole house and furniture is of the year twenty—the girls too. Is none -of them going to appear? Hortense surely doesn’t require to make such a -toilette.” - -He pulled the bell. It had given no sound for the last ten years;—but, -as it happened, the maid was just passing the door. - -“Look here, my girl—you seem smart enough—just run upstairs and tell -your mistress I have only ten minutes to spare, and I have to go out of -town again directly.” - -“Thank Heaven!” thought Mevrouw, when the maid came up with the message, -“then he won’t stay to dinner!” and in another moment she was -downstairs, endeavouring, by extra cordiality, to remove the impression -which the long waiting must have produced on Prigson. - -“I’m sorry, brother, you can’t stay to dine with us in a quiet way,” she -said after a time. - -“If you really make a point of it, Hortense, I can alter my plans to -suit,” answered Prigson; “but you must not let me put you out in any -way.” - -“Oh! not in the least; certainly not. You are always welcome, and our -table is large enough. And what are you doing just now?” - -“At this moment I am living on my means, for the last enterprise came to -nothing. But now I really have my eye on something good. You must try -and persuade Van Arlen to take it up; it is certain to make him rich——” - -He was interrupted by “Good-morning, uncle!” in three different voices; -and the three eldest Van Arlens proceeded to welcome Prigson, who, in -entire disregard of the tone of the house, embraced them one after the -other. - -“Always the same,” said their mother, smiling, and shaking her finger at -him, and the three girls blushed and sat down. Then appeared the two -next, to be welcomed in the same way; and presently the two youngest -turned up, to be likewise honoured by their uncle. All seven were as -neat as if they had come out of bandboxes, and each had some fancy-work -in her hand. - - -When the subordinate official whose card Van Arlen had given to Prigson -appeared in the former’s room as desired, he was received with— - -“Oh, Mijnheer Talm, I have just taken the liberty of using your name.” - -“You do me a great honour, sir.” - -“One of my relations, Herr Van Noost Prigson, from London, wished to be -introduced to the White Club, and you know I can’t go there!” - -Mijnheer Van Arlen meant that his position was too important to allow of -his doing so. The official bowed—he quite understood that. - -“I happened to have your card lying here, and I thought you would be -willing to do me that service.” - -“Certainly, very much flattered. Can I be of any further service to your -relative? Take him about anywhere? But I don’t speak English.” - -“Oh, he speaks Dutch quite fluently,” replied Van Arlen; “if one did not -know it already, one would never guess that he came from London. So it -might be as well not to mention it.” - -“Very good, sir.” - -Mijnheer Talm was about to withdraw, with a low bow. - -“By-the-by, Mijnheer Talm, is Department Y in order?” - -“I thought there was no hurry about it.” - -“The Minister has been asking me about it to-day, so I should be glad to -have it as soon as possible.” - -“I can promise to have it ready to-morrow.” - -There was work enough in Department Y to occupy Talm all day and all the -evening, perhaps half the night as well; his meeting Uncle Prigson was -scarcely possible under the circumstances. - -In any case, there was not much chance of this happening; for when -Prigson had left the Van Arlens’ house, with a promise to return at -dinner-time, he went straight to the White Club, and got himself -introduced by a Secretary of Legation; and when Leida went to the -confectioner’s to double the stock of dessert-ginger, she saw Uncle Van -Noost Prigson sitting at the club window! Her heart beat high with so -much grandeur. - -And Talm’s conversation for the next six weeks consisted principally of -the English millionaire whom he had introduced at the White Club at his -chief’s request. He thought it would do him no harm at the next chance -of promotion. - - -We left Van Arlen alone in his private room at the Government office. -There are moments in life when one prefers not to be alone, yet has not -the courage to break away from solitude; moments when a seemingly -impossible resolution must be taken, when one would be thankful -if—instead of thinking and acting for one’s self—one could blindly -follow the dictates of another. All the weight of his important position -had never oppressed Van Arlen so much as the idea suggested to him by -his short interview with Prigson. - -Imagine a man who, without knowing a note of music, is handed the score -of a symphony and told to read it. That was about his state of mind with -regard to the question Van Noost Prigson had asked him. He had not a -thousand guilders in the world—not even a hundred. - -He walked up and down his room, staring at one thing and another, but -unable to forget that thousand guilders, and the smallness of his -salary. If he had a thousand—no, not one, but ten, twenty, a hundred -thousand—would he not be a happy man? Then he would really live, as he -now only had the appearance of doing;—distinguished society, pretty -dresses for his wife and daughters, all pleasant things vainly desired, -would be his! Imagination has peculiar force in such cases, and Van -Arlen’s painted this ideal life for him with rough but forcible touches, -till he was once more recalled to reality and the starting-point of his -reverie—the thousand guilders! - -Where was he to get them? He _must_ have them. Sell his possessions? The -furniture was worth nothing. The pictures?—who knew if the English -engravings might not be rare and valuable? He did not understand such -things. He had indeed pretended to some knowledge of art, but he had -none. If he had only the smallest grain! What would a collector give him -for them? Two hundred and fifty guilders each? Surely they might be -worth that. Perhaps more—perhaps—— - -Then arrived documents for signature, and Van Arlen signed his -name—signed again, and yet again, and imagined that he was endorsing -bank-notes. Why was his name not of equal efficacy when written on a -cheque? He could always pay the amount later on; it was only for the -time he wanted it. - -Suddenly Van Arlen stood still. “Temporary—only temporary—and if I pay -it back, no one will ever ask after it.” He opened a locked cash-box; it -contained more than enough to help him; it did not belong to him; it had -only been left in his care, to give account of when the sum was -complete. He stood up, and wiped his forehead, and once more paced up -and down. - -Who was going to inquire after it? The Minister? He had other things to -think of. His colleagues? The affair did not concern them; they did not -even know of its existence. His inferiors? They would certainly mind -their own business; and if they did not,—after all, he was their chief, -and could give them what answer he thought fit. There it lay. He opened -the little parcel. Surely no one knew the numbers! - -There was a knock at the door. Van Arlen started as if he had committed -a crime, yet kept looking at the money that had been entrusted to him. -It was in an unsteady voice that he said, “Come in.” - -“Mijnheer Van Teuten would like to speak to you.” - -“Van Teuten?—I’m busy—well, one minute, then. Tell him to come in.” - -The man ushered into the private room wrote a magnificent hand. For the -moment that was nothing to the point—yet, after all, it was something, -for Van Teuten owed his career to it—“the best hand in the department.” -He did not write quickly—that was beneath his dignity—but for really -beautiful writing no one could come near him. - -Van Teuten was visibly disturbed, as he stood facing Van Arlen, who sat -leaning over his desk. The cash-box was shut. - -“Well, Mr Van Teuten?” - -“Mr Van Arlen—I’m come—I hope you’ll excuse it. I’ve come to make a -request, on which my future depends.” - -Van Arlen looked up from his paper, and coughed importantly, fixing his -dark eyes on the chief clerk, as though he suspected him of high -treason. - -“You know perhaps that—that I have absolutely no means of my own, and, -with the title of assistant secretary (which I owe to my -handwriting)”—here Van Teuten raised his head with a certain pride—“in -spite of my handwriting, still only draw the salary of chief clerk.” - -“Do you want to be promoted, Mr Van Teuten?” - -“Promoted—that is to say, sir—not exactly; but, Mr Van Arlen, I can’t -live! I’m poor, sir, and—if I write a good hand—Heaven forbid, sir, that -I should boast of it; but, well, it is hard that one should have one’s -merits, and be forced to suffer from poverty.” - -Van Arlen gazed fixedly at the owner of the fine handwriting, and asked -him for a definite statement of what he wanted—his time was valuable. - -“Do excuse me, sir; but I’m nervous—I’m agitated. I shall have to pay my -rent on Saturday—three-quarters’ rent, sir,—and I’ve nothing—nothing—not -so much as _that_!” - -“Very sad for you, Mr Van Teuten, but you know that I can be of no use -to you in this matter.” - -“Nay, Mr Van Arlen, you can. I only want two hundred guilders—nothing -more, and then I am saved—saved! And, you see, if I stood alone, sir, I -shouldn’t care—I should find some way out of it,—but I have a wife and -five children. Oh, God! Mr Van Arlen, it’s my last hope. Don’t let me go -like this!” - -Van Teuten pulled out a red pocket-handkerchief, and dried a few tears -with it. Van Arlen stared at him, still lost in thought, and forgot the -man’s request in the comparison he was drawing in his own mind, between -this case and his own. At last he asked slowly, “What do you want me to -do?” - -“Lend me two hundred guilders, sir,—that’s all that I hope, I entreat, I -beg of you——” - -“Just listen to me, my good Van Teuten, and don’t get excited,—tears are -not becoming in a man of your age. We’ve all got to work for our -families, and some men in this world happen to be better off than -others—but that’s no reason for giving way to passionate grief. As to -your request, it’s out of my power to grant it. Next time there is any -question of increase in salaries, I will do my best to improve your -position, but for the moment I cannot help you. If I did, I should have -all your colleagues asking me for the same thing to-morrow, and my -position will not allow of my coming to the assistance of officials in -this way.” - -Van Teuten was searching his mind for a word—a sentence. To-morrow, when -he did not want them, he might think of hundreds; now, he could find -none that would add force to his entreaty. He soon gave up the effort, -and tried another tack: - -“The Minister is rich, sir,—don’t you think he might give or lend me two -hundred guilders?” - -Van Arlen looked straight at him. True, the Minister was rich, and what -he refused Van Teuten he might yet be induced to grant to Van Arlen. - -“If you would only speak for me, Mr Van Arlen,—I don’t want to exalt -myself—and yet, I believe—don’t take it ill of me if I say so—I think my -services are worth something—and if His Excellency would be willing to -give me the money, I should be saved.” - -“Probably His Excellency would have the same reasons for declining as -myself; but I cannot conceive, Mr Van Teuten, that there is not one of -your colleagues who would be willing to help you out of a temporary -inconvenience.” - -Would Van Arlen himself have found one so quickly? - -“Oh! plenty!—but they want security—they want a guarantee; and ... do -you think His Excellency would become security for me?—or you, sir—your -name will do anything you like.” - -“My good friend, you understand that I, in my position, cannot afford to -get mixed up with any such affair, nor can the Minister either. Try and -come to some arrangement with your landlord, but don’t expect anything -from _these_ quarters, under such circumstances. We can’t have anything -to do with such matters.” - -Van Teuten bowed his head—he had exhausted his arguments, and all to no -purpose; he had completely forgotten the eloquent address, thought out -last night; the courage with which he had armed himself had oozed -away—he went out silently. But suddenly he turned back. - -“If it were _outside_ the official circle, sir, could you help me then? -I could get money at an interest of one per cent. per month—only I must -have the security of one of the superior officials.” - -“I have told you, Mr Van Teuten, that I, in my position, cannot occupy -myself with any matters of the kind. I am sorry for you, but I can do -nothing.” - -The man with the fine hand went away, slowly and dejectedly, and Van -Arlen was once more alone with—or rather without—his thousand guilders. - - * * * * * - -It is a mistake to suppose that, for the preparation of jugged hare, a -hare is necessary. Mrs Van Arlen understood very well how to give a -dinner, which, to the uninitiate, seemed the finest kind of “company” -dinner, and yet consisted of the most commonplace everyday dishes. But -there is an infinite difference between rice in a dish and rice in a -mould—more especially when the latter is served with lemon sauce. The -ham was prepared _à la mayonnaise_—Van Arlen was so fond of that -dish,—he always partook of it when on those mysterious journeys of his; -and then—you need not have a whole ham for it, a few slices are quite -enough. Moreover, there stood, on the side-table, besides the -never-failing ginger and cheese, a silver dish with ten little halfpenny -tarts on it. It was quite a splendid dinner; papa and uncle had each a -bottle to himself, and besides the ordinary wine glasses there were -others of smaller size for the better wine. - -But, with all this magnificence, a certain gloom prevailed among the Van -Arlens. This is the way with the great ones of the earth; they enjoy -wealth and ease without appreciating them. - -Prigson, on the other hand, was, as usual, in excellent spirits. He felt -in nowise overawed by the splendour of the feast, or the eight silk -skirts which rustled round about him. - -“You see, it’s just our ordinary family dinner,” said madame, with a -pleasant little laugh. Prigson gave the obligatory answer, and paid no -attention whatever to the material part of the dinner. - -“Which of you girls are going out with me this evening?” he asked. “I -can’t take all seven—three is the maximum—or else your father will have -to come too.” - -“You know, Prigson, my position is such that I cannot devote a single -hour to mere enjoyment.” - -Madame sighed, and said, in a compassionate tone, that brother could -form no idea of the life Van Arlen led. - -“No doubt,” said Prigson; “but I admit that it is far from appearing to -most people what it really is.” Prigson made the remark entirely without -sarcastic intention, and went on, with a smile, “I would bet something -that you haven’t even read the paper yet, Van Arlen.” - -Van Arlen usually read his daily paper from title to imprint while -taking his breakfast; but to-day he had entirely forgotten it. - -“I haven’t once looked into it; and here’s the proof,” he said, taking -it still unopened from his pocket. - -“So you haven’t seen my advertisement?” - -“Your advertisement?—no—did you insert one?” - -“Do you remember our talk at your office?” - -Van Arlen had not forgotten it for one moment, and if Prigson had paid -more attention to him, and less to Caroline and Leida (who, in fact, -were very pretty girls), he would have noticed that Van Arlen’s looks -continually took the vague direction which indicated that his mind was -elsewhere. His wife, who noticed it, ascribed it to the responsibilities -of his office; his daughters were thinking, this evening, more of their -uncle than of him. Certainly papa was the very type of a handsome man, -but uncle had something very distinguished about him—especially since -Leida had told them about seeing him in the club. - -“What advertisement is that, brother?” asked Mrs Van Arlen. - -“Oh, my dear Hortense, it belongs to those matters which ladies can’t -understand; but if it comes to anything, and Van Arlen is willing to -take a hand in it, he has only to say the word. You can make your -fortune over it, Van Arlen.” - -The word “fortune” awakened in the Van Arlens a feeling which used to -come over them day by day, and had as regularly to be suppressed. Now, -however, they were able to give way to it for a moment, and Van Arlen -himself—still under the influence of what he had endured that -afternoon—looked at Van Noost Prigson with interest. - -“How could that be done?” asked Mrs Van Arlen almost indifferently; -while all the girls, holding their breath, looked at Prigson in order to -form their own conclusions as to whether his project were practicable. - -“In the first place, you would have to give up your situation; in the -next, to leave the place; and in the third, to work rather harder than -you do at present; but, on the other hand, you would earn six times as -much money.” - -“You evidently don’t know what the life of a Government official is,” -said Van Arlen, with a contemptuous smile at the mention of harder work -than his. - -“Oh, dear, no!” said his wife; and the daughters looked in consternation -at the man who had dared to cast the slightest doubt on the extent and -importance of papa’s duties. - -“Well, what now, Van Arlen?” said Prigson, seeing that his -brother-in-law seemed once more lost in a brown study, “are you off to -that office of yours again? You had better come to the opera with us -this evening; that is to say, if these ladies are inclined to come.” - -A cold shudder—but it was one of delight—completely overpowered the -self-control of Frederica and Marie. They scarcely knew the opera, -except by name,—papa never went there,—and it was very long since they -had been invited by any one else. - -“The opera?” said Van Arlen, “I don’t care about that; it’s a sin -against common sense.” - -“I beg your pardon?” asked Prigson, perplexed. - -“Why, all the people there die singing—I can’t get over that.” - -“Eh?” said Prigson, evidently much taken aback; “well, I never thought -about that. But now I do think about it, I should say that the opera is -the most natural picture of life. There are so many people that weep and -wail all their lives; is that so very much more unnatural than that they -should sing when they die? But, granting that it is as you say, let’s go -to an opera in which nobody dies. Isn’t _Don Pasquale_ on to-night, -young ladies?” - -“I think so, uncle,” answered Frederica, blushing, for none of the girls -even thought of looking at the theatrical announcements. What was the -good? - -“Yes, yes—_Don Pasquale_. Come, Van Arlen—that’s a comic opera—just the -thing for you!” - -Van Arlen shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t mind a comic opera—not if -it’s _really_ comic,” he said. - -“Come along, then—you’re sure to like _Don Pasquale_.” - -“No, I can’t—another time, perhaps—I’ve too much to do to-night,” said -Van Arlen, absently looking at the alabaster clock that did not go, but -nevertheless seemed able to tell him that it was now _his_ time. - -“Yes,” said his wife, “and if we’re to go to the opera we shall have to -dress.” - -“Hortense! Hortense!” said Prigson, with a mischievous glance. - -“What do you mean, Prigson? Of course I can’t let the girls go to the -opera with a strange gentleman. I’ve always done my best, brother, to -give my daughters a _good_ bringing-up.” - -Prigson was too polite to answer; Van Arlen had folded his hands,—his -wife did the same, and soliloquised in silence. - -“Six of the ten tarts left over ... perhaps the confectioner would take -them back ... at any rate, one might try. Leentje might go and see.... -The opera ... that has not happened in the last ten years—what are we to -do about dresses?—we shall have to be quick about it.... Amen.” - -Her reflections were brought to an abrupt conclusion, for Van Arlen had -opened his eyes with a sigh, and once more saw Prigson before him. Oh! -what would he not have given not to see him—to have opened his eyes in -the consciousness that he had been sleeping! Sleeping, from the moment -of meeting his brother-in-law in the street; sleeping, when the latter -reminded him of the debt, when he had been alone after Prigson’s -departure, when Van Teuten stood over him; sleeping, too, that last -quarter of an hour, when he stood before his desk after Van Teuten had -left him.... But he had not slept—all, all was real ... and then to go -to a comic opera on the top of that! - -“Excuse me, Prigson, but I must go back to work immediately, there are -some documents wanted in a hurry.” - -“Oh! so things _are_ sometimes wanted in a hurry at a Government -office?” asked Prigson. “No, thank you—take one of my cigars—real -Havannah, fifteen cents—delicious—just try one.” - -“Oh, uncle, it’s positively sinful!” said Leida, who had nearly -forgotten etiquette so far as to hand him a light, which at a ceremonial -dinner would have been highly unfitting. - -“Sinful is it?... How old are you now, Leida?” - -“Eighteen next birthday, uncle.” - -“Good-bye, then—till later—no, don’t apologise. But don’t go to sleep, -Van Arlen,” Prigson shouted jocularly after his host, and then added, -turning to Leida, “A happy time of life, Leida, I wish it were mine -still;—but when I was that age, I didn’t think fifteen cents too much to -pay for anything I liked.” - -“How do you mean, uncle?” - -“Just what I say, my dear girl. What is life, after all? isn’t it always -seeking for what you like, whether you understand by that the smoking of -a good Havannah, or the consciousness of having done a good action? -Enjoyment means just what people like—and the older they are, the more -they want of it. It’s unjust of old people to say that it’s the young -ones that always want to enjoy themselves—the old ones are just as set -on it, but they get their enjoyment out of other things. Well, any man -who can get himself one enjoyment for fifteen cents is certainly not -cheated out of his money.” - -“But, uncle, must one always have money to enjoy one’s self?” asked -Leida, naïvely, but very much _à contre cœur_—for her whole life was in -evidence to prove that, as a rule, one must. - -“Certainly not, my very charming Leida,” said Prigson, rising, and -added, as he embraced his niece, “That’s a treat for nothing, do you -see?” - -“Not for me, uncle,” said Leida, laughing mischievously, as she ran out -of the room. - -“It’s really a pity that Van Arlen’s such a harlequin!” muttered Van -Noost Prigson to himself, and then went to join his elder nieces at the -window. - -Van Arlen was once more in his room, and had locked the door—but he -didn’t go to sleep. He had his hand in his breast-pocket, and his -fingers were clutching a little packet that seemed to burn them. - -Borrowed? No—not borrowed; it was stolen—it was not his. And yet he was -not a thief—he had already as good as put it back,—only the execution -was awanting to complete his intention. He strained his ears listening -for Prigson and the others to go out at the front door. As soon as they -were gone, he would hurry to the office and put back the money! Why were -they dawdling like that? If anything happened to prevent his going—if he -were to find the lock out of order. Why did they not start? If there -were a fire in a street he had to pass—if he were to meet with an -accident.... Do be quick, Prigson! the money is burning me—if I start -now, we shall be in the street at the same time—then I shall have to go -with him, and he will have to walk slowly on account of the ladies. -Which way shall I go? My hat—where did I put my hat? If Prigson were to -take my hat by mistake—happily it has a mourning band on it. Why don’t -you go, Prigson? Have you given up the plan? - -There was a knock at the door, and his wife entered. - -“Are you going out, Van Arlen?” - -“No, my dear, no.” - -“I thought you looked as if you were going to start.” - -“Certainly not, certainly not! Go now, make haste, or you’ll be late.” - -“Perhaps you’re going to give us a surprise.” - -“No, no—I’ve too much to do—and I don’t care about operas, where people -die singing. Good-bye, Hortense, good-bye! Don’t let the girls come up, -I’m too busy.” - -At last, at last, he heard the door close! and when Caroline, as the -eldest available daughter, came to bring papa his cup of tea, his room -was empty. - -“Papa has surely gone too,” she said, as she went down again. - -“I don’t think it’s very nice of him if he has. Why, he said that if he -went we should go too.” - -“Papa doesn’t care for operas.” - -“Oh! _I_ think he likes them well enough, really—only——” - -She stopped herself just in time, keeping back the word, the great word, -which might be thought, but never spoken, in the Van Arlen household. - -When the family came home that night Van Arlen was even more silent than -he had been at dinner, but his silence was a dull apathetic calm. The -ladies had enjoyed themselves “_awfully_”; their flushed cheeks and -dancing eyes spoke volumes for the effect of this unwonted gaiety. - -“Oh, papa, you _must_ go some time!” - -“Was it comic opera?” asked papa. - -“Oh, yes! indeed it was—awfully!” - -“Yes—but _really_ comic, _good_ comedy?” - -“Oh, yes, very good,” said mamma. - -Van Arlen’s position was too important for him to let himself be guided -by any chance person who chose to label an opera as comic. A thing must -really be what it is given out for. - -“I suppose you care nothing at all for tragedy, then?” remarked Prigson. - -“Well, not altogether that, but a tragedy must be _really_ tragic.” - -The conversation, of which some fragments are thus reported, will -scarcely make the reader long to hear the rest. The Van Arlens -consistently kept up their depreciation of sour grapes, to the great -delight of Prigson, who amused himself by defending all sorts of -paradoxes. But though the hands of the alabaster clock unchangeably -pointed to half-past one, it was getting late. Uncle Van Noost Prigson -prepared to take his leave, and Van Arlen made no great effort to detain -him. He thought his brother-in law a good fellow, and, under certain -circumstances, an indispensable person; to-day, however, Prigson -reminded him of so much that he would willingly have forgotten, that his -presence became well-nigh intolerable. He breathed more freely when -Prigson got up to go; and it was with a certain cheerfulness that he -remarked, as he looked out at the front door at the stars, “I see you’ve -a fine night.” - -“We’ll hope so,” said Prigson; “but now, business for a moment. I asked -you for something this morning—not for the sake of embarrassing you, but -of getting myself out of a hole. When can I have that money?” - -“Will to-morrow evening do?” asked Van Arlen, with a sigh of -thankfulness that it was no longer in his pocket. - -“Don’t let it be later than that—you know you’ve always told me I could -have it when I liked, otherwise I shouldn’t have asked at such a -moment.” - -“Oh, it’s no trouble to me!” said Van Arlen, though he was wondering all -the time where the money was to come from. - -“Now for my plan. I will guarantee that you get the money back three -days after the King has signed this concession—but then you will have to -work the Minister!” - -“I?” - -“No one is in a better position to do it; the business is honest enough, -but, like all business, it has a shady side to it: and the authorities -have a nasty way of seeing the black before the white. There _is_ some -black about it, I won’t deny; but if you can manage to show up the -white, we shall be that thousand guilders to the good.” - -“But I don’t see——” - -“No need you should, for the moment. Take the papers to your room, read -them, think over them, and, once more, three days after the granting of -the concession, your debt is no longer in existence.” - -“Prigson!” - -“Van Arlen!” - -“What you ask—can it be reconciled with an honest man’s conscience?” - -“What do you take me for, Van Arlen?” - -Van Arlen was silent for a moment, and then said slowly, “For a man who -wants to be rich.” - -“Quite right, my dear fellow, and you should do the same. With this -concession your fortune is made. You will have a situation with a salary -of ten thousand guilders.” And with a cheerful “Good-night,” Prigson -departed, while Van Arlen went up to his room. - -It was many hours before he rose from his chair. The sun was shining in -at the window, but he had no inclination to sleep; he had been absorbed -in the documents. He read from beginning to end, thought for a while, -folded them up, and muttered— - -“Heaven preserve me from it!” - -Thoughtfully he went to his office that morning. He could find no -solution to the Prigson question, and there was nothing to help him. - -He was summoned to the Minister’s presence, and found him -extraordinarily amiable—a bad sign. - -“Sit down, Mr Van Arlen, sit down,” said His Excellency. Van Arlen -obeyed. - -“Mr Van Arlen—it is possible I may be mistaken—but it seems to me as if, -just lately, you had shown—_passez-moi le mot_—less zeal for business -than I formerly thought was the case with you.” - -“Your Excellency, I was not aware that I had felt less zeal for my -duties than at any other time.” - -“Is there anything worrying you? Your health?” - -“It is excellent, thank you.” - -“Domestic trouble?—it might be indiscreet to inquire—but I take an -interest in all my subordinates. Is there perhaps any financial trouble? -Just tell me freely. Our salaries are not high, I know, but, if I am -rightly informed, you have some private means.” - -“At your Excellency’s service,” assented Van Arlen. - -“I thought so, otherwise we might have thought of offering you some -assistance in this respect. But as it is, I suppose the extent of your -work is such that it presses too heavily on one man; and so I have been -considering the feasibility of appointing one more official to my -department, subject to His Majesty’s approval of my nomination.” - -Van Arlen turned deathly pale; now he understood the Minister’s -friendliness, and the fate that lay before him; he understood also that -the first offer was by way of gilding the pill. He had refused the -gilding from pride, but had to swallow the pill all the same. - -“I assure your Excellency that I do not know what work could be -entrusted to such an official.” - -“That is quite a minor detail,” said His Excellency, naïvely. “However, -I wished to consult you first about the matter, and perhaps you will be -so kind as to have the proposal drawn up. Baron Regenstein is the person -meant.” - -“The son of your colleague?” - -“I believe so; but he is a man of great acquirements, whose help will be -extremely useful to you. I shall want the paper before two o’clock.” - -Van Arlen bowed and rose. - -“Oh, as to salary, we shall give him eighteen hundred guilders.” - -“Your Excellency will allow me to remark, that in that case you will -have exceeded the estimate for the department.” - -“Then we must see how we can manage with the smaller salaries. Didn’t -some one die a month or two back?” - -“Yes, an assistant secretary.” - -“Very good; and I just heard this morning that we’ve probably lost -another. Van Teuten left town quietly last night.” - -“Van Teuten!” exclaimed Van Arlen, in consternation. - -“Yes. Do you know anything in particular about him?” - -“He came and asked me for two hundred guilders yesterday.” - -“Well, why couldn’t you let him have an advance? or you might have sent -him to me; if necessary, we could have helped him by getting up a -collection. But you’re too busy to attend to such things; it’s a good -thing we’re going to have some extra help. Good-morning, Mr Van Arlen.” - -“That, too!” said Van Arlen, when he was back in his own room, and then -called out to the messenger that he could see no one. - -“A gentleman has been here; he said he would come back.” - -“Can’t see any one to-day.” - -“Mr Van Arlen!” said a voice, just as the door was closing. - -“Impossible, sir, the Minister is in a hurry.” - -The door was shut, and the voice—and all persons with whom it -subsequently came in contact—were aware that there was “something up,” -perhaps a reorganisation of the whole department.... So much only was -certain, that no one knew what it was but the Minister and Van Arlen, -which still further increased the latter’s importance. - -But the drawing up of a proposal for the appointment of a supernumerary -official was no joke. It was long since Van Arlen had such a ticklish -document in hand, and the only reason it seemed to him that he could -give was,—“Whereas it is our pleasure ... to supersede Van Arlen.” At -last, however, he found the way to do it. By noon the document was -ready, and one of the copying clerks, in whose discretion he placed -unlimited confidence, was sent for to prepare the mysterious paper for -its high destiny, in Van Arlen’s own room. At a quarter to two it was -fairly written out, and Van Arlen presented himself before the Minister, -who took the document, thanked him courteously, and glanced through it. - -“You have forgotten the date when the new appointment is to begin,—the -1st of the following month,” said His Excellency, in a tone which -clearly conveyed: “Really, Mr Van Arlen, your work is too much for you.” - -Van Arlen returned to his room with the paper in his hand, and found -Prigson at the door. - -“Good-morning, Van Arlen.” - -“Excuse me, Prigson; I haven’t a moment to spare.” - -“What is it now? Country in danger? What’s that document?” - -“Ministerial business.... Where is Mr Zuigman?” This to the messenger. - -“Gone away, sir.” - -“Tell him to come here immediately.” - -But after his highly important activity in his superior’s private room, -the copying clerk Zuigman had understood that he was in need of some -slight recreation, and, alleging a commission in town, he had gone off -for a stroll round the square. His immediate superior had given him -leave at once. One doesn’t refuse modest requests like that to a man -perceptibly high in Van Arlen’s favour. - -“What now?” said Van Arlen. “My head is going round. Zuigman must come -to my room the very first thing to-morrow morning.” - -“Can I help you, Van Arlen? What is it has to be done?” - -“Writing, man, writing!—a proposal addressed to the King that will have -to come before the Cabinet Council.... I don’t know what to do.” - -“Can’t you do it yourself?” - -“I!” said Van Arlen, in consternation. - -“Well, a good writing is not your strong point,” laughed Prigson, -“otherwise you never would have risen so high. The man with the worst -hand gets on best, because they can’t keep him on as a copying clerk. -Just give me a pen.” - -“But, Prigson, it’s a great document! strictly secret—no one is to know -anything about it!” - -“I’ll promise not to tell; let’s have a look.” And before Van Arlen -could prevent it, his brother-in-law had already glanced over the paper. - -“Heaven be good to us! a magnificent bargain!” - -“A bargain?” - -“Why, of course! Now-a-days it’s not their own sons that ministers help -forward; they do it for each other’s. Regenstein is to get this, and -your man’s son has just been put into a good thing by his father’s -colleague. Splendid exchange! Did you draw up the proposal?” - -“I have no time now, Prigson. Do be kind enough to let me alone.” - -Van Arlen rang the bell, and sent for one of the clerks. Van Teuten -entered. - -“Mr Van Teuten!” - -“Sir, I have—” - -“We’ll see to that presently. Sit down, Mr Van Teuten, and -write—here—recopy this page; but mind you put in the insertion! The -first time a document of mine has been disfigured by an insertion! My -head’s going!” - -Van Teuten wrote as he was told, and in a quarter of an hour the work -was finished. He perceived, with visible complacency, how much better -his writing was than that of his colleague. - -“Two different kinds of writing! Never yet happened with a document of -mine; and it’s got to go to the King and the Cabinet Council!” - -With these words Van Arlen rushed out of the room, leaving Prigson alone -with Van Teuten. - -“Can you copy decently?” asked Prigson. - -“I venture to say, sir, that there isn’t another hand like mine in this -department.” - -“What do you earn at this work, now?” - -“Six hundred guilders, sir. Mr Van Arlen has perhaps told you that I am -financially in circumstances of great difficulty.” - -“Well, it is indeed too little for a man who writes a hand like that; -but surely you’re out of all your troubles now?” - -“I?—I just wish I were!” - -“Why, a man who knows all about a secret document like this need not be -poor any longer than he likes.” - -“Secret, sir?” - -“Most particularly so,” said Prigson, turning away, while Van Teuten -considered with himself whether it could really be the case, and -whether, if so, he could profit by it. - -Van Arlen came back, thanked the copying clerk, and recommended him to -keep the matter secret. - -Prigson stole a glance at Van Teuten, who was now convinced of the truth -of his words. - -“Do you want anything, Mr Van Teuten?” asked Van Arlen, for the man -remained standing. - -“May I venture to remind you of my request yesterday, sir? Perhaps you -know that ... that I ... yesterday....” - -“Yes, I know—nothing takes place in this department without my -knowledge; but the Minister and I have agreed to take no notice of -such ill-considered action on the part of a member of this -department—provided, of course, it is never repeated.” - -“No, sir, I give you my word it shall not. Oh, if you had only known -what I felt this morning, when I thought of my wife and children -searching for me! I couldn’t stand it any longer, sir, and I came back.” - -“The wisest thing you could have done.” - -“But that does not save me! I have obtained two days’ respite; but after -that—I am hopelessly lost, if no help comes. If you will allow me, sir, -I will go before the court to-morrow.” - -“I’ll do better for you than that,—I’ll send a subscription list round -the office, and let you have the amount. His Excellency is sure to put -his name down too.” - -“And if there is any deficiency, I’ll make it up,” said Prigson. - -“Certainly a State secret,” thought Van Teuten, amazed and confused at -the turn matters had taken,—which he ascribed entirely to the secret. He -too was involved in it,—but, alas! he had read nothing, that was not his -habit. A good copying clerk never reads—he only writes. “To begin on -Aug. 1st,”—that was all he could remember. But it must be a secret of -the highest importance,—and the stranger who seemed to have the -principal share in the business was—yes, what could he be? Then he -remembered that Talm had spoken of an English millionaire, introduced by -him at the White Club, and somehow connected with Van Arlen;—but the -millionaire, according to Talm, knew not a word of Dutch—it was for that -very reason that Van Arlen had entrusted him to Talm’s guidance; and now -the secret document, and the unexpected help, and the change in his -fortunes—had Van Arlen, perhaps, been raised to the ministry?... - -Van Arlen and Prigson were left alone. - -“Did you look over my papers?” - -“Yes.” - -“And——?” - -“I don’t want to be in it; your business is not—not honest.” - -“What do you call honest, Van Arlen?” - -“Perhaps I expressed myself rather harshly—it is not what it seems to -be.” - -“_You_ say that?” sneered Prigson. “Come, Van Arlen, _that_ can be no -reason for you to dislike a thing. But we’ll grant that it is more -profitable for the contractor than for the State—that’s a matter of -course. Do you think we’re going to make the State presents, while the -Ministers put their sons into all the fat Government places? Just tell -me, on your conscience, Van Arlen, is that an honest business, that -appointment? I bet something you had a heap of trouble to give the thing -a decent appearance?” - -Van Arlen nodded. - -“Well, now, there’s a present of eighteen hundred guilders being made to -Regenstein. I suppose your Minister’s son is getting double that? And am -I to be fool enough not to get my share out of the ‘Widow Woman’ too? -Let’s be wise, and follow the good example set us.” - -Van Arlen was silent. - -“Shall I tell you something? The functionary now being smuggled in—for -whose coming you have been obliged to find the reasons—is really -appointed in order to oust you. He is to do your work, and you are to -become supernumerary, and then who knows how soon you’ll be pensioned -off?” - -“Then I shall fall honourably.” - -“Cold comfort that; it’s surely no dishonour to prevent the blow. Once -more, I’ll give you a receipt for that debt; I offer you a well-paid -position, and if the concern comes to smash—for that _might_ happen—I -will guarantee that you shall lose nothing.” - -“So you admit that the thing is not honest?” - -“My good Van Arlen, you’re the very type of infantile innocence. If it -were quite safe and certain to be profitable, I could do without your -help. One word more,—if you still refuse, Regenstein is a good friend of -mine; he gets his appointment on the first, and within a month from that -date I shall get what I want without applying to you. Just think over -that.” - -“Prigson, you are a tempter.” - -“Van Arlen, you are a fool.” - -“If it should come out that I have been playing a double game?” - -“If this Minister is still in office, just remind him of that -appointment; if there is another, you can lay the blame on his -predecessor, and the disorder occasioned by the unnecessary nomination -of new officials.” - -“But—I took an oath——” - -“And didn’t the Minister do so too? Come, shut up shop for to-day, and -come and dine with me.” - -“With you?” - -“Why not? Yesterday I was your guest, to-day you are mine. I am staying -at the Bellevue; but if there are too many princes there for your taste, -we’ll go and dine at the Badhuis restaurant.” - -“Impossible; I can’t leave the office till four. If you’ll believe me, -Prigson, I envy the clerks, who can take their hats and go whenever they -like.” - -“The burdens of greatness.... So you’re free at four, are you? Well, -I’ll drive round and fetch you.” - -Accordingly, at four, Prigson arrived in a cab, and conveyed not only -Van Arlen, but his wife and Leida, to the garden restaurant at -Scheveningen known as the Badhuis. They dined sumptuously, and did not -even refuse champagne. This was an unheard-of event in their lives—but -they were not paying the bill. - -After dinner, as they were sitting on the terrace, they perceived Mr -Talm. Mr Talm had on flesh-coloured kid gloves, and an eye-glass -prominently fixed in his left eye, the cord waving in the wind like the -web of a gigantic spider. Talm was quite presentable, and, being now of -opinion that the Van Arlens were presentable also, he accosted them, and -was honoured with an invitation to join their party. - -Madame thought it would be nice to walk up and down the terrace, and -Leida also showed herself pleased with the idea. Talm offered his -escort, and Prigson was once more alone with his brother-in-law. - -“The business is clinched now, isn’t it?” - -“No,” said Van Arlen, “I have been thinking it over, and I must abide by -my first answer.” - -“That’s a pity,” said Prigson—“a pity for you—for, as I said, the matter -will have to be got into shape without you; but I should have liked to -have you in it, because I’m heartily sorry for you. Just excuse me a -minute,” he went on, rising and signalling to a stranger, who was -casting sinister glances at the teacups—“it is my friend Valtoucourt, -one of the associate concessionaires.... I’m sorry, for I could have -introduced you to each other—in fact, I shall have to do it after -all,”—and Prigson, continuing in French, presented Baron de Valtoucourt -to his brother-in-law, for whom he invented a high-sounding title on the -spur of the moment. Van Arlen had never thought that his name would -sound so well in French. But French was not his forte, and now his -silence made him seem more solemn than ever; and he was convinced in his -soul that Baron Valtoucourt thought him the pivot of all the home and -foreign politics of Holland. Prigson did his best to strengthen this -hypothetical opinion. “You see, my dear fellow,” he said to the -stranger, “if Van Arlen is willing, he can do anything, but he is fond -of raising objections—_ce cher_ Van Arlen.” - -The stranger muttered, with amazing rapidity, a long French sentence, of -which Van Arlen could not seize a word. He therefore confined himself to -ejaculating now and then “_oui_” or “_peut-être_,” and at the close -wrapped himself in a diplomatic silence. His wife and Leida returned -with their cavalier; the stranger greeted them with a bow, as deep and -solemn as though he were announcing her death-sentence to the Queen of -Spain; he then bowed no less deeply to Talm, who, on his part, was not -to be outdone, and, deeply impressed by the high solemnity of the -occasion, made another low bow before Van Arlen. The latter, having -witnessed the performance three times, involuntarily saluted his -assistant secretary in a similar manner. - -It was, in fact, most impressively solemn. - -The stranger was a man who knew life, and could understand that a man -might fill a highly important position without being an accomplished -French scholar. He therefore slackened the flow of his words, and -assured them that he should consider it a great honour to have Van Arlen -as a director. - -“But,” said Van Arlen, “I never said that!” - -“_Si, si_,” said the stranger, “we understand one another perfectly;” -and then he pressed his hand and gave utterance to a friendly wish, -whereat Van Arlen (unwilling to acknowledge even to himself that he did -not understand) replied, “_Nous verrons_.” - -Next morning he sent for his wife and Leida to his own room, and -completely bewildered them, first by swearing them to secrecy with -regard to a conversation they had neither heard nor understood, and next -by completely losing his temper, when Leida innocently asked: “Why, -papa, you frighten me—one would think it was high treason!” He was so -violent that Leida went off into hysterics, the girls came up to see -what was the matter, and Van Arlen left for the office in a very bad -temper. - -He found that Prigson had been there, and was coming back at three -o’clock. - -The Minister not only refused to have anything to do with the -subscription list for Van Teuten, but hinted disapprobation of those who -had got it up; and let fall expressions which tortured Van Arlen all the -morning, making him wonder whether His Excellency had penetrated his -secret. At last Van Teuten came, and he was forced to acknowledge his -failure. The poor man, nearly in despair, was about to make a last -effort, and ask the Minister to become security for him, when Van Arlen -had a luminous idea. - -“I will——” he said. Van Teuten was overwhelming him with thanks and -blessings, when he interrupted him: - -“On these conditions I will become security. First, the money must be -here by two; secondly, you must borrow, not two hundred, but twelve -hundred; thirdly, the whole matter must be kept secret.” - -Van Teuten was ready to promise anything,—he would willingly have made -him a present of his soul into the bargain. Not long afterwards a former -Government clerk, who was now “in business on his own account,” was -admitted to Van Arlen’s private room. The money-lender was inclined to -make objections—twelve hundred guilders was a large sum for a clerk -whose income only amounted to the half of that sum. - -“If I don’t raise that difficulty,” said Van Arlen indifferently, “I see -no reason why you should.” - -“Yes, you see—but you are mortal like the rest of us; you might have to -retire, or be put on half-pay—excuse my suggesting such things, but -they’re all possible.” - -“You’re not lending money to me, but to Mr Van Teuten; if anything of -the sort were to happen, he would find you a new security.” - -At last the matter was settled, at an interest of seven and a half per -cent. The money-lender produced the twelve hundred guilders, and carried -off the bill, duly stamped, and signed by Van Arlen and Van Teuten. - -When the man with the handwriting was once more alone with his chief, -the latter said, “Two hundred guilders are all you want for the present; -I’ll keep the rest for you, in case you should get into difficulties -again. Never mind about the interest—I’ll pay that.” - -Van Teuten was fairly dazzled by such liberality. There must be -something behind it—probably the State secret. - -The news went like wildfire through the department how that unlucky -devil of a Van Teuten had been set on his legs again by Van Arlen! -Zuigman knew what to think of it—_he_ had seen documents; but he never -spoke, and that his colleagues knew right well. - -Talm, too, had his say on the subject,—Talm, who had introduced the -millionaire, and had, yesterday evening, walked on the terrace at -Scheveningen arm in arm with his chief’s wife. Further and further -spread the fire, and every one made his conjectures. Van Teuten’s rescue -remained the great event of the day. - -It struck three, when Prigson was announced. Van Arlen was deep in his -work. - -“What zeal! But of course you want to leave the books in good order when -you go!” - -“I’m not thinking of going, Prigson.” - -“What do you say? And our agreement?” - -“I have made no definite agreement; but, in so far as I have made any -promise to join you, I withdraw it.” - -“What the deuce! Van Arlen, aren’t you right in your head?” - -“On the contrary, I have come to my senses. When one has been an honest -man for thirty years, Prigson, one is thoroughly in love with honesty.” - -“Especially the way it is appreciated! The reward of all your honesty -will be, that you fall from the tree, like an over-ripe fruit, and lie -there till somebody treads you flat.” - -“Better so than trample on one’s self.” - -“That is a gymnastic feat I would rather leave to a Münchausen. But -you’re mad, Van Arlen—the matter is getting into shape after all.” - -“Do you think so?” Van Arlen stood up, and looked his brother-in-law -straight in the face. “Do you think I would ever allow it?” - -“My good friend, you won’t be asked. Regenstein is going to negotiate -the business.” - -“Then I’ll inform the Minister. The supernumerary will be on his guard.” - -“Like the dying gladiator—_moriturus salutat_—it’s heroic, but comic -too. I’d be more sensible, if I were you, Van Arlen.” - -“Prigson, when I came here this morning, with the feeling that I had -broken my oath and betrayed my country.... Oh! I couldn’t stay here a -day—I couldn’t live—I should lay hands on myself.” - -“Treason—perjury—you do choose such fine words! and the real point is, -whether you’re going to depart from an old habit or not. Believe me, -you’re the slave of habit.” - -“I prefer to remain so.” - -Prigson looked at him, and saw that his mind was made up. But he had one -resource left, “Well, I suppose you’re your own master, and can do as -you like.... But I’m sorry—I shall have to remind you of what I asked -you for the other day.” - -Van Arlen put his hand in his breast-pocket, and laid a small parcel on -the table before Prigson, “Will you kindly see if that’s all right?” he -said. - -Prigson was disappointed. He did not need the money—in fact, Van Arlen’s -utter inability to pay would have been worth another thousand guilders -to him. - -“I suppose it’s all right,” he said, glancing over the notes. “There, -Van Arlen,” he said, with a sudden change of tone, and a quaver in his -voice, “give me your hand, old fellow! you’re better than most men. -Good-bye! Stay as you are!” - -He left the room, and Van Arlen, finding himself alone, felt like a man -saved from shipwreck. - -It is some weeks after the first of August. The new official has long -been installed, and the Minister does nothing without consulting him. -Everything passes through Mr Regenstein’s hands. - -It is Sunday afternoon. On Sunday afternoons, as a rule, it is too hot -for a walk; or, if not too hot, it is too cold. If neither too hot nor -too cold, it most likely threatens rain; and if none of these three -atmospheric conditions prevails,—well, formerly Van Arlen always had -urgent work to do. This Sunday, however, he is quite at leisure, and the -weather is perfect, but—it is the anniversary of Aunt Cornelia’s death. - -Van Arlen looks over the blinds at the passers-by, most of whom are on -their way to the Bosch. Here and there a quietly dressed lady, with a -Bible in her hand, threads her way through the throng. - -“I think I’ll go to afternoon church,” says Caroline. “Will you come, -Frederica?” - -“Oh, yes, Caroline,” answers Frederica, with a little sigh, and they go. - -Leida and Hendrika made a slight grimace. - -“Papa really might go out for a walk with us.” - -“Oh, fie! girls!” said their mother, “that would not be at all proper on -a day like this.” - -“Couldn’t we keep the day just as well to-morrow, mamma?” asked Leida -simply. “I don’t see why we should have to keep it up for twenty years; -I’m quite sure that Uncle Van Noost Prigson himself doesn’t remember it -now.” - -The name made Van Arlen look up. - -“Oh, papa—have you heard anything more about the situation uncle was -talking about at dinner that day?” asked Marie. - -“That’s all come to nothing, dear child; I have been talking it over, -but they say they can’t do without me at the office.” - -“But, papa,” asked Hortense, “if they can’t do without you, how does it -happen that you have less to do than you had?” - -“Does the importance of a position lie in the mere amount of work?” -asked Van Arlen, with dignity. - -“Papa has this secret business now, you see,” said his wife, anxious to -help him out—she was looking straight before her. “This business is, by -itself, of tremendous importance.” - -“Is that since Uncle Prigson was here?” asked Leida, going up to her -father, and laying her arm over his shoulder. “You’re not angry with me -any more, are you, papa?—you know—since that morning?” - -Van Arlen bent down to his daughter and kissed her on the forehead. “No, -little girl,—I can’t be angry with you.” - -“But you never travel now, papa. Has that part of your work been taken -away? That’s stupid!” - -“The travelling has come to an end,” said Van Arlen thoughtfully,—“come -to an end for good and all.” - -The item “Travelling expenses,” in the Van Arlen budget, was now -replaced by another, which was, “Instalments and interest on debt.” - -“That’s a pity,” said Caroline, “because now you can never take two of -us with you, as you promised to do long ago.” - -“That plan has come to nothing too, child. Besides, I’m getting old.” - -“Oh, papa!—you old! that’s the first we’ve heard of it. It must be since -you gave up your glass of wine at dinner.” - -“Papa has to keep his head clear, you see,” said Mrs Van Arlen. “That’s -the penalty of greatness, girls!” - -She was silent, and they all followed suit. No one had anything more to -say. If only a caller would come!—but since papa had entered on his -important position as supernumerary in the office, callers had been -scarce. So the dull Sunday wore away. The two eldest girls came home -from church; the dinner hour drew near, and, still in silence, the Van -Arlens took their places round the big table, on which a soup tureen was -the only dish visible. It does not take long to eat soup, and the -dessert, as usual, remained untouched. Already Leentje had stuck her -shining Sunday face, and her hat with the flowers in it, through a crack -of the door, to give notice of her departure—for it was her day out, and -“it suited.” The family were still seated round the table. Why should -they rise?—the evening was long enough. Suddenly, however, they were -startled out of their inertia by the front door bell. Leida went to -answer it, and immediately returned with Van Noost Prigson. Van Arlen -felt himself turn pale—was he to be tempted again? - -His wife, too, was seized with panic—supposing Prigson had not dined! -Fortunately, he set her mind at ease forthwith. - -“I left the dinner-table before dessert, fearing that otherwise I should -not find you at home. I suppose you’re going to Scheveningen?” - -“No; it’s rather too crowded for me at the Badhuis on Sundays,” said Van -Arlen, feeling that it would not quite do to allege to the widower the -anniversary of his wife’s death as their reason for remaining at home. - -“Crowded! The father of seven daughters ought simply to revel in crowds. -What do you say, nieces?” - -The nieces had no opinion to offer on that point. - -“Really, Van Arlen,” Prigson went on, throwing himself back in his -chair, and surveying the seven girls, one by one, with a well-pleased -expression,—“really, my dear fellow, you ought not to stay at home on -Sunday evenings! At any rate you should send your daughters to church.” - -The younger ones looked mischievously at Caroline and Frederica. - -“It has always struck me as strange, Van Arlen, that there are so many -old maids at the Hague. What in the world is the cause of that?” - -“Because the girls are rather hard to please, uncle,” said Leida. - -“Oh, that’s the reason, is it?” said Prigson, with an air of simple -faith. “I’m sorry to hear it—I’ve just come to look for a wife at the -Hague.” - -“For Cousin Cornelius, uncle?” asked Leida. “I suppose he’s about twenty -now, isn’t he?” - -“Good for nothing, girl! And have you heard, Van Arlen?” he continued, -turning to his brother-in-law. - -“What?” asked the latter. - -“Oh! you know well enough,—you’re only pretending, because you want to -make out it’s a State secret.” - -“On my word, as an honest man——” - -“That’s worth something, as we know. So you haven’t heard? Next week -your Minister’s going to resign.” - -“Prigson!” - -“The day before yesterday, it was brought before the Cabinet Council, -and His Majesty made as little difficulty over the matter as I should -have done. He’ll get the Grand Cross now, and perhaps be Minister of -State—but _you’ll_ be rid of him!” - -Van Arlen sat looking at his brother-in-law, without moving a muscle of -his face, and the girls felt convinced that papa knew just as much about -the business as Prigson. - -“And the best of it all is, that your friend Regenstein has been doing -his level best to pull His Excellency down! Well—reap as you’ve sown!” - -“Prigson, we’re not alone here.” - -“I see no earthly reason why your wife and daughters may not know it. I -hate these mysteries. They may shout the whole thing from the housetops, -for all I care.” - -“But think of my position!” - -“It will be greatly improved, Van Arlen. Regenstein has made his own -terms, like a sensible man; but I’ll tell you about that later. As soon -as I heard that His Excellency was going to close his portfolio, I came -to the Hague at once; last night I had a talk with him, and now my -business is done. The Minister wasn’t of the same mind as a certain -fellow I know, when _he_ found himself set aside.” - -“But, Prigson!” - -“All men are not equally conscientious, my dear man. His Excellency had -too much common sense to make difficulties,—but that’s not to the point. -Enough that the matter’s settled! By Jove, but I’m sick of it! To -Amsterdam yesterday—to Rotterdam this morning—but now I’m going to get -some rest!” - -Van Arlen shook his head doubtfully over such lack of principle. - -“And are you remaining in town some days?” asked Madame, with -distinction. - -“That depends, Hortense. I’ve told you what I came for.” - -“Uncle is sorry for the Hague ladies,” said Leida. “But remember, uncle, -they’re very hard to please.” - -“I think I shall have to run off with one. What would you do, Van Arlen, -if a fellow ran off with one of your daughters?” - -“Prigson, my daughters are far too well brought up, ever to be exposed -to the danger of such a thing.” - -“But supposing a man comes and proposes in due form?” - -“I think it’s going to rain,” said Marie. - -“Dear me! isn’t that picture hanging all on one side,” exclaimed -Hendriek, at the same moment. - -“Mamma, have you noticed that the edge of the tablecloth is all ravelled -out here?” asked Hortense. - -Frederica rose to pick up her napkin, which she had dropped. - -“Shall we have tea in the front or back room, mamma?” asked Antoinette, -whose turn it was to see to the housekeeping this week; and they rose, -followed by Caroline, who went over to mamma, to whisper a very -confidential communication with regard to a ribbon in the latter’s cap. -Leida was lighting a spill for papa. “You might as well ask, uncle, what -is the amount of the dowry papa is going to give us,” she said, handing -Uncle Prigson a light at the same time. - -“Pretty girls need no dowry,” answered Prigson. - -“Thanks for the compliment to your nieces,” said Leida, with a roguish -curtsey, as she left the room. - -Prigson and Van Arlen were once more alone. - -“Prigson,” said the official, “I must repeat to you candidly what I have -already told you—you’re not playing a fair game.” - -“Do you think I want to turn your daughters’ heads?” - -“I didn’t mean that—your enterprise, which now seems about to succeed——” - -“Say, which _is_ going to succeed; but let that matter rest just now.” - -“Surely you have a conscience, Prigson?” - -“An amazingly big one, Van Arlen; and, between ourselves, I think it’s -made of some elastic substance, most likely of the same material as your -Minister’s and your friend Regenstein’s.” - -“Prigson! Prigson! a time will come——” - -“Dear me! Van Arlen, what a platitude!” - -“You’re scoffing, Prigson; but listen, you set store by the respect of -your fellow-creatures—mine, for instance; you told me once that I was -better than many men.” - -“Well remembered; but have I forfeited that respect?” - -“Not quite, yet—but still——” - -“The greater part? Good. Now the proof of the sum; Van Arlen, I want to -ask you for the hand of your daughter.”[37] - -“Prigson, do remember that we are discussing serious matters.” - -“But, Van Arlen, I’m speaking as seriously as I ever did in my life. -Your Leida is a nice, pleasant, merry girl, with a good heart, -and—excuse my having seen a little deeper into your domestic economy -than perhaps you like—Leida knows how to keep house.” - -“Your age!” - -“Do you reckon by the heart or the head?” - -“You might be her father!” - -“If I had six more daughters, like you, I wouldn’t envy their position. -I don’t understand, Van Arlen, why you should make any difficulty about -it; a father of seven girls ought surely to be glad enough to get rid of -one of them.” - -“You forget that a daughter’s marriage involves expenses too heavy for a -household like mine.” - -“I will bear the cost of everything.” - -Van Arlen was silent, and reflected. He had just been calling Prigson a -dishonest man,—was he going to give him his daughter? Could he answer -for such a step to his own conscience?... But it was a good match after -all ... and then ... seven daughters! And the outfit! But perhaps that -was only a nominal present after all ...; perhaps Prigson only meant to -reckon it as cancelling the money still due to him. - -“Our debt—” he began. - -“Cancelled on the wedding-day.” - -The prospect was, in truth, a seductive one; but how could he give his -daughter to a man without a conscience? Suddenly there occurred to him a -way of escape, which united in itself all possible advantages. - -“Prigson, with me everything must give way to my children’s happiness; I -have never forced any of them into a marriage” (in fact, the opportunity -had never offered), “and I would not attempt to prevent a union which——” - -Van Arlen paused—Prigson waited. - -“Which may, perhaps, lead to your happiness—even your higher happiness, -Prigson. The influence over you may have the power to inspire you with -better feelings, with—let me speak plainly—more moral principles.” - -It was an inspiration of the moment,—but Van Arlen, by this time, was -quite convinced that it was his principal motive in consenting. - -“Will you let us hope so, Van Arlen?” - -“But——” - -“Well?” - -“Would not Caroline, who is nearer your own age——” - -“I am convinced that Leida’s influence will act on me more powerfully,” -said Prigson, humbly. “What do you think of taking a drive out to the -baths now? I shall have a better chance of getting a few words with -Leida than here, where there are always six more of them sitting -sorrowing that the offer was not for them.” - -“I do not think my daughters would take that view of each other’s -happiness.” - -“Come! we’re getting on!—you call it happiness, do you? Will you have a -fly ordered?” - -“The nearest driver is a Roman Catholic.” - -“No, of course he must not drive us; that would begin to play the -mischief with the moral principles at once. I’ll go and find a Calvinist -cabman.” - -That same evening Leida called her uncle by his first name; and in two -months’ time the Van Arlens were giving a ball in honour of the -engagement,—a thing they had never done before,—with Prigson’s money. -Talm appeared at this festivity; and the man with the handwriting, who -was accustomed to amuse his leisure hours with the clarionet (purely for -the love of art, of course), also assisted—at a distance. He told his -friends next morning that he had been one of the invited guests, and -that Mr Talm would probably get a good piece of promotion before long, -for he had been dancing all the evening with one and the same Miss Van -Arlen—who, moreover, gave him her bouquet when he left! - -The ball had important consequences, moreover, for five more of the -Van Arlen girls; and the old man now lives on his pension, with his -wife and eldest daughter. He often calls to mind his important -position,—especially the time when he was entrusted with such very, -very confidential business, of which no one knew anything at the time, -and no one knows anything to this day. - - GERARD KELLER. - - - - - _ROUGH DRAFT OF A NEW SET OF REGULATIONS._ - - - FOR THE BENEFIT OF SERVANTS AND THEIR EMPLOYERS. - -The milkman must be made to understand that it will not do to ring -people out of their beds at seven in the morning, and make them catch -cold at the front door. - -Pianos are not to be locked by the family after using; the servants -would like a little music now and then. - -The master and mistress must consult the servants before subscribing to -newspapers and magazines. The foolish choice that is often made in this -respect is very trying to the feelings of the latter. - -Another practice that cannot be too strongly reprobated, is that of -carrying off books and magazines from the circulating library to -people’s bedrooms before the servants have read them. - -Madame and the daughters of the house should always knock properly -before entering the kitchen. - -When visiting the servants’ own rooms, they should always send some one -up to announce them first. - -When the housemaid is sent to order a cab, it by no means follows that -she is to tell the cabman to drive her home by the shortest way. - -If the master and mistress are medically attended by a Professor, it -will not do to let the servants be treated by an ordinary doctor. - -Stale bread will no longer be eaten. - -When a serious misfortune is impending—_e.g._, a bankruptcy or the -like—the servants ought always to be warned in time. - -If the family have a box at the theatre or the opera, the servants -should have the full use of it. - -The family should not speak French at table while the maid is in the -room, unless it has been previously ascertained that she understands -that language. - -Tips ought to be compounded for, just as much as tithes. - - _Uilenspiegel._ - - - - - _THE STORY OF A BOUQUET._ - - -Alfred possessed two qualities common to many young men besides -himself,—he was in love, and he had very little money. - -His condition was therefore a sad one; but he cherished the hope that -the lovely Clara would not only make a good wife, but also put an end to -all his pecuniary embarrassments. So he neglected nothing that he -thought might please her. - -Every one knows that homage when offered in the shape of flowers is, as -a rule, well pleasing to ladies. But, unhappily, the world is at present -so prosaically constituted, that even the perfumed children of Flora are -not to be had except for money,—and this point constituted, as we have -already seen, the Achilles sinew of our enamoured here. - -Day and night his thoughts were occupied with this difficulty, and, when -it did not keep him awake, his sleep was filled with uncomfortable -dreams. - -After one of these weary nights, another bright morning had dawned,—the -larks were singing, the roses were in bloom, and Alfred was busy -cleaning his pipe. - -In the midst of this poetic occupation, he was suddenly inspired with a -practical idea. He sketched out a plan which would have done no -discredit to the most finished diplomatist, and executed it with an -energy worthy of a worse cause. - -He had been accustomed to sell his cast-off garments to a humble citizen -of much experience in retail trading; and, considering the man’s -astuteness and eloquence, he had often been seized by a suspicion that -he (Alfred) had not got the best of the bargain. - -This must be put an end to. He broke off his commercial relations with -the experienced dealer, and concluded a treaty with a nursery-gardener’s -boy, to whom he presented his worn-out clothes; in return for which the -boy engaged to gather him a bouquet, from time to time, late in the -evening, and bring it to him with the necessary discretion. - -This plan answered well enough for a time. The boy brought the flowers, -and received in return, gifts of equal value,—a hat, adorned with dints -like a Homeric shield; a waistcoat, wofully stained down the front; and -a coat, whose collar shone like a meteor; and furthermore, a pair of -shoes, on which the cobbler’s art could no further go. - -On the morning of a bright summer day, the gardener’s boy, being unable -to come in person, sent up by another hand a magnificent bouquet of -roses, which Alfred, without loss of time, despatched to his adored -Clara. - -Full of joyous hope, and sure of a friendly welcome, he sped the same -evening to the house of his chosen one, but found, to his great -disappointment, that he was received with decided coolness. - -“You sent me a note this morning,” began Clara, after an awkward pause. - -“A note?” he asked, in astonishment; “I?” - -“Yes, with the flowers—” - -[Illustration: - - “YES, WITH THE FLOWERS—” -] - -“Yes, I did send some flowers—roses——” - -“Into which this note was stuck,” went on Clara, freezingly. “Here it -is—do you deny having sent it?” - -And she handed the miserable man a piece of paper, on which he read, to -his consternation— - -“_Don’t forget the old boots you said you would give me last week._” - - _Uilenspiegel._ - -[Illustration: - - “TO HOLD UP FOR THE KISS.” -] - - - - - _UNBIDDEN GUESTS._ - - - I. - -Notary van Elst generally comes home from his office about five in the -afternoon, and his return to the bosom of his family is a pretty sight. - -The Van Elsts’ neighbour,—unsociable old bachelor that he was,—noticing -how eagerly this return was watched for every afternoon and greeted with -joyful acclamation, had a way of turning away his head, and muttering -crossly, “I might have known that sort of thing too, if only——” - -In the _bendy_[38] sent to fetch Van Elst, the curly head of his eldest -child was always to be seen; Nonnie and little Ada were always watching -for him on the verandah steps when he drove up; and no sooner did the -wheels crunch over the gravel than a pretty little wife would come -flying out with the brightest, pleasantest face imaginable, which she -never forgot to hold up for the kiss which was always forthcoming, -unless the children interfered, clinging about him as they did, and -clamouring for attention. - -Then came an interval of peace. Papa went to dress, and mamma sent the -little ones out for a walk; and when the old bachelor returned to his -verandah,—having been away for his bath meanwhile,—he would see his -gentle little neighbour seated at the tea-tray as placidly as if she had -not been busy the whole day running here and there,—now urging a -perverse “boy” to work, now disposing of a contumacious pedlar or -unreasonable _lengànan_,[39] or, most frequent occupation of all, flying -to soothe the children in the countless infantine woes and accidents -which were always occurring. - -[Illustration: - - “WHEN THE OLD BACHELOR RETURNED TO HIS VERANDAH.” -] - -It really _was_, and not merely in the old bachelor’s fancy, a pretty -sight. - -The wife got all the newspapers and letters, and the master of the house -innumerable cups of tea. He would retail all the items of news,—she, the -children’s pretty sayings and doings; and if she felt a craving to -unburden herself of domestic grievances, she found him ready to listen, -as far as appearances went, at least. - -“Is there no news to-day?” she asks, when the little disturbers of the -peace have been sent out, and her husband throws himself back -luxuriously in his lounging-chair. - -“Oh! yes, a great piece of news. Just guess.” - -“Oh! come; do tell me. You know I hate guessing.” - -“Well, then, a letter from our cousins the Martendijks. Where on earth -did I put it? Oh! here it is in my coat pocket. Well, there’s not much -in it, except that they ask if we will have them on a visit.” - -“The _Martendijks_!” Jo exclaims, her face lengthening. But immediately -she recollects that they are relations of her husband’s; and as this is -rather a sore point with him, she hastens to add: “What do _you_ say to -it, Max?” - -“Well, you see,” answers Max, “I have been wondering whether we should -not write that you are not yet strong enough for visitors.” - -Jo does not indeed look strong, with her fitful colour, and that languid -droop of the eyelids, but, like most mothers of a family who know how -ill they can be spared, she is loath to allow that she is not robust, -and does her best to persuade herself and every one else that, once she -has got over this or that, she will be perfectly strong. - -“No; you must not do that. We can’t let them stay on at that hot -Soeka-Manies, especially with the bad season coming on. When do they -propose to come?” - -“On the 5th.” - -“Good gracious! the day after to-morrow! And I have to put clean -curtains on the beds! They might have given us longer notice, I think. -Surely Emily knows as well as I do that there are always some -arrangements to make in a busy household.” - -“Then am I to write that they are welcome?” - -“Yes; we can’t well do anything else. Another cup of tea, dear?” - -Here follows a pause. Mr Van Elst puffs away contentedly at his cigar, -while his wife begins to fidget a little. At last, laying her hand on -her husband’s, she says, hesitatingly, “Do you know why their coming is -not very convenient just now, dear boy? the _godown_ is nearly empty.” - -“Empty _again_? My dear Jo, what on earth becomes of the things?” - -And as if this remark—a favourite one with married men, and generally as -unjust as it is senseless—were not enough, he continues, in an aggrieved -tone: “Good gracious, child! it is not three months since I ordered in a -whole supply. Are the four boxes of wine finished? And all those tinned -things? And all the casks of butter?” - -“No, not yet. If no visitors were coming, we could easily hold out for -another month; but you absolutely must order in a new supply now.” - -“A new supply! And the beer not paid for yet at the bazaar! It’s all -very well for you to talk, but you forget it’s easier to order than to -pay.” - -“Oh, Max! how can you speak so?” was Jo’s only answer. She might, if she -chose, have retorted that it was he who drank so much wine,—though -certainly _she_ required the stimulant more than he did,—that the tins -were rarely opened except on the numerous occasions when he brought home -friends to dinner, and that it was he who grumbled if the dinner ever -chanced to be a little scrimp. But she made no remark, and merely turned -a piteous little face to her husband, which resulted in his immediately -exclaiming: “Well, dear! don’t worry about it.” And then he continued, -impelled to vent his wrath on something,—“But living is so confoundedly -dear here, that a fellow is at his wits’ end to know what to do. And -then come visitors to ruin you altogether.... They asked for an answer -by wire,” he added, after a pause. - -“Well, it does cost a good deal of money,” said Jo; “but, oh dear! if it -is to please them!—” - -When the morning of the 5th came, the Van Elsts’ neighbour over the way -congratulated himself on his single blessedness, remarking to his dog, -“That’s what comes of getting married.” He relented after a little, -however, when his cup of coffee had put him in a somewhat better humour, -and added: “After all, Van Elst is not so much more tied than I am. It -isn’t often he’s interfered with. It’s a marvel how that woman always -finds time for everything.” - -To-day, however, Mrs Van Elst found it rather difficult to fit in -everything. She was dreadfully busy; and, as might be expected, lost her -temper a little, got cross with the “boys,” gave Nonnie a push, and Max -a sharp answer, and then was stung with remorse, and said, resentfully, -“that she could not understand why Cousin Martendijk had not written -sooner; it was such short notice,—such a nuisance!” - -It was indeed. For when Van Elst came home at mid-day, and she met him -with the query if everything did not look nice? he saw by her flushed -cheeks, and the dark rings under her eyes, that she had over-exerted -herself. - -“Yes, very nice indeed; but you have been doing far too much again,” he -said, reproachfully. “Do take a rest now,” he added, pouring her out a -glass of port. - -“Thanks, dear; but I must go and dress first.” - -“Yes, yes, presently,” he said, as he seated himself beside her on the -couch, holding her back as she struggled to free herself, and then -resorting to endearments and caresses which he well knew would retard -her escape. - -Presently a carriage drove up to the door. Jo sprang up in dismay, and -made a bold attempt at flight; but she was caught in the act, and found -herself face to face with the Martendijks! Very smart did Mrs Martendijk -look in her white gown, flounced and embroidered; and Jo became -painfully conscious of her own dishevelled hair, her soiled and crumpled -_kabaja_, and old faded _sarong_[40]. - -“My wife was just going to dress,” remarked Van Elst, aware of her -embarrassment; “we did not expect you before two o’clock.” - -“Yes, so we wrote; but we changed our plans. It would have made us so -late for luncheon, and that does not suit my complaint, you see,” said -Martendijk. - -“If you had sent me word, I’d have made a point of being ready,” said -Jo. - -“Well, of course, I had not time to think of that with all the bustle of -starting. How d’ye do, Njo?”[41] - -Now the reader must know that Njo, to whom Mrs Martendijk addressed this -remark, was the Van Elsts’ pride and joy. They had two dear little girls -besides—very fine children, too,—but Njo; their Njo! when _he_ came into -the room, the father’s and mother’s eyes wandered involuntarily in his -direction, and instinctively they would pause in their conversation to -allow their visitors an opportunity of expressing their admiration, and -their amazement, over “_Such_ a fine little fellow! Such a _huge_ -child!” - -“Our Njo” looked perfectly charming to-day. Mamma had brushed the pretty -brown curls herself, to do him justice in the eyes of her husband’s -relations; and it was with his most roguish expression, and his usual -winning manner, that he held up his little face with a merry laugh for -the new aunt to kiss. And Aunt said nothing but “How d’ye do, Njo?” - -Max glanced at his wife; but she replied by a sign which was meant to -convey some such remark: “You can’t blame her for it; she doesn’t -understand children,” and that checked Max’s rising resentment. - -All this time the poor hostess was sitting very ill at ease; she kept up -the conversation for a few minutes, and then asked if her cousin would -not like to be shown to her room. - -But Mrs Martendijk preferred to drink a glass of port first, so Jo had -to remain sitting in the _kabaja_ and _sarong_, which seemed to her more -soiled and faded every moment. - - - II. - -It was doubly annoying to the dainty little hostess to be surprised in -such slovenly attire, because this was her first introduction to the -Martendijks, and she had set her heart on making a good impression on -them. - -Though Emily and Johanna now met for the first time, their husbands were -cousins and old acquaintances. Van Elst had been under some obligation -to Martendijk’s father; and although he had not much in common with his -cousin, he had always remained on friendly terms with him, in -acknowledgment of his uncle’s past kindness. - -They had both gone abroad at the same time, and after the lapse of ten -years they thus met again, both married—the one managing partner in a -sugar factory, the other notary in a prosperous place in the eastern -province of Java. - -There was no resemblance, not even a trace of family likeness, between -the cousins. - -Max was a strongly built man of middle height, broad-shouldered, and -remarkably robust, with clear blue eyes, fresh colour, a full beard, and -a laughing mouth; while Piet Martendijk was one of those long lean men -whose appearance suggests that they have not been over fed in their -young days, with scanty whiskers and hair, a long neck, and alarmingly -thin legs; his complexion was sallow, his eyes lack-lustre, and his lips -without a smile, which made some ladies pronounce him interesting, -others distinguished, and men declare it a sin that he should have such -a fine-looking wife. - -She _was_ a good-looking woman, with her handsome and graceful figure, -her regular features, her luxuriant mass of dark hair, and her tasteful -dress. But, after a few days’ acquaintance, one found oneself wondering -curiously if there was nothing could call forth a change in the -expression of her eyes,—so cool was their gaze, and so indifferent, that -a warm heart involuntarily shrank before them. Impassive faces of that -sort have sometimes a certain fascination,—one is ready to imagine that -the well-controlled features mask some deeply hidden sorrow, some tragic -secret, that there is warm blood in the pale cheeks, and a passionate -heart beating in the seemingly placid bosom. But Mrs Martendijk’s whole -personality was so insignificant, her talk so trifling, and her smile so -cold, that it would have been difficult for the most romantically -inclined to find her interesting; and for the Van Elsts it was -absolutely impossible, as they knew her whole history. - -A most commonplace one it was. The eldest daughter of a man who had made -his money in the cheese trade, she had known Martendijk for years -without thinking of a tenderer relationship, and had got engaged to him -by correspondence, after he had been some time in the Indies, and the -idea suddenly occurred to him of winning her as his wife. As soon as the -old cheesemonger had made satisfactory inquiries into the prospects of -the sugar trade, all arrangements had been completed by letter, and she -had “come out.” - -[Illustration: - - “ONE OF THOSE LONG THIN MEN.” -] - -It was a childless marriage. Both professed themselves highly satisfied -with this state of matters,—an assertion which usually suggests the old -story of the fox and the grapes, but which might gain credence in this -case considering the peculiar tastes and dispositions of the couple. - -Fresh from her toilet, in her dainty white _kabaja_, with the faintest -touch of colour lending a downy softness to her pretty little face, Mrs -Van Elst stood in the verandah awaiting her guests. - -With the self-complacency of an active housewife she let her eye rove -over the tempting table, to the sideboard with its sparkling crystal, -and to the side-table where the dishes stood ready to be handed round. -“What a shame to let everything get cold,” she said to herself, greeting -Max as he entered with the query if the “boy” had not announced -luncheon. - -“Yes, and I have called them myself too,” says Max, a little crossly, -for he loves to have the curry served hot, “but they don’t seem to be -ready yet. How splendid it looks,” he continues, and, with a furtive -glance round to make sure that the children are out of the way, he helps -himself from one of the dishes to a leg of roast fowl. He has abundant -time to pick the bone leisurely before the guests appear, with the -immediate request from Emily that the door may be closed. - -“Oh, cousin,” Max exclaims, “it will be so frightfully stuffy here!” - -“Yes, but there’s such a draught just now; and that’s so dangerous for -Piet’s complaint, you see. So—if you don’t mind?” - -They seat themselves, and the “boys” begin to wait. Jo is glad to see -that the cook has exerted herself to the very utmost, and throws a -contented little nod across to her husband, as much as to say, “Now, -haven’t you a clever little wife?” to which he replies convincingly by -helping himself very liberally from the various dishes. - -All at once Jo discovers that Cousin Martendijk is eating away at _dry -rice_! - -“Won’t you have some curry?” she asks; “or perhaps you would rather——” - -“No, thank you, cousin, I often eat my rice dry.” - -“Do have a little piece of fricassee, then!” she exclaims in dismay, as -he lets even that indispensable dish pass. - -“No, it’s so dangerous to eat fricassee. You never know what it’s made -of. And when one is a martyr to indigestion——” - -“Oh, come,” Max exclaims impatiently, “you don’t need to be afraid of -anything of that kind here. Jo always makes the fricassee herself, and -most delicious it is, I assure you.” - -“Well, a small piece then.” - -Mrs Martendijk ate very little also; and Jo could not help noticing how -Cousin Martendijk, who was rather shortsighted, gave a disdainful sniff -every now and then at one or other of the dishes, and how his wife, -without even honouring them with a glance, sent away one after another -with a brief but decisive “_tida_.”[42] - -My gentle readers will admit that this was a very trying experience for -a hostess. Jo begins all at once to doubt her own domestic capabilities, -and the painful conviction grows upon her that the fowl must be very -tough, and the fish not fresh, and that there is a want of variety. A -sort of dumb rage at the cook gradually takes possession of her,—she has -such a trick of making the _sambalans_ too hot; and she casts a -vindictive glance at the “boy” when he forgets to hand round the -pickles. And when the pickles are likewise smelt, and examined, and -declined, she feels her face blaze, and her appetite vanish, and a wild -longing comes over her for the moment when she can give the signal to -rise from table. - -“My dear cousin,” began Emily the next morning, following Jo into the -store-room, where she was busy giving out provisions, “I think you were -rather hurt at our eating so little yesterday, were you not?” - -“Well, to tell the truth——” - -“Now then, to put it all right, I’ll just tell you what was the real -reason. You use cocoa-nut oil, don’t you? and you don’t make it at home! -I tasted that at once.” - -“No, that is true; the cook has enough to do as it is.” - -“Oh, my dear! don’t you pay any attention to a cook like that. They can -easily get through all their work. And do you know why Piet ate so -little? Everything was too strong for him. I’m just telling you, you -know, so that you may manage things better another time.” - -“Yes, but that won’t be so very easy,” Jo ventured, “because—well, you -see, my husband likes his food very highly seasoned.” - -“That _is_ a pity. But,” continued Emily, with an amiable little laugh, -“I know what you can do. Have some _sambal_[43] made separately for him, -and he can mix it with his food. We must adapt ourselves to one another, -must we not?” - -“Oh, certainly,” said Jo, “if there happens to be anything else you -don’t care for, or that is bad for Cousin Martendijk’s inside——” - -“Oh, no, thank you! We had a delicious dinner yesterday evening. Your -cook is a capital hand. Oh, wait a moment, though, I had nearly -forgotten. My good man is accustomed to have a cup of _bouillon_ about -eleven o’clock, and I a cup of chocolate—but it must be _chicken_-broth; -he is not allowed beef-tea.” - -“Very well,” said Jo, a vision immediately rising before her of the -wrath of her cook when told that not only was she expected to make the -cocoa-nut oil herself, but to prepare _kaldoe_[44] and chocolate at the -very busiest hour of the morning. It was enough to make her give notice -on the spot. - -Mrs Van Elst, to tell the truth, stood in considerable awe of this cook, -who was highly proficient in her art, used little butter, and did not -appropriate much of the marketing money; and, I appeal to you, what -mistress would not tremble at the thought of losing such a treasure? - -She paved the way, therefore, with some friendly remarks, and even went -the length of promising a new _sarong_ before she broached _the_ -subject; and flattered herself that all was going to end smoothly, when -cook all at once snatched up a basket of potatoes with one vicious jerk, -and with another laid hold of the rice, and closed the door of the -store-room behind her with a bang that thrilled her mistress from head -to foot. Jo knew what to expect. - -For the rest, Emily supplied a ready answer to the great question which -haunts Indian no less than Dutch housewives: what are we to have for -dinner to-day? It was virtually she who proposed the _menu_ every day. -“Do you know what I’d make to-day?” she would remark to Jo;—“one of -those dishes of macaroni, with ham and cheese.” Or, “If you want to give -Martendijk a treat, dear cousin, give him asparagus, he’s wild about -that.” Or, “Do you never make tarts, Jo?—You do?—Well, I have a -delicious recipe for one I can lend you if you like.” - -It was really very kind of Emily, Jo thought; and she had little more -cause to complain of her guest’s want of appetite, especially as Mrs -Martendijk had taken upon herself to make sure that nothing came to -table which might prove injurious to her husband’s digestion. - - - III. - -Visiting is more of a burden than a pleasure in Holland, where people -are confined within such narrow limits, and where the usual routine of -daily life must be gone on with as usual. - -The Dutch host may express the hope that you will “make yourself quite -at home,” adding that you are perfectly free to do what you like; but -when bedtime comes, he also informs you that they breakfast at eight -sharp, and his wife asks you in the sweetest manner possible to be so -good as not to keep the light burning; and both are rather hurt if you -do not evince any great anxiety to cultivate the acquaintance of all -their friends, and think it rather “strange” if you go out on your own -account. - -Only in the Indies can one “make one’s self quite at home,” and that -undoubtedly accounts for the interchange of visits being so much more -common there than with us, and for people who are barely acquainted -beforehand finding it possible to stay weeks and even months with one -another without inconvenience to host or guest. - -Even in the Indies, however, much depends on whether or not the visitors -are located in a detached part of the house. This is an arrangement -which commends itself especially to those who have children with them. -There are so many details to be attended to, and arrangements made in -that case, that the close proximity to strangers is a little awkward, -and the visitor has rather an anxious time of it in Holland. Every -mother knows the haunting dread lest the baby should take it into its -head to indulge in a prolonged fit of screaming in the middle of her -host’s mid-day nap, and she is painfully aware that childish freaks and -misdemeanours may not always meet with sympathy in their new -surroundings. - -But in the Indies these fears and worries are unknown. The children are -quartered in the detached part of the house, where they may romp and -scream to their hearts’ content; and there is no risk of interference if -punishment is required, nor need to blush for shame at one’s -powerlessness under the rule of a spoilt four-year-old tyrant. - -Others, besides happy parents, have reason to be grateful for the Indian -arrangement,—the young man with his late hours, the young lady with her -delicate little traffic in _billets-doux_ and bouquets, for instance. -And it commends itself highly to many a young couple, when the husband -takes a fancy to revive the days of courtship, or the young wife has set -her heart on a charming blue dress in the bazaar,—so cheap, and blue is -just the colour he likes her best in,—and so on. (We all know the sort -of talk that goes on, and how it ends.) And should it happen—for such -things _do_ occur—that they have a slight disagreement, and the tender -husband’s tone waxes warm, and his sweet little wife has recourse to -tears,—well, the courtyard is wide, and the host and hostess are totally -unaware of any disturbance; so, presently they trip into the verandah as -staid and as charming as if they never heard of “spooning,” not to speak -of squabbling. It is not at all unlikely that the host himself may have -profited by their absence, “_pour laver son linge sale en famille_.” - -The Van Elsts had a very nice visitors’ room detached from the rest of -the house, with a verandah opening on a pretty flower-garden. Jo was in -the habit of having her visitors’ breakfast set in this front verandah, -chiefly because she liked to devote the morning undisturbed to her -husband and children, and because, moreover, it was more convenient for -all domestic arrangements. - -But the very first morning after their arrival, Emily came, laughing, to -say that they thought it would be so much more sociable to breakfast -altogether, especially as Piet fancied it was a little damp over the -way, and he had to guard carefully against damp on account of his -complaint. - -The Van Elsts thought it charming of their guests to be so sociably -inclined, but it was a little awkward nevertheless; and Jo wondered, -with some surprise, how Emily did not understand that, though it might -be pleasanter for herself, it might be decidedly inconvenient for the -mother of three children to have her visitors about her so early. - -Jo had a great deal to do in the mornings, like all Indian ladies, -though Dutch housewives, we know, are inclined to be sceptical on that -point. The children had to be bathed,—an operation she liked to -superintend in person,—the clothes to be looked over, the washing and -sewing given out, the dinner ordered, and the thousand and one little -domestic duties attended to; it was generally eleven o’clock before she -was ready to sit down quietly. - -There was, of course, more than usual to do with the Martendijks in the -house, but Jo was ready at last, and having just about an hour to spare, -she was anxious to finish the little frock over which she had been busy -for some time, and which was only waiting for the buttons and trimming. - -“I hope I’m not intruding, Cousin Jo?” said a suave voice, and Emily -came in, and continued, regardless of the frock Jo held in her hand, -“Look here! I have a skirt which doesn’t hang well; do you think you can -see what’s the matter with it? I hear you are so neat-handed!” - -Jo laid the little frock aside with a sigh, and began with deft fingers -to examine the drapery. The fault was soon detected. The skirt must be -unpicked, the folds relaid and pinned down; and in the middle of this -process, Emily suggested sweetly that it was more than time Piet had his -broth. Jo ran off with all speed to the kitchen, where cook received her -with a withering glance, and when her mistress asked for the _kaldoe_, -assumed an air of dense stupidity which checked all further inquiry. -Only by dint of lifting one lid after another did Mrs Van Elst at length -discover a fowl floating in tepid water. - -Jo was not accustomed to yield,—not even to her invaluable cook,—nor had -she forgotten how to work in the Indies; so, soon she had the _kaldoe_ -simmering over a moderate fire, and the chocolate all ready save the -boiling water. But to procure boiling water seemed to require some magic -quite beyond the powers of an ordinary cook; an immense kettle, full to -the brim, was suspended over a low fire, the wood was apparently damp, -the kitchen full of smoke, and not a single clean saucepan was to be -found.... When Mrs Van Elst at last carried in the two cups, it -certainly was not only the heat which flushed her cheeks and made her -hands tremble! - -Emily did not seem to notice her agitation; she thanked her cousin quite -cordially for the trouble she had taken, evidently found the fragrant -chocolate very much to her liking, tasted the _kaldoe_ critically, and -when Jo expressed the fear that it was not strong enough, she smiled -good-naturedly, and had no doubt it would be better to-morrow! - -Her next proceeding was to beg Jo to try on the altered skirt, so that -she could judge better of the draping, and the time was spent in pinning -and laying folds till the “boy” came to announce dinner. - -Jo laid away the unfinished frock, hoping that perhaps to-morrow she -might make up for lost time. But next morning Emily proposed a visit to -the Chinese quarter, if her cousin would be so good as go with her,—she -had some shopping to do. And the third morning, just as Jo had once more -produced her work, Emily, who was sociably inclined, and did not care to -be alone, came to beg her cousin to be so very kind as to explain to her -how that lovely collar was made that she had on yesterday. - -Oh, certainly! Jo would tell her,—so much embroidery, and lace, and.... -“Wait a minute!” cried Emily; “I’ll just fetch what we need, and you can -help me; you are so clever at these things—much cleverer than I am! This -is a splendid chance, Jo, for me to go over my wardrobe; it is so much -cheaper to do up things one’s self than to be always going to a milliner -or dressmaker—and you _will_ help me, won’t you?” - - - IV. - -“Just listen to this!” exclaimed Van Elst, reading the foreign telegrams -at the tea-table that afternoon. “Russia has declared war against -Turkey.” - -“Indeed!” remarked Martendijk indifferently. “Well, I thought it would -come to that in the end.” - -“It’s really terrible,” Max went on. “How many wars does that make -within our recollection? And in our much-vaunted nineteenth century too! -I hoped they would have been able to avert this.” - -“Have your people Turkish or Russian bonds?” - -“No; why on earth should you think that?” - -“Oh, because you are so interested in that war. You would be in a bad -way in that case. It is great folly. We don’t have anything to do with -that sort of thing either—do we, Emily?” - -“No, indeed,” said Emily. “As far as we are concerned, all Europe can go -to war.” - -“Alas!” cried Jo, who had not been listening to this dialogue between -the couple. “What terrible news, Max! To think of the waste of strong -young lives, and all the wives and mothers who are left at home.” And -instinctively she drew little Jan towards her, and pressed him close. - -“Well, there’s no danger for _him_ in the meantime,” said Martendijk; -and Mr and Mrs Van Elst glanced at one another, as they had so often -done during the past few days, as if to ask what manner of people these -cousins could be. - -Mrs Martendijk was also glancing through a newspaper, and, suddenly -turning to her husband, she exclaimed, “What did I prophesy, Piet? Van -Dalem is in the bankruptcy court.” - -“Well, well!” said Piet. “After all, what else was to be expected. It’s -the last straw breaks the camel’s back! It is the man’s own fault. You -must understand, Max,” he continued, addressing his cousin, “this Van -Dalem was a near neighbour of ours. He came into a splendid business, -and might have been rolling in wealth in a few years; but you never saw -such a spendthrift. He was always thrusting himself forward, always -entertaining, always having visitors——” - -“Yes,” affirmed Emily; “and the worst of it was, while his wife was -giving parties, he was lending money right and left,—standing security, -advancing money to every beggar who came to him; he said he could not -refuse.” - -“Real good-natured folk, then?” asked Van Elst. - -“Oh, yes, good-natured enough as far as that went. I can’t tell you how -many widows he has given shelter to, how many little waifs she took in -from the native village (they have no children of their own), how many -forced sales he has put a stop to——” - -“Poor fellow,” cried Max, “I wish I could do something for him.” - -“It’s easy to say that, Max,” interposed Martendijk; “but,” and he -pulled his thin whiskers meditatively, “it comes to be a question if it -is right to sympathise with people of that kind. Is it not their own -fault that they have gone down in the world? Is it not inexcusable to -run through one’s money in that way?” - -“Inexcusable? I don’t agree with you there. At least he has run through -it in a way which speaks well for his heart, if not for his good sense.” - -“I am anxious to see if people will help him in his turn,” said Emily, -in a tone which irritated Van Elst beyond measure. - -“Of course they will,” he said, curtly. - -“Do you think so?” asked Martendijk, with some expression for once in -his weak face. “People are, as a rule, more ready to look you up when -they need you than when you need them. He certainly had a great many -friends; but we know what that amounts to. In any case,” he continued -after a pause, “it is safest to make sure that you will never be -dependent on any one’s help.” - -“That is true,” said Max. But as he spoke he left his seat abruptly, and -went to have a look at the flowers with little Jan. Jo very soon -followed him. It was very evident that he had lost his temper; and she -was always ready in such an emergency to do her best to drive away the -clouds as quickly as possible. - -“What’s the matter, dear?” - -“Oh! nothing. Rather disgusted; that’s all. How do you like the -Martendijks, Jo?” - -“Oh! not particularly. Perhaps it would be better to suspend our -judgment of them for a little, Max.” - -“I don’t see it,” said Max, sharply. “But, Jo, do you know what we might -do?” he added, hastily, seeing her shrink at his vehemence, “go for a -drive just now; then Jan can go too.” - -“Oh! yes, papa,” cried Jan, delightfully, “and sit on the box.” - -“My dear, the horses have been too far to-day already. Emily drove to -the Chinese camp, and was out for more than two hours.” - -“_Indeed!_” said Max. “Well, then, for goodness’ sake, let us stop at -home. That will be very nice too, won’t it, Jan? and we’ll build a -fortress.” - -Jo was satisfied that the clouds were fast dispersing; she took her -husband’s arm, and exerted herself to be specially bright and charming, -chattering to him about the children, and all sorts of interesting -things, and finally assisting at his toilet,—a favour he particularly -enjoyed,—and prattling all manner of pretty compliments to him. - -Max was in high good-humour when he left her to go for a turn with Jan. - -When Jo appeared, after a hasty toilet, she found their cousins in the -verandah before her, busy with the illustrated papers. - -That was a most innocent pastime certainly; but, alas! Martendijk had -taken possession of Max’s place and chair. - -Now Mrs Van Elst was the most accommodating little person imaginable, -and would have given up _her_ chair to any one in the world; but she was -quite different where _Max_ was concerned. - -“Oh! there’s my husband coming,” she exclaimed in a minute or two, as he -came up the drive with Jan; and as Martendijk showed not the slightest -disposition to take the hint, she added, as pleasantly as she could, -“Martendijk, I’m sure you are not aware that that is Max’s place?” - -“Yes, dear cousin,” said Martendijk, stretching himself with an air of -contentment. “To tell you the truth, I was quite aware of the fact; but -Emily chose this place for me, because there are such draughts -everywhere else.” - -“Oh! I am sure Cousin Max will be glad to give up his place to you for a -little,—won’t you, Max?” Emily struck in. - -To Jo’s relief, her husband assented, and Martendijk made himself as -comfortable as he could in his host’s chair. - -The children came in from their walk, and stayed as usual with papa and -mamma till bedtime,—a habit as pleasant for parents as for guests. - -They formed a pretty group, the three innocent child-heads, and at the -sight Max’s and Jo’s beaming eyes met, and at last the happy little wife -could not refrain from the question,— - -“Don’t you two think our children are little angels?” - -“Yes, darlings!” responded Emily. “So good and sweet-tempered; -especially little Jan, he doesn’t give you much trouble now.” - -“_Trouble!_” exclaimed Jo. “Oh! not one of them gives any trouble,—only -a very little when they are ill. But as long as they keep well I have -nothing but pleasure in them.” - -And she spoke the truth, for all cares and anxieties were light to her, -because so willingly borne. - -“I’d not mind having a boy like this, about three or four,” Emily -continued, drawing little Jan to her caressingly; “but a baby like -_that_” (with a glance at “charming little Ada”) “I consider -_horrible_.” - -“_Horrible!_” Jo shrank from her in dismay, indignant that any one -should speak so. But her anger was transient, for she immediately -remembered that it was not poor Emily’s fault that she had such strange -ideas; she really did not know what it was to have children of her own. - - - V. - -The Martendijks had been about three weeks with the Van Elsts, when the -solitary bachelor over the way began to observe some change in his -neighbours. - -The notary began to go earlier to his office, and to come home later. -The little wife, of whom he was growing rather fond by dint of watching -her so long, did not take her walks so regularly; and when she played -with the children in the garden in the morning, her laugh sounded less -merry than it once did. When the old gentleman (who seemed to have -assumed this privilege of observing his neighbours with special interest -because it _might have been_ his lot to have just such another family) -noticed that Mr Van Elst looked cross, and his wife very wearied, he -began to grow uneasy, and at last set on foot inquiries through the -medium of his own “boys” and those of his neighbours, which resulted in -the reassuring news that no one was ill. After that the old bachelor did -not know what to make of it. - -And yet the explanation was simple enough! - -To be ousted from your favourite seat, to have tasteless food set before -you, to see your delicate wife tired to death, your horses over-driven, -your store-room plundered, all this is very easy to bear,—nay, may even -be reckoned among the pleasures of hospitality, if your visitors are -agreeable people, whose society compensates for the lack of the usual -cosy _tête-à-tête_, and whose cordial interest in all your concerns -proves that they like you and appreciate the friendship you show them. -But, when you see that your guests regard you merely as convenient -people to spend some time with,—that they take advantage of your -hospitality, and honour you with no special cordiality in return,—when -they remind you, by their treatment, of certain fruits you throw away -once the juice is squeezed out, it is impossible to submit to the -visitation with a very good grace! - -That certainly was the case here. - -Van Elst, moreover, with his warm temperament and strength of character, -could ill brook his cold-blooded cousin. He liked men to be firm, and -women tender-hearted; and Piet was so weak, and Emily so cold, and the -two couples so directly opposed to each other in all their sentiments -and opinions, that the most innocent conversations often led to -collision. When, for example, Van Elst brought home the news one day -that one of their acquaintances had been suddenly taken ill, and Jo -asked, with a quaver in her voice and tears in her eyes, if she could do -anything to help the poor wife, Emily scarcely listened, and Piet only -to inquire anxiously what was the matter—he hoped nothing infectious! - -With regard to society, there was great diversity of opinion between the -couples. Up country in the Indies it is possible to live on such terms -with all the Europeans as to avoid giving offence, while at the same -time one cannot be intimate with all. One comes across many people there -who are wealthy, who entertain, and are to a certain extent admitted -into society, but of so low a stamp intellectually and morally that it -is impossible for respectable families to associate familiarly with -them. - -The Van Elsts had thus soon chosen their own friends, and to this select -circle they had introduced their guests. - -But the Martendijks struck up acquaintance with a family with whom they -had no wish to become intimate. - -“Good gracious!” said Max, who did not approve of this at all; “what is -there in that man to take your fancy?” - -“Not much,” replied Martendijk. - -“Surely his wife isn’t the attraction, then?—a stupid insignificant -creature like that!” - -“Yes, she is very stupid,” said Martendijk. “But she is a capital cook,” -he added, after a moment. - -“Well, but they’re not people to get so very intimate with. Perhaps you -don’t know that he has a very shady reputation,—it is well known that he -got that factory into his hands by a very dirty trick. They say he made -the former owner drunk, and then——” - -“That’s very likely true,” interposed Martendijk coolly; “he looks to me -just that sort of man. But that does not prevent his keeping capital -wine, and being very generous with his help——” - -“For any sake hold your tongue!” cried Max, suddenly turning his back on -his guest. - -But the most violent explosion took place one morning at the -breakfast-table, when the conversation turned upon one of their aunts—a -sister of Martendijk’s father and Max’s mother—who was in great poverty, -and had been very unfortunate. - -“I have not troubled my head about her for years,” said Piet. “I may -tell you I make a point of interesting myself only in my respectable -relatives.” - -“You mean in those who have got on well in the world,” observed Max. -“Aunt Liza is a worthy respectable woman, whose only fault is her -poverty.” - -“But she had no position at all in Delft,” said Emily. (Martendijk was -silent: he preferred not to argue with his cousin when Max’s eyes -flashed like that.) “She dealt in tea, I think, or knitting-cotton, or -something of that kind.” - -“Yes, just so, in _tea_,” said Max; “exactly in the same way as your -husband deals in sugar, and your father in cheese. Good-morning!” - -“Good gracious, Jo, what a temper your husband is in!” exclaimed Emily, -who was determined not to take offence, because she was very comfortable -with Martendijk’s relatives, and the building at their own place at -Soeka-Manies—the real reason for their visiting—was still going on. - -“Yes,” said Martendijk, the courage of his opinions returning as soon as -he heard Max drive away; “I don’t see why on earth he should get so -excited!” - -What surprised the Van Elsts more than anything else, was the relation -of the couple to one another. The same man and woman, who had not one -grain of sympathy for the troubles of others, or for the most terrible -national calamity, and who were totally impervious to the sufferings of -even their friends and relations, were full of devotion to one another. - -If Piet was not quite the thing, Emily was full of anxiety; and if she -looked worried, Piet did his best to conquer his despondency. In short, -disagreeable though they were in every other respect, they were a model -couple. It was difficult for a third person to start any subject of -conversation with them, because nothing interested them which did not -affect themselves directly or indirectly; but they were never at a loss -for a subject when by themselves, and their conversation was -inexhaustible so long as they could devote themselves unreservedly to -the discussion of their own affairs, bringing every effort of mind to -bear on what concerned them alone. - -_Money_ was a favourite topic: how they could enjoy this or that -together—it was always together!—without much expense; how to manage -their domestic expenditure most satisfactorily; how to invest a small -sum securely—and so on. - -They spent so long over these interesting details, that it was -impossible for outsiders to take any part in their discussions. - - - VI. - -“Just look here a minute, Max; is it my fancy, or does Jan look a little -pale to-day?” asked Mrs Van Elst one morning, as she went out to the -verandah to see her husband off. - -“Of course it is your fancy,” said Max, who made a point of never -allowing that any of the children were ill,—a device intended to calm -their nervous mother, but which always had precisely the contrary effect -“Come here a moment, Njo; your mother says you’re not well. Come, my -boy, tell me what’s the matter with you,” he added less carelessly, as -Jan, usually anything but slow to respond to his father’s call, dragged -himself listlessly towards them, and sank down upon a chair. - -“Not comf’ble, papa—headache!” was all he vouchsafed. - -Max took him on his knee, and glanced at his wife. Yes, the old story; -she was pale, her lips trembled, and her eyes were bent tenderly and -anxiously on the child. It was this readiness to take alarm which caused -Jo more suffering than the patient, whenever her husband or children -were ailing. - -“Shall we just send for the doctor, dear?” - -“No; did I ever!” cried Max. “The man would think we were mad. Because -Njo has a little headache, forsooth! Come, my boy, go and play.” - -“_Play!_ Good gracious! Max, just feel how hot his head is.” - -“Well, put him to bed then. You can do that at least,” and he laughed, -as it seemed to her, heartlessly, and called her “a silly thing”—a -jocular remark which was met by none of Jo’s usual repartees. - -“Papa must come too,” was Jan’s command, and we know that no general is -better obeyed by his soldiers than a sick child by its parents. So Max -carried his boy first over one shoulder, then over the other, after -which he had to creep on all fours round the room, roaring like a lion, -before Njo would be laid down. The patient was not particularly disposed -to go to sleep; he allowed papa to coddle him, and mamma to bring him -lemonade, and did as many children do when much notice is taken of their -ailments—made himself out much worse than he really was. - -When it was really impossible for his father to remain longer, he coaxed -and whimpered a little, and finally cried himself to sleep, so that Jo -was free to enjoy a quiet hour by his bedside with her work-basket, for -every available moment must be snatched to make up for the time lost -through Emily’s visit. - -Their visitors had gone out very early that morning to call on one of -their new acquaintances, a sugar manufacturer like Martendijk. It was so -pleasant to come across some one in your own line, he remarked; they -could discuss one thing and another while driving or walking together, -and one got many a hint and idea in that way. - -On their return home, the “boy” told them “Sinjo Jan” was ill. - -“Oh, dear! that’s always the worst of visiting where there are -children,” said Martendijk, as he sipped his _bouillon_; “there’s always -something wrong.” - -“Well, this would not be much to speak of,” said Emily, “only I’m afraid -it may interfere with to-morrow evening.” - -It must be explained that the Martendijks had talked so much about the -attention shown to them on all sides as the Van Elsts’ guests (and they -certainly had not been slow to avail themselves of the social advantages -of the neighbourhood), that Jo felt at last obliged to give a small -party in acknowledgment of the courtesy shown to them. - -Her guests need never know all it had cost her to talk Max over, and -how, when one argument after another failed to win over her perverse -lord and master, she had at last taken refuge in that weapon which loses -its power when too often used, and is the very last resort therefore of -a clever woman—I mean tears. - -For, though Jo would hardly admit the fact even to herself, Max had not -been just altogether pleasant to deal with of late,—indeed, he had -really been quite disagreeable and cross, and very unwilling to -acknowledge himself in the wrong. - -His liver had been bothering him for some little time (no wonder he -grumbled), and Jo, only too ready to find satisfactory excuses for his -ill-temper, was glad enough to reiterate constantly to her visitors, who -had also a good deal to stand from his bearish ways, how the liver -affects the temper, and how wretched it makes one feel. - -This did not prevent their cousins from assuring one another repeatedly, -once they were safe in their own room, that Max was a disagreeable -fellow, and that were it not for the comfortable quarters they were in, -and the building going on at home, they would remain no longer. For so -wrapt up were they in themselves and in one another, and so absorbing -was their _egoïsme à deux_, that it was impossible for them to realise -how actions and remarks like theirs affected others; therefore, of -course, they blamed Cousin Max for the rather strained relations which -had come about. - -As soon as she had drunk her chocolate, Emily betook herself to the -nursery to see what were the prospects for the party. - -“Well, dear cousin,” she began, making no attempt to lower her somewhat -harsh voice, “what is this I hear? Is little Jan ill?” - -“I am very much afraid he is,” said Jo; “he is so restless in his -sleep.” - -“A little feverish, perhaps,” said Emily, taking the child’s hand in her -own for a moment. “I’d give him a good dose of quinine,” she continued, -“and he’ll be all right by to-morrow evening.” - -“Why to-morrow evening,” asked Jo, puzzled. - -“Did I ever! Have you forgotten all about that? Why, it was to-morrow -evening we were to have that party.” - -“Dear me, so it was,” cried Jo. “I’d nearly forgotten all about it. But, -of course, if he is ill it will have to be put off.” - -“Oh, yes, of course,” said Emily, “if he is ill. But it’s surely nothing -serious. You always get frightened so quickly.” - -“Yes, I do, it is true; and it really can’t be anything. But oh, Emily, -he is such an angel, my Njo! and you always see that particularly sweet -children don’t live long.” - -The wet eyelashes and quivering lips were not without their effect even -on cold Mrs Martendijk. - -“Well, well,” she said kindly, “I would not worry about that. Jan has -his naughty fits just like other boys; and besides, if all the children -were to die whose mothers consider them ‘almost _too_ good’ for this -world, there would not be many left.” - -Seeing how nervous Jo got, and how the event generally proved her fears -groundless, Max was always making resolutions not to yield to such -exaggerated anxiety another time. So when he came home at mid-day and -found his wife still occupied with the child, he coolly carried her off -to another room, and gently but firmly forbade her to leave it until she -had rested for a few hours. - -Jo was too tired to resist, and soon fell asleep. She did not awake till -late in the afternoon, for which she could not forgive herself, though -it was, in fact, the best thing that could have happened, considering -the disturbed night she was to have. It did not need much persuasion to -induce Max to send for the doctor next morning. - -Emily took care to be in the verandah when he stopped to say a few words -to Mrs Van Elst after his visit to the little patient. - -“There’s not much the matter is there, doctor?” she asked. - -“No—at least I think not,” was his reply. “It’s not easy to predict in a -case of illness, but, as far as appearances go, it seems to me an -ordinary cold.” - -“There, you see, Jo, what did we all tell you? You do get anxious so -soon!” - -“Well, you see, I have so much to lose,” said Jo deprecatingly. - -“If it gives you any pleasure to worry,” said the doctor, “you had -better do so about yourself, and not about that sturdy little chap,”—and -with a compassionate glance at the young wife, who had already been so -often a patient of his, he took her hand in his own. “You’re not looking -so well as you did, Mrs Van Elst,” he said. “You wear yourself out, and -don’t do enough to get up your strength. I shall have to scold in good -earnest—or speak to Van Elst.” - -“Oh, no, for goodness’ sake, don’t do that!” exclaimed Jo, glad that Max -was safe in his office. “How angry he would be!” - -“Well, Jo,” said her guest, when the doctor had gone, “that _is_ a -relief. An ordinary cold, it will be better in a day or two. Now let us -set to work to get ready for the party.” - -“Oh, dear Emily, what do you think? Shall we not rather put it off?” - -“Put it off? and why? Come, Jo, what’s the matter with you? All the -invitations are out already.” - -“I’d like to have it for your sake,” Jo began again; “you know that, -don’t you? But I am _so_ tired! I never closed an eye last night; and -there is so much to be done—baking, and all that.” - -“Well,” said Emily, “surely your maid can help you?” - -“Siah? Oh, no; she must stay with Njo—she’s his old ‘baboe.’[45] No, -really, it can’t be managed. Oh, if you only knew how dead tired I am!” -and the poor little woman sank into a chair, and closed her eyes as if -to shut out the mountain of work that the mere thought of the party -conjured up. - -“If _I_ undertook all the trouble,” asked Emily, after a moment’s -reflection, “could we go on with it then?” - -“Oh yes,” said Jo, “if you would be so very good.” - -She was too much absorbed in her sick child to trouble herself much -about the success of the party, else she would have been decidedly -uneasy; for it had gradually dawned upon her that Emily did not know -much of the noble art of cookery. Notwithstanding her great readiness to -recommend dishes and to lend recipes, she had never yet concocted -anything herself; and even when Jo had begged her to help with a few -domestic duties on specially busy days, she had always tried to get out -of it. To-day it was quite different, however. - -She asked for the keys, and in ten minutes had all the “boys” and maids -hard at work; while she herself was here, there, and everywhere, -thinking of everything,—making cakes, planning the _menu_, and all with -a deftness and briskness which were quite enviable. - -“Oh dear!” thought Jo, when she saw her cousin’s activity, “if she had -only helped me like that sooner, how much nicer it would have been -having visitors.” - -Jo arranged the flowers; Martendijk the card-tables; Emily superintended -the supper; and by mid-day everything was ready. - -Emily went to take a nap, while her hostess did the same, so as to be -bright and fresh when the evening came. - -And so probably she would have been, after a quiet undisturbed sleep; -but the little patient grew worse about the middle of the day; and when -his father came home, he saw at once that the child was feverish. - -“Oh, dear Max,” sighed Jo, “what a worry! A sick child, and that party -in the evening!” - -“_Party!_” cried Max, to his wife’s great consternation. “It’s out of -the question. Did you think I’d ever allow that? Certainly not. What a -mad idea to think of having people here to-night! Emily’s at the bottom -of that, I’ll be bound.” - -“No, indeed, dear. I was quite anxious for it too,” pleaded Jo, -shielding her guest at the expense of her own truthfulness. “And oh, -Max, Emily has been so good; she arranged everything, and I have had -nothing at all to do.” - -“Of course she helps you now, as it’s her party, and she is bent on -having her own way,—but I’ll soon see who is master in my house. The -party will _not_ go on, I tell you. I’ll have the people put off. Where -are the boys?” - -Van Elst had spoken so loud in his passionate outburst, that it needed -no eavesdropping to find out his intentions; and perhaps that was the -reason that Emily appeared so opportunely just then. - -“Oh! excuse me, cousin,” he exclaimed apologetically, running against -her in his hurry. “Do you know where the boys are?” - -“They are round at the back,” said Mrs Martendijk, looking brighter and -livelier than he had ever seen her. “Look here, cousin,” and she took -his arm confidentially to lead him to the back verandah, “have we not -worked well to-day? Everything is ready——” - -“But the party can——” began Max. - -“And should you like to see what you’re going to have to-night?” And in -the same friendly manner he was conducted to the pantry. “Just look at -that magnificent trifle. And are not the tarts a success? But the -_pâtés_ are _the_ thing. They look just as if they came straight from -the best confectioner’s—do they not?” - -“I am really sorry you have had so much trouble, and I must say it all -looks beautiful; but the party cannot possibly go on,” repeated Max, -firmly. - -“What do you say?” - -“Yes; it’s a great pity, and I can understand how annoyed you feel; but -Jan is decidedly worse....” - -Emily had recovered her composure by this time. - -“Jan worse! My word! I had no idea of that,” she cried. “Gracious! -cousin, if I had known that an hour sooner; and now the punch is made!” - -It was now Max’s turn to be disconcerted. - -“What do you say?” he exclaimed. - -“Well, it was time it was done, you see;” and Emily seated herself. “One -would really need to know everything beforehand,” she went on, coolly; -“then we should at least not have opened those fine wines and the -expensive champagne. The supper will cost a great deal too, to be sure, -and the money’s all thrown away now; but we can eat everything some time -or other among ourselves.” - -“The _punch_ won’t keep, I suppose?” asked Max. - -“Oh no! it _is_ a pity Jan is so ill.” - -“Oh, he’s not so very much worse!” exclaimed Max impatiently. “But what -a wretched amount of stuff,” he added, after a moment, when he had made -a rapid mental calculation of the needless expense, and realised how -odious it would be to see Piet and Emily devouring all the dainties. “If -only Jo was not so very tired.” - -“Yes; it would be very unfortunate if she were not able to appear. But -we can always see how Jan is; and if she were to decide at the last -moment to stay with the child,—well, I’d be glad to do the honours.” - -“For goodness’ sake let it be, then,” said Max; and as his guest made -her escape as fast as she could, without prejudice to her dignity, he -sent a wish after her which was more expressive than courteous. - -Emily only enjoyed a little laugh at his helpless fury, congratulating -herself on the success of her diplomacy, for on hearing about -half-an-hour before that the child was worse, she had given orders to -have the punch mixed; and when she stepped into the store-room, she was -met with a request from Piet, who had been told off to superintend, to -taste and see if the ingredients were right. - - - VII. - -Jo did _not_ appear that evening. Jan complained of sore throat; and the -mother, in her dread of diphtheria, sent for the doctor at once, and -remained at the child’s bedside, in spite of his assurances that nothing -was the matter. Emily did the honours, and appeared to enjoy it. - -Though each of the guests had privately resolved not to stay late for -the little boy’s sake, it was two o’clock before the last had departed, -and three before the house was quiet. Indeed absolute quiet there never -was that whole night, for Jo, as she lay awake, heard first all sorts of -unaccountable sounds proceeding from the guests’ apartment, and then an -excited calling out for servants, who either could not or would not -hear, followed by a knocking at her own door, and an agitated demand for -laudanum, and a confused story about salad and punch, which might be the -death of people who suffered from internal complaints. Tea must be -infused, and hot-water bottles filled; but when Jo sprang up eager to go -and help, her husband held her back authoritatively. He had feigned to -be asleep all the time, but when the door was shut, while the strange -sounds continued to be heard, then he was seized with such an -uncontrollable fit of laughter, that Jo was infected by his merriment, -and lay in mortal terror lest Emily should hear them, or Jan be -awakened. - -But Jan was the last to think of awaking. He slept not only the whole -night, but far into the morning. Max was not permitted to go to his -office before he should awake, for just as she would have thought it -“very alarming” if he had not slept at all, so it seemed to be “very -alarming” that he should sleep so long. - -At last, about nine o’clock, he opened his eyes. The rest seemed to have -done him good, for not only did he demand bread and butter, but, as soon -as his glance fell on the new box of bricks papa had bought for him the -day before, he jumped out of bed, and seated himself on the floor to -play, as if nothing had happened. - -“How is the poor little throat?” asked Jo, as soon as she had recovered -from her glad surprise. - -“My throat?” repeated the child wonderingly; “my throat is not ill.” - -Max was so relieved, and thought it such a capital joke that he burst -out laughing; even the Martendijks laughed; and Jo tried to join in, but -the joy was too sudden after the anxiety she had undergone, and she -broke into a hysterical fit of weeping instead. - -“There you are now! I told you so—insisting on the party like that!” -cried Van Elst, losing his temper completely. - -“What kind of an outbreak is that?” asked Emily, forgetting the repairs -at home for the moment, in order to give vent to her indignation. - -“What is it? It is your fault, Emily, if she is laid up. I could have -told you beforehand,—Jo is not fit for all that worry and fuss!” - -Emily followed her husband from the room—the thought of the building -recurring to her; while Van Elst led his wife away. - -When the doctor came, he spoke of over-excitement, nervous strain, and -prescribed strong beef-tea, absolute quiet, and keeping to her room. Jo -submitted. Jan was nearly all right again; it had been a mere cold, and -in her joy and gratitude for his recovery, she could have submitted to -much; to remain in one’s room, however, is a trial to appreciate which -one must be the mother of three children. - -“Your visitor can surely manage the house for a few days?” the doctor -had said. But, strangely enough, now the party was over Cousin Emily -seemed totally incapable of domestic duties. - -So Jo lay listening to piercing cries from Nonnie, who was evidently -tumbling downstairs, and hungry little Ada’s wails would penetrate to -her ears; or the maid would appear one moment, the “boy” the next, to -ply her with questions. Worse than all were the fears she created for -herself,—Jan would be sure to catch cold, or the children would venture -too near the well or the cistern; who was to put away all the plate and -crystal? and would not the servants appropriate all the remains of the -feast? - -Luckily Van Elst came home early; but he brought no balm to Jo’s heart, -for when he saw that she was no better, he began by scolding her, and -then abruptly left the house. - -This was the very opportunity his neighbour over the way had been -watching for. - -With apparent unconcern he sauntered across his own grounds, where he -had lain in ambush for some time; for ever since he had witnessed the -doctor’s repeated visits, his curiosity had known no bounds. - -“Well, Mr Van Elst,” he began, feigning great surprise at meeting him -there, “and how are you all at home?” - -“Oh, first-rate,” said Van Elst; “mother sick, child sick, and husband -no longer master in his own house!” - -“Bless me!” said Mr Smits. “Come, I’ll walk up and down a bit with you. -I understand how it is when the wife is ill, especially a wife like -yours, but we’ll hope she’ll soon be herself again. And then things will -be all right, won’t they?” - -This was very diplomatic on Mr Smits’s part; he wanted to know about -more than the wife’s illness. It was a well-calculated move, for the -whole story came out. - -“_All right!_ No, indeed, we shall not. What upsets my temper is those -guests of mine. You will hardly believe, Mr Smits, what a tiresome, -irritating fellow that Martendijk is, with his terror of infection, and -his eternal complaints about his health. And what a heartless creature -his wife is! But, above all, what studied egoists they both are!” - -Mr Smits had to hear it all; how worn-out Jo was; how their guests had -taken advantage of them; how he had been driven into giving that -confounded party. “And if I could once for all just give them a piece of -my mind—but you see I can’t, as they are my guests. My wife is always -giving me nudges and winks to keep me quiet; and if I do break loose -occasionally, I get nice little scoldings from her into the bargain. Oh, -there’s no standing the life I lead just now!” - -“And is there no chance of their leaving soon?” asked Mr Smits. - -“Oh, no! they talk of remaining another month at least,” replied Van -Elst, in so despairing a tone, that his neighbour pitied him from the -bottom of his heart. - -“But if there are unwelcome guests in one’s house, it’s surely easy to -find some way of getting rid of them?” - -“I don’t know any way. They are not particularly sensitive on some -points.” - -“You may ask what old Smits has to do with it,” began the bachelor; “but -you must remember I have gradually grown to take an interest in you and -your wife.” - -“Take care, Mr Smits, I am jealous,” cried Max, who had totally -recovered his good-humour now he had unbosomed himself. - -“Absurd! an old fellow of sixty!” said Mr Smits, not a little flattered. -“But what I wanted to ask you was, may I try to devise some plan for -your deliverance?” - -“Oh, yes; and if you succeed I’ll be grateful to you all my life.” - -The first thing put into Van Elst’s hand next morning, when he sat down -to his early coffee in the verandah, was a carefully sealed note from -his old neighbour over the way. It was concise, and to the point. - - “FRIEND,—Your wife is feverish. Your cousin has a dread of infection. - Is there any danger of typhus?—Yours, - - “SMITS.” - -With a heartier laugh than he had indulged in for a long time, Van Elst -sprang to his feet. “The very thing! What a capital idea!” He would take -steps at once. - -“How is Cousin Jo?” asked Emily half-an-hour later at the -breakfast-table. - -“No better,” said Max gravely; “I would not go near her if I were you, -Cousin Emily; I think she’s asleep.” - -The doctor came, and pronounced the patient convalescent; so he sat -chatting sociably with her for some time, and then left her, prescribing -a tonic. - -Scarcely was he gone when Max joined his cousins in the front verandah. - -“What a long time the doctor stayed,” Emily remarked. “It’s nothing -serious, is it?” - -Van Elst preserved an ominous silence. - -“Cousin Jo will soon be going about again, I hope?” asked Martendijk, -with some concern; for domestic affairs had not gone so smoothly, nor -had they, personally, fared so well, since Mrs Van Elst had been laid -up. - -Max’s face assumed a very serious expression. “Going about! No, indeed, -not for a while yet.” - -“What do you say?” - -“Well, you see—h’m—after all,” said Max, as if making a sudden resolve, -“I think it’s best to tell you frankly, the doctor is afraid of typhus -fever.” - -“_Typhus!_” shrieked Martendijk. “Good Heavens! Emily, d’ye hear?” - -“Yes,” said Emily, and, to her credit, we must confess that her first -thoughts flew to the poor husband and children, who, if the worst should -happen, would lose so devoted a wife and mother. “Alas! Cousin Max,” she -said, “how terrible.” - -“Was the doctor quite sure of it?” asked Martendijk, his face blanched -with mortal terror, the remembrance of which long remained an unfailing -source of amusement to Van Elst. - -“No, not at all certain; he thought it might perhaps be small-pox,” he -replied. - -Martendijk stared at him in the wildest consternation. - -“Good God!” he stammered, “that’s no trifle either. Small-pox and typhus -fever! One every bit as infectious as the other!” - -“Yes,” said Max, “small-pox especially. Well, I’m off to the office,” he -concluded. “Good-morning, you’ll go and see after my wife every now and -then, won’t you, Emily?” he asked, as he sprang into his _bendy_. - -“No, Emily, indeed you’ll do nothing of the kind, I hope,” cried -Martendijk, as soon as Van Elst was beyond earshot. “You might bring -back infection, and——” - -“Ah! Piet, you really are rather a coward in that respect.” - -“Yes; but, Emily, _small-pox_! Just fancy if you were to take it——” - -“Well, of course; but you need not be so ready to accept it as a fact. -If Max were sure of it he would not have been so calm about it.” - -“Dearest,” and Piet’s voice was as meek as any child’s, “I hope you -agree with me, we must get away from this _at once_.” - -“What would people say if we left Jo——” - -“Oh! my dearest wife, do not agitate me with all these objections!” - -“It looks so cowardly, Piet. And the climate here agrees with you so -well. And the building is not finished yet.” - -“Well, we must just make the best of it. Anything rather than remain in -this infected atmosphere. Oh, Emily, dearest Emily, have you no more -affection for your husband? O Lord! the pain, the pain! The shock has -set it going again!” - - * * * * * - -When Van Elst came home from his office at mid-day, his “boy” brought -him another letter. It was not from Smits this time, however, but from -the Martendijks. - - “DEAR COUSINS (it ran),—You will quite understand our haste to get - away, now your house is attacked by such a terrible epidemic. We would - willingly have remained much longer, and it is our intention to repeat - our visit soon. - - “In the meantime accept our cordial thanks for the hospitality you - have shown to us. - - “Though your behaviour to us has not been all it might have been, dear - Cousin Max, we do not bear you the slightest grudge, and are quite - ready to excuse it, knowing what a bad effect the liver has on the - temper. - - “We wish dear Jo a speedy recovery, and earnestly trust that she may - be spared to her husband and children.—With our kindest regards, your - affectionate cousins, - - “P. & E. MARTENDIJK.” - - “Hurrah!” exclaimed Van Elst. “Hurrah! Jo! our guests are gone!” - - Though Jo received the news with considerable consternation, and - thought it disgraceful and inexcusable in Max to joke about anything - so terrible as typhus fever (in which Max agreed with her penitently), - it was amazing how rapidly she sprang out of bed,—the departure of her - guests proving more effective than all the doctor’s tonics. - - So when their old neighbour strolled past the Van Elsts’ house a - little later, with an air of indifference, and Max rushed out to tell - him the glad news, and to thank him for his friendly and timely help, - he found Mrs Van Elst in the verandah, as bright and merry as ever, - ready to assure him—though she insisted on thinking it a disgraceful - proceeding!—that he had done her a great service by his lucky - inspiration. - - An invitation to a quiet dinner on the following day was the result; - and the dinner was so good, the host in such excellent spirits, and - the hostess so sweet, that the solitary old bachelor caught himself - thinking, as he always did when a spectator of the Van Elsts’ domestic - bliss, “I might have known this sort of thing too, if only——” - - ANNIE FOORE. - - - - - BIOGRAPHICAL INDEX OF WRITERS. - - -[Illustration] - - BUNING, ARNOLD WERUMEUS, born at Uithuizen (Groningen), in 1846, and - served in the Dutch navy from 1861 to 1876, when he was forced by - ill-health to retire on a pension. He then settled in his native - town, but afterwards removed to the Hague, where he now lives. He - is the author of a great number of short stories, mostly more or - less naval, and one or more novels, of which the principal is “The - Burgomaster’s Inheritance” (Leyden, 1873), and frequently - contributes to _Eigen Haard_ and Elsevier’s _Geïllustreerd - Maandschrift_. He is not remarkable for the subtleties of humour, - his genius being more akin to the rattling fun and boisterous - spirits of such writers as Captain Marryat and the late Henry - Kingsley. But he can be touching too, and there is unaffected - pathos as well as fun in the little volume, “Marim-Schetsen,” from - which our extract is taken. The education of the orphan boy by his - father’s old mate, “The Red ’Un,” who trains him up with unsparing - rigour in the way in which all good sailors should go, is good in - both ways; so is the sketch (in _Verschillende Ouwe Heeren_) of - old Jan Hallema, the Hilligermond pilot. - - CATS, JACOB,[46] born at Brouwershaven, in Zeeland, 1577; died - September 12, 1660; and was buried in the Kloosterkerk at the - Hague. He studied law at Leyden, and then travelled in France and - Italy. Returning, he practised as a lawyer in his native town for - some years. His health gave way, and he visited England in order - to consult Dr William Butler, at Cambridge, but received no - benefit. He went home to die, but was unexpectedly cured by a - strolling alchemist. He then settled at Middleburgh, and married. - His profession seems to have left him abundant leisure for poetry, - and for enjoying the society of his family at his country place of - Grypskerke. It was during this period he produced his “Emblems of - Fancy and Love,” “Galatea,” “Mirror of Past and Present,” and - “Marriage” (Houwelick). In 1621 he was appointed Pensionary - (stipendiary magistrate) of Middleburgh, and in 1623 transferred - to the same office at Dordrecht. In 1627 he was sent on a - diplomatic mission to England, and knighted by Charles I. After - his return he lost his wife, and dedicated to her memory the - _Trouwringh_ (“Wedding Ring”), published in 1635. In 1636 he was - chosen Grand Pensionary of Holland, resigned his office in 1651, - and in 1657 went on another unsuccessful embassy to England, where - he delivered a Latin oration before the House of Commons. On - coming back to Holland he retired to his villa of Zorgvliet, near - the Hague, where he devoted himself once more to farming and - poetry, and died at the age of seventy-three. He has always been a - most popular writer in Holland, his mixture of canny morality and - shrewd homely wit being in thorough accordance with the national - genius, which found his long-windedness no drawback. His - reputation for “soundness,” and his tendency to preach also, no - doubt secured his popularity among a nation peculiarly suspicious - of heterodoxy, frivolity, and anything “without a moral at the - end,” though it must be said that his notions of propriety appear - to be somewhat large when judged by present-day standards. It may - seem difficult to believe, after all this, that he possessed the - faintest spark of humour; but his shrewd mother wit makes him - sometimes amusing, even to an outsider, and now and then he - records a touch of that “detached outlook in life, which goes to - the making of a real humorist.” Southey, who read Dutch among - other things, and was probably introduced to a great deal of Dutch - literature by the poet Bilderdijk, has a highly complimentary - reference to him in the epistle to Allan Cunningham: - - ... “Father Cats, - The household poet, teacheth in his songs - The love of all things lovely, all things pure. - Best poet, who delights the cheerful mind - Of childhood, stores with moral strength the heart - Of youth, with wisdom maketh mid-life rich, - And fills with quiet tears the eye of age.” - - Cats’ works used to occupy in Dutch households the position of the - “Pilgrim’s Progress” and Fox’s “Book of Martyrs” in old-fashioned - English ones. He is still popular, not only among his Protestant - countrymen, but even in Belgium, and a complete edition of his - works has lately been issued at Antwerp. It includes a large - collection of proverbs, some of the quainter ones being given in - the text. A translation of some of his “Zinne-Beelden” was - published, under the title of “Moral Emblems,” by Richard Pigott, - in 1860, in a large and handsome volume, with reproductions of the - original woodcuts. - - CREMER, JACOBUS JAN, born at Arnheim in 1827, is now living at the - Hague. He devoted himself for a time to painting, but in time - entirely abandoned the pencil for the pen. He is most successful - in his village stories, the best being located in his native - “Betuwe,” which he calls “The Paradise of Holland.” The list of - his works, which include novels, short stories, and sketches - (published in serial collections), and plays, is far too long to - reproduce. Like Dickens, he was at one time conspicuously - successful in giving readings and recitations from his own works. - - DEKKER, EDWARD DOUWES, best known by the pseudonym of _Multatuli_, was - born at Amsterdam, March 2, 1820. He went to Java in 1840 or 1841, - with his father, the captain of a vessel, and shortly afterwards - obtained a Government clerkship. After a succession of - appointments in different places, at one of which he made the - acquaintance of the lady who afterwards became his first wife,[47] - he became “Assistant Resident” at Lebak,—a post which he threw up - in 1856, because the Governor-General would not listen to his - representations with regard to the extortion and tyranny practised - by the native chiefs, and (indirectly) by the Dutch Government. - Coming home, he embodied his opinions and experiences in the novel - of “Max Havelaar,” which, crude and formless as a literary - production, startled the reading public with its origin and - audacity, and, having regard to the effect it produced, may fitly - be called the Dutch “Uncle Tom’s Cabin.” For some time after - landing in Holland he and his family were in the greatest - distress, as through his hasty resignation he had forfeited the - pension which would have been due to him in another year or two. - He obtained some grudging help from his wife’s relations, who - offered to provide for her entirely if she would leave him, and - were righteously indignant at her refusal. With the appearance of - “Max Havelaar” his success as a literary man was assured, and from - thenceforth he was able to live by his pen, though continually - harassed by debts (he was careless, generous, and extravagant, and - had a constitutional incapacity for accounts), controversies, and - quarrels, well or ill founded, with friends or foes. After the - death of his first wife, he was married a second time—to Mej. - Schepeles—and made his home in the Rhineland, first at - Niederingelheim, and then at Wiesbaden. He died at Mainz, in - February 1887. Perhaps his best work is to be found in the _Ideen_ - (filling in the collected edition of his works some seven - volumes). They are a kind of continuous rambling _causerie_, - contributed to a Dutch daily, the _Dageraad_, and ranging over - every possible topic, full of aphorism, paradox, epigram, and with - an occasional story woven in here and there. The most important of - these is the delightful fictitious biography of Wouter Pieterse, - which, though certainly not an autobiography, incorporates many of - the experiences of his childhood and youth. It was never finished, - and proceeds in a most capricious manner, being frequently - interrupted by digressions for dozens of pages together, and then - suddenly taken up again. Some extracts are given from this and - other parts of the _Ideen_. Most of his other works, except the - dramas “The Bride in Heaven” and “The School for Princes,” are of - a more or less occasional and fugitive character. But Multatuli’s - position is not to be measured by the mere number and extent of - his works. He is a distinct force in modern Holland, and a name to - conjure with to the younger generation of Dutch readers. - - EEDEN, F. VAN, is the editor of the _Nieuwe Gids_, and author of - novels, sketches, critical articles, &c., besides the poem - “Ellen,” and some plays, including the comedy from which our - quotation is taken, and a farce, “The Student at Home.” - - FOORE, ANNIE, is the pseudonym of Mevrouw W. J. F. Ijzerman, whose - maiden name was Francisca J. J. A. Junius, daughter of a learned - theologian, the minister of Tiel. She was born at the latter place - in 1847, and married an engineer, at Padang, Sumatra, in 1873. Her - principal works are the novels, “The Colonial and his Superior” - (1877), “A Family Secret,” “Florence’s Dream,” and several volumes - of short stories. The specimens in the present volume are taken - from “Family Life in the East Indies.” She has great power of - observation, a fine sense of humour, and an easy flowing style of - narrative, though sometimes her stories are defective in - construction. Her pictures of colonial life are admirable. For the - translation of the story “Unbidden Guests,” I am indebted to Miss - Margaret Farquharson, of Selkirk. - - HUYGENS, CONSTANTIJN, born 1596, at the Hague. His godfathers were the - Admiral Justinus von Nassau and the City of Breda; he was named - after the “constancy” shown by the latter to the House of Orange. - He enjoyed a singularly complete and brilliant education, studied - law at Leyden, and became, in 1625, private secretary to Prince - Frederick Henry. He was on friendly terms with Hooft, Cats, and - the beautiful and talented daughters of Roemer Visscher,—Anna and - Tesselschade. Like Cats, he had visited England (in 1618), where - he made the acquaintance of John Donne, whose poems he afterwards - translated, and whose influence is visible in his writings. He was - knighted by James I. in 1622. He married in 1627, and the loss of - his wife, ten years later, was the great affliction of his life. - He had four sons, the second being the celebrated mathematician, - Christian Huygens, and one daughter. He continued his political - activity till 1672, when, being to a certain extent superseded on - account of his advanced age, he devoted himself to literature and - (like most Dutch gentlemen) to gardening at his villa of Hofwijk, - near the Hague; he died there in 1687. His works are of various - kinds,—didactic and descriptive poems (“Batava Tempe”), satires - (“The Costly Request”), epigrams (we give a few translations), the - frightfully coarse farce of “Trijntje Cornelis” (taste of the - times again!), &c. His best poem is “Oogentrost” (Eye Comfort), - dedicated, in 1647, to a friend, Lucretia van Trello, who feared - she was going blind. He also wrote a Latin autobiography, under - the title “De Vita Propria Sermones.” He published his collected - poems under the title “Corn Flowers.” Personally he seems to have - been in every way worthy of respect, and is described as “one of - the most lovable men that ever lived.” - - KELLER, GERARD, born at Gouda, February 13, 1829. He was for some time - stenographer to the Dutch parliament, and afterwards editor of the - _Arnheimsche Courant_. He is a clever journalist, and voluminous - writer of fiction, in which latter department he would appear to - have been influenced by Dickens. His earliest novel, “The Tutor’s - Family,” appeared in 1857; “Overkompleet,” the sketch from which - our extract is taken, appeared in a volume with other short - stories in 1871, but has been reprinted in a complete edition of - his “Novellen,” of which three volumes have already seen the - light. Among his other novels we may mention “The Mortgage on - Wasenstein” (1866), “The History of a Halfpenny, and other - Stories” (1872), “Off the Rails” (1872), &c. He is also the author - of several volumes of travel-sketches, among which we may mention - four illustrated quarto volumes, “Amerika in Beeld en Schrift,” - and a lively description of a tour in Scotland (“Een Uitstapje - naar de Schotsche Hooglanden”), which has appeared quite recently. - Keller acted as a newspaper correspondent in France during the - Franco-German War, and his experiences there resulted in two - books, “Paris Besieged” and “Paris Murdered.” Besides all this he - has written several comedies, and numerous contributions to - periodical literature, and is now, we believe, the editor of the - monthly magazine, _Vreemd en Eigen_, having previously edited, at - different times, _Kunst Kroniek_ and the _Geldersche Almanach_. - His style has a lightness of touch, perhaps due to French - influence, and conspicuously wanting in all but some of the most - recent Dutch authors, with the exception of Multatuli. - - LAMBERTS-HURRELBRINCK, L. H. J., is a young writer, living at Leyden, - who has published more than one collection of short stories, - mostly dealing with the province of Limburg and its people. His - first volume, “Limburgsche Novellen,” was reviewed, with perhaps - undue severity, in _De Gids_ for July 1890—a judgment which, it is - said, was not altogether uninfluenced by party spirit. A later - volume is “Van Limburg’s Bodem.” The sketch in the text appeared - in _Elsevier’s Maandschrift_ for September 1892, and is to a - certain extent founded on fact. - - LENNEP, JACOB VAN, one of the best known of modern Dutch writers. - Belonging to a literary family, he was born at Amsterdam in 1802, - studied at Leyden, and took a law degree in 1824, and settled as a - lawyer at Amsterdam. In 1854–56 he was a member of the Second - Chamber of the States-General. He died at Oosterbeek (Gelderland) - on August 25, 1868. His literary industry was so prodigious that - we cannot attempt to give a list of his works, which were chiefly - poems, novels (published in a collected edition of 19 vols.), - plays, and historical studies. Perhaps his best novel is “Klaasje - Zevenster,” from which the bit of description we have quoted is - taken. We give his comedy, “The Village on the Frontier,” entire. - - SEIPGENS, EMILE ANTON HUBERT, born at Roermond (Limburg), August 16, - 1837. He was at first in the brewing business, but is now a - teacher of German language and literature in the “Rijks Hoogere - Burgerschool” of his native town. He has written several plays, - some of them in the Roermond dialect, and two or three volumes of - short stories, most of them strongly “Limburgsch” in local colour. - The extract here given is taken from the volume entitled “In en om - het klein Stadje” (Amsterdam, 1887). Another collection is - entitled “Langs Maas en Geul.” He is an occasional contributor to - the monthly magazine _De Gids_, and also to Elsevier’s - “Illustrated.” - ------ - -Footnote 1: - - The oldest “Chambers of Rhetoric” (or _Collèges de Rhétorique_—the - name probably originated in the French influence introduced by the - House of Burgundy) date back to about 1400, or some years previous. - The oldest would seem to be the “Alpha and Omega,” at Ypres, and the - Antwerp “Violieren” (wall-flowers). The most famous, perhaps, is the - Amsterdam association, “De Eglantier,” better known perhaps under the - name of its motto, “In Liefde Bloeiende” (Blooming in Love). They held - poetical competitions, placed upon the stage (usually with great - magnificence) plays written and acted by their members, and arranged - the most splendid pageants and processions on the occasion of any - festival or public rejoicing. They also celebrated festivals of their - own, the most important of which were known by the name of - _Landjuweelen_. In 1496 a great Landjuweel was held at Antwerp by - twenty-eight societies, at which the Eglantier gained the first prize. - But the most famous of all was the Landjuweel of 1561, also held at - Antwerp, beginning on the 3rd August, when the chambers of Brabant and - Flanders vied with one another in magnificence. The Brussels society, - “The Book,” was represented by 340 members, all on horseback in - crimson mantles. This festival was revived on the occasion of the - jubilee of the Belgian Academy of Antiquities, August 1892. - -Footnote 2: - - The plot of the “Bride in Heaven” is briefly this:—Many years before - the opening of the play, Major Huser had killed Baron Van Bergen in a - duel. There was no personal enmity between the men,—indeed they were - intimate friends; it was only public opinion and a barbarous etiquette - that forced on this ending to a trifling dispute. Huser was - broken-hearted at the way it ended: he accepted the charge of Van - Bergen’s only son as a sacred trust; and when he died, shortly - afterwards, made his own son, Gustaaf, promise to be a friend to young - Van Bergen at any sacrifice. Van Bergen turned out wild and - dissipated, and Gustaaf redeemed his promise by taking on himself a - forgery committed by his friend when in desperate straits for lack of - money at the university. No one knew the truth of this affair but - himself, Van Bergen, and the latter’s worthless valet, Frans. The - proofs of the whole were contained in certain letters in Van Bergen’s - possession. Huser disappears from society, and is supposed to have - fled the country. As a matter of fact, he is getting his living as a - music-master, under the name of Holm, and as such he is introduced to - us in the play. His principal pupil is Caroline, daughter of a high - government official named Van Wachler,—a shrewd, honourable, and - upright man, of simple tastes, meeting with little sympathy from his - fashionable and affected wife, with her would-be French manners, and - the aristocratic connections she will not allow him to forget. Mevrouw - Van Wachler is young Van Bergen’s aunt, and exceedingly anxious to - marry her daughter to the scapegrace, who, for his part, is not - unwilling to accept such a way of escape from his embarrassments. Her - husband is less dazzled by the match, and declares his intention of - letting his daughter choose for herself. He questions her, and finds - that her affections are set on Holm. Holm, who has meanwhile awakened - to the fact that he is in love with Caroline, has made up his mind - that he must leave without a sign; but Van Wachler’s genial kindness - wins his secret from him, and, finding that the statesman respects him - for himself, and is willing to take his position and his past for - granted, and that all he has to do is, to consent to the engagement, - he can only shut his eyes for the moment, and accept the offered - happiness. In the second act, which, with a few unimportant - abridgments, is given entire in the text, General Van Weller, brother - to Mevrouw Van Wachler, and the elder Huser’s old friend and comrade, - returns from the Indies, determined to clear up the mystery of Gustaaf - Huser’s disappearance, and is unwittingly helped on to the right track - by Frans. In the third act, Holm and Van Bergen meet—the best side of - the latter comes uppermost, and he has a passing mood of repentance - and reconciliation. But Frans’ influence is too strong; he is - persuaded to take a base advantage of his rival, and tells the Van - Wachler family, in Holm’s presence, that the latter is not only - passing under a false name, but is an outlaw and a convicted felon. - Holm (who had previously made up his mind, for the sake of their old - friendship and his promise to his father, to renounce Caroline, in the - hope that her love—could he succeed in winning it—might save Van - Bergen) is stunned and driven to despair by this treacherous attack, - goes home to his lodgings, and is about to commit suicide, when he is - interrupted by a visit from a man whose children he saved from a fire - a year ago, and who has now brought them to see him. This man (Wolf) - discovers his purpose, and does not leave till he has persuaded him to - forego it. Scarcely has he gone, when Caroline comes in. She tells - Holm that she has come to bid him farewell, but that nothing that has - happened can make any possible difference to their love. If she may - not belong to him on earth, she will be his bride in the other life, - and wait for him there. So they part. - - Van Wachler is full of indignation at the way in which he considers - himself to have been deceived by Holm, but Van Weller arrives in time - to explain everything,—tells the whole story, sends for Holm, or - Huser, and sees his old friend’s son triumphantly righted, while Van - Bergen retires in disgrace. (See _A Rascally Valet_, p. 65.) - -Footnote 3: - - Strictly speaking, “Dominie,” in Holland, is a title reserved for - ministers, the old-fashioned designation of the schoolmaster being - simply “Meester.” But as the former title has, with us, become - inseparably attached to the latter profession, it has been thought - best to use it as the translation of “Meester.” - -Footnote 4: - - Equivalent to the French _garde-champêtre_ and the German - _Feldschütz_,—an official who is something between a gamekeeper and a - policeman. His duty is to patrol the fields and orchards with a gun, - and see that nothing is stolen. - -Footnote 5: - - Readers of Motley will not need to be reminded that this was the name - of William the Silent’s murderer. - -Footnote 6: - - “Wethouders:” corresponding to the “selectmen” of a New England - village. - -Footnote 7: - - _Doe wel en zie niet om_ (Do well, and don’t look behind you), was the - motto of the Knights of the Union. King Louis of Holland (Napoleon - I.’s brother) was but an indifferent Dutch scholar, and the tradition - goes, that, having to preside at a chapter of the above Order, he was - provided with a French phonetic version of their motto, as follows: - _Doux lainsi nid d’homme_. With the aid of this guide to pronunciation - he is said to have acquitted himself all right; but on another - occasion he came to grief by describing himself as the “friend and - rabbit” (Konijn, _quasi koning_, king) of his audience. - -Footnote 8: - - The Dr Watts of Holland. - -Footnote 9: - - A society at Amsterdam, which, besides fulfilling the usual functions - of a club, holds picture exhibitions and gives concerts, and founded - the zoological gardens in that city (hence often referred to as - “Artis,” _tout court_), to which its members have free right of entry. - Membership in “Artis,” as implied in the text, is a trustworthy - guarantee of respectability. - -Footnote 10: - - The hierarchy of Dutch etiquette is as follows, beginning from - above:—_Mevrouw_, _Juffrouw_, _Vrouw_. - -Footnote 11: - - _I.e._, confirmation. - -Footnote 12: - - Erroneously so. For, even though this is _not_ humour, it is quite - true that jokes of this sort are given out as such; and Master - Pennewip’s question can only have referred to this. The wig’s doubts - are therefore unfounded, and I would recommend to it the attentive - perusal of Professor Oosterzee’s treatise, “De Sceptici mo caute - Vitando.” - -Footnote 13: - - Two outlying districts of Amsterdam. - -Footnote 14: - - “_L’eau de reine_,” _i.e._, “eau de la reine de Hongrie,” known in - England as “Hungary water,” a fashionable perfume and restorative when - eau de Cologne as yet was not. Dutch ladies used to take it to church - with them instead of smelling-salts. Juffrouw Pieterse’s version of - the word is pronounced as spelt, the _y_ being long like that in the - English word _my_. - -Footnote 15: - - Intended for “marchand de parapluies.” The words in the above form - were the refrain of a favourite Amsterdam street song some seventy - years since. - -Footnote 16: - - The official known in a Dutch church as _Kerkmeester_ combines in - himself functions analogous to those of the English clerk and - churchwarden, or the Scottish beadle and precentor. - -Footnote 17: - - The Nes is a low part of Amsterdam, full of taverns and music-halls of - the worst description. - -Footnote 18: - - 20 stivers = 1 florin = 1s. 8d. - -Footnote 19: - - 5 stivers. - -Footnote 20: - - Two Leyden theological professors in the early part of this century. - -Footnote 21: - - The “Authorised Version” of Holland, published by order of the States - General, and in consequence of a resolution of the Synod of Dort, in - 1610. It was completed in 1634. - -Footnote 22: - - “Rederijkers” (_i.e._, “rhetorikers”) Kamer is the name given to the - literary societies which still flourish at the Dutch universities. The - name has come down from the fifteenth century, and the most famous - societies were those of “In Liefde Bloeiende” and “De Eglantier,” - further reference to which will be found in the Introduction. - -Footnote 23: - - There are two provinces of Limburg; one of them being part of Belgium, - the other of the Netherlands. In the latter (which is the one meant - here) the people are Romanists and call themselves Flemings, not - Hollanders. - -Footnote 24: - - Fourth part of a _stuiver_. - -Footnote 25: - - This story appears to have several morals, the reader being left free - to choose the one most in accordance with his own views. The author - himself is strictly impartial. Perhaps the most obvious is, that it is - not good to match your wits against those of the Roman Catholic - clergy, unless you have capital to back your opposition, and not - always even then. M. Seipgens does not obtrude his own views, and we - are not quite sure whether the conclusion is meant to be serious and - edifying, or whether there is an underlying _pointe d’ironie_. The - story gives a lively picture of life and manners in the Limburg - district, that picturesque and little known region which, though part - of Holland, is in some respects so un-Dutch. The language spoken there - is less like Dutch proper than some broad and harsh dialect of German, - such as they speak about Cologne. After some hesitation between the - two, we have given this sketch of Seipgens’ in preference to “Kobus - Mulders’ Vote,”—which also turns on politics and clerical influence, - and is, in some respects, more characteristic; but the crisis—when - Mulders and his family are cut off by the flood—comes too near tragedy - for such a book as this. - -Footnote 26: - - The scene of this play is laid on what is now the frontier between - Holland and Belgium,—the time is 1830,—when the southern provinces of - the Kingdom of Holland revolted. The Liberal (French) party allied - itself with the Clerical Ultramontanes against the Government, and the - news of the Paris Revolution precipitated the outbreak of a riot at - Brussels (August 25), which soon spread over the country. - -Footnote 27: - - This is an allusion to one Kissels, who had been getting his living by - exhibiting a whale’s skeleton at Amsterdam, and joined the Belgian - side on the outbreak of the war. - -Footnote 28: - - A Flemish expletive. - -Footnote 29: - - “Up with Orange!” the Dutch national war-cry. - -Footnote 30: - - _I.e._, is born to be hanged. The site of the gallows is the - _Rabenstein_ in old German ballads. - -Footnote 31: - - “Grease” here has the sense of what is figuratively called “palm-oil.” - -Footnote 32: - - An illustration of comfortable, “Philistine” selfishness. The pumping - is supposed to be going on either on board a leaking vessel, or at a - break in the dykes. - -Footnote 33: - - _I.e._, cotton and pepper. - -Footnote 34: - - This is puzzling at first sight, but apparently is a comparison - between the three nations in point of foresight and prudence,—the - knife standing for anything needed in case of emergencies. The - Hollander is always prepared, the Frenchman never, the Scot makes - assurance doubly sure. - -Footnote 35: - - Another uncomplimentary proverb has it that the Portuguese apprentice - wants to cut out clothes before he knows how to sew. - -Footnote 36: - - Lit. “Madam my consort.” - -Footnote 37: - - This marriage would be legal in Holland. - -Footnote 38: - - Two-wheeled trap or dogcart (a Malay word). - -Footnote 39: - - Chinese trader. - -Footnote 40: - - _Kabaja_ is a long loose jacket, and _sarong_ the Malay petticoat, - forming the usual morning dress of Dutch ladies in the Indies. - -Footnote 41: - - _Njo_ is the Malay title given to the eldest boy in a family (like - _baba_ in Hindustani); for a girl it is _Nonnie_. - -Footnote 42: - - “No.” - -Footnote 43: - - _Sambal_ answers to the curry of British India, and is as various in - its composition. - -Footnote 44: - - Broth. - -Footnote 45: - - The Javanese equivalent to “ayah.” - -Footnote 46: - - _See_ Introduction. - -Footnote 47: - - She was Everdine Huberte, Baroness Wynbergen, a portionless orphan of - good family, whose property, seized by rapacious relatives, afterwards - cost him a series of lawsuits. Having picked up a lady’s handkerchief - at a ball, he chose to interpret the initials worked on it as “Eigen - Heard Wel Waard” (“A hearth of one’s own is worth much”) and at once - declared his intention of finding and marrying the owner. She is the - _Tine_ of “Max Havelaar.” - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - -[Illustration] - - - - - LIBRARY OF HUMOUR - - - _Cloth Elegant, Large Crown 8vo, Price 3/6 per vol._ - - _VOLUMES ALREADY ISSUED._ - - - THE HUMOUR OF FRANCE. Translated, with an Introduction and Notes, by - Elizabeth Lee. With numerous Illustrations by Paul Frénzeny. - -“From Villon to Paul Verlaine, from dateless _fabliaux_ to -newspapers fresh from the kiosk, we have a tremendous range of -selections.”—_Birmingham Daily Gazette._ - -“French wit is excellently represented. We have here examples of Villon, -Rabelais, and Molière, but we have specimens also of La Rochefoucauld, -Regnard, Voltaire, Beaumarchais, Chamfort, Dumas, Gautier, Labiche, De -Banville, Pailleron, and many others.... The book sparkles from -beginning to end.”—_Globe_ (London). - - - THE HUMOUR OF GERMANY. Translated, with an Introduction and Notes, by - Hans Müller-Casenov. With numerous Illustrations by C. E. Brock. - -An excellently representative volume.—_Daily Telegraph_ (London). - -“Whether it is Saxon kinship or the fine qualities of the collection, we -have found this volume the most entertaining of the three. Its riotous -absurdities well overbalance its examples of the oppressively heavy.... -The national impulse to make fun of the war correspondent has a capital -example in the skit from Julius Stettenheim.”—_New York Independent._ - - - THE HUMOUR OF ITALY. Translated, with an Introduction and Notes, by A. - Werner. With 50 Illustrations and a Frontispiece by Arturo Faldi. - -“Will reveal to English readers a whole new world of -literature.”—_Athenæum._ (London). - -“Apart from selections of writers of classical reputation, the book -contains some delightful modern short stories and sketches. We may -particularly mention those by Verga, Capuana, De Amicis.... Excellent -also are one or two of the jokes and ‘bulls’ which figure under the -heading of newspaper humour.”—_Literary World_ (London). - - - THE HUMOUR OF AMERICA. Selected, with a copious Biographical Index of - American Humorists, by James Barr. - -“There is not a dull page in the volume; it fairly sparkles and ripples -with good things.”—_Manchester Examiner._ - - - THE HUMOUR OF HOLLAND. Translated, with an Introduction and Notes, by - A. Werner. With numerous Illustrations by Dudley Hardy. - - - _VOLUMES IN PREPARATION._ - - - THE HUMOUR OF IRELAND. Selected by D. J. O’Donoghue. With numerous - Illustrations by Oliver Paque. - - - THE HUMOUR OF RUSSIA. Translated, with Notes, by E. L. Boole, and an - Introduction by Stepniak. With 50 Illustrations by Paul Frénzeny. - - - THE HUMOUR OF SPAIN. Translated, with an Introduction and Notes, by S. - Taylor. With numerous Illustrations. - - -To be followed by volumes representative of ENGLAND, SCOTLAND, JAPAN, -etc. The Series will be complete in about twelve volumes. - - - - - BOOKS OF FAIRY TALES. - - _Crown 8vo, Cloth Elegant, Price 3/6 per Vol._ - - - ENGLISH FAIRY AND OTHER FOLK TALES. - - Selected and Edited, with an Introduction, - - BY EDWIN SIDNEY HARTLAND. - - _With Twelve Pull-Page Illustrations by_ CHARLES E. BROCK. - - - SCOTTISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES. - - Selected and Edited, with an Introduction, - - BY SIR GEORGE DOUGLAS, BART. - - _With Twelve Full-Page Illustrations by_ JAMES TORRANCE. - - - IRISH FAIRY AND FOLK TALES. - - Selected and Edited, with an Introduction, - - BY W. B. YEATS. - - _With Twelve Full-Page Illustrations by_ JAMES TORRANCE. - - - - - IBSEN’S PROSE DRAMAS. - - - EDITED BY WILLIAM ARCHER. - - Complete in Five Vols. Crown 8vo, Cloth, Price 3/6 each. Set of Five - Vols., in Case, 17/6; in Half Morocco, in Case, 32/6. - - “_We seem at last to be shown men and women as they are; and at first - it is more than we can endure.... All Ibsen’s characters speak and act - as if they were hypnotized, and under their creator’s imperious demand - to reveal themselves. There never was such a mirror held up to nature - before: it is too terrible.... Yet we must return to Ibsen, with his - remorseless surgery, his remorseless electric-light, until we, too, - have grown strong and learned to face the naked—if necessary, the - flayed and bleeding—reality._”—SPEAKER (London). - - Vol. I. “A DOLL’S HOUSE,” “THE LEAGUE OF YOUTH,” and “THE PILLARS OF - SOCIETY.” With Portrait of the Author, and Biographical - Introduction by WILLIAM ARCHER. - - Vol. II. “GHOSTS,” “AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE,” and “THE WILD DUCK.” With - an Introductory Note. - - Vol. III. “LADY INGER OF ÖSTRÅT,” “THE VIKINGS AT HELGELAND,” “THE - PRETENDERS.” With an Introductory Note and Portrait of Ibsen. - - Vol. IV. “EMPEROR AND GALILEAN.” With an Introductory Note by WILLIAM - ARCHER. - - Vol. V. “ROSMERSHOLM,” “THE LADY FROM THE SEA,” “HEDDA GABLER.” - Translated by WILLIAM ARCHER. With an Introductory Note. - - The sequence of the plays _in each volume_ is chronological; the - complete set of volumes comprising the dramas thus presents them in - chronological order. - - “The art of prose translation does not perhaps enjoy a very high - literary status in England, but we have no hesitation in numbering the - present version of Ibsen, so far as it has gone (Vols. I. and II.), - among the very best achievements, in that kind, of our - generation.”—_Academy._ - - “We have seldom, if ever, met with a translation so absolutely - idiomatic.”—_Glasgow Herald._ - - - - - Crown 8vo, about 350 pp. each, Cloth Cover, 2s. 6d. per vol. - - Half-polished Morocco, gilt top, 5s. - - COUNT TOLSTOÏ’S WORKS. - - - The following Volumes are already issued— - - A RUSSIAN PROPRIETOR. - - THE COSSACKS. - - IVAN ILYITCH, AND OTHER STORIES. - - MY RELIGION. - - LIFE. - - MY CONFESSION. - - CHILDHOOD, BOYHOOD, YOUTH. - - THE PHYSIOLOGY OF WAR. - - ANNA KARÉNINA 3s. 6d. - - WHAT TO DO? - - WAR AND PEACE. (4 VOLS.) - - THE LONG EXILE, AND OTHER STORIES FOR CHILDREN. - - SEVASTOPOL. - - THE KREUTZER SONATA, AND FAMILY HAPPINESS. - - Uniform with the above. - - IMPRESSIONS OF RUSSIA - - BY DR. GEORG BRANDES. - - - - - BOOKS AT 6/–. - - - VAIN FORTUNE. By GEORGE MOORE. With Eleven Illustrations by MAURICE - GREIFFENHAGEN. - - - MODERN PAINTING. A Volume of Essays. By GEORGE MOORE. - - - PEER GYNT: A DRAMATIC POEM. By HENRIK IBSEN. Translated by WILLIAM and - CHARLES ARCHER. - - - AMONG THE CAMPS; OR, YOUNG PEOPLE’S STORIES OF THE WAR. By THOMAS - NELSON PAGE. (Illustrated.) - - - THE MUSIC OF THE POETS: A MUSICIANS’ BIRTHDAY BOOK. Edited by ELEONORE - D’ESTERRE KEELING. - - - THE GERM-PLASM: A THEORY OF HEREDITY. By AUGUST WEISMANN, Professor in - the University of Freiburg-in-Breisgau. - - - - - DRAMATIC ESSAYS. - - - EDITED BY - - WILLIAM ARCHER AND ROBERT W. LOWE. - - _Three Volumes, Crown 8vo, Cloth, Price 3/6 each._ - -Dramatic Criticism, as we now understand it—the systematic appraisement -from day to day and week to week of contemporary plays and acting—began -in England about the beginning of the present century. Until very near -the end of the eighteenth century, “the critics” gave direct utterance -to their judgments in the theatre itself, or in the coffeehouses, only -occasionally straying into print in letters to the news-sheets, or in -lampoons or panegyrics in prose or verse, published in pamphlet form. -Modern criticism began with modern journalism; but some of its earliest -utterances were of far more than ephemeral value. During the earlier -half of the present century several of the leading essayists of the -day—men of the first literary eminence—concerned themselves largely with -the theatre. Under the title of - - “DRAMATIC ESSAYS” - -will be issued, in three volumes, such of their theatrical criticisms as -seem to be of abiding interest. - - -_THE FIRST SERIES_ will contain selections from the criticisms of LEIGH -HUNT, both those published in 1807 (long out of print), and the -admirable articles contributed more than twenty years later to _The -Tatler_, and never republished. - - -_THE SECOND SERIES_ will contain selections from the criticisms of -WILLIAM HAZLITT. Hazlitt’s Essays on Kean and his contemporaries have -long been inaccessible, save to collectors. - - -_THE THIRD SERIES_ will contain hitherto uncollected criticisms by JOHN -FORSTER, GEORGE HENRY LEWES, and others, with selections from the -writings of WILLIAM ROBSON (The Old Playgoer). - -The Essays will be concisely but adequately annotated, and each volume -will contain an Introduction by WILLIAM ARCHER, and an Engraved Portrait -Frontispiece. - - _Crown 8vo, Cloth, Price 6s._ - - - - - MODERN PAINTING. - - - By GEORGE MOORE. - - - _SOME PRESS NOTICES._ - -“Of the very few books on art that painters and critics should on no -account leave unread this is surely one.”—_The Studio._ - -“His book is one of the best books about pictures that have come into -our hands for some years.”—_St. James’s Gazette._ - -“If there is an art critic who knows exactly what he means and says it -with exemplary lucidity, it is ‘G. M.’”—_The Sketch._ - -“A more original, a better informed, a more suggestive, and let us add, -a more amusing work on the art of to-day, we have never read than this -volume.”—_Glasgow Herald._ - -“Impressionism, to use that word, in the absence of any fitter one,—the -impressionism which makes his own writing on art in this volume so -effective, is, in short, the secret both of his likes and dislikes, his -hatred of what he thinks conventional and mechanic, together with his -very alert and careful evaluation of what comes home to him as -straightforward, whether in Reynolds, or Rubens, or Ruysdael, in Japan, -in Paris, or in modern England.”—Mr. Pater in _The Chronicle_. - -“As an art critic Mr. George Moore certainly has some signal advantages. -He is never dull, he is frankly personal, he is untroubled by -tradition.”—_Westminster Gazette._ - -“Mr. Moore, in spite of the impediments that he puts in the way of his -own effectiveness, is one of the most competent writers on painting that -we have.”—_Manchester Guardian._ - -“His [Mr. Moore’s] book is one that cannot fail to be much talked about; -and everyone who is interested in modern painting will do well to make -acquaintance with its views.”—_Scottish Leader._ - -“As everybody knows by this time, Mr. Moore is a person of strong -opinions and strong dislikes, and has the gift of expressing both in -pungent language.”—_The Times._ - -“Of his [Mr. Moore’s] sincerity, of his courage, and of his candour -there can be no doubt.... One of the most interesting writers on art -that we have.”—_Pall Mall Gazette._ - - - - - WORKS BY GEORGE MOORE. - - - _Crown 8vo, Cloth, Price 3s. 6d. each._ - - TWENTIETH EDITION. - - - A MUMMER’S WIFE. - -“‘A Mummer’s Wife’ is a striking book—clever, unpleasant, realistic.... -No one who wishes to examine the subject of realism in fiction, with -regard to English novels, can afford to neglect ‘A Mummer’s -Wife.’”—_Athenæum._ - -“‘A Mummer’s Wife,’ in virtue of its vividness of presentation and real -literary skill, may be regarded as in some degree a representative -example of the work of a literary school that has of late years -attracted to itself a great deal of notoriety.”—_Spectator._ - - - EIGHTH EDITION. - - - A MODERN LOVER. - -“It would be difficult to praise too highly the strength, truth, -delicacy, and pathos of the incident of Gwynnie Lloyd, and the admirable -treatment of the great sacrifice she makes.”—_Spectator._ - - - SEVENTH EDITION. - - - A DRAMA IN MUSLIN. - -“Mr. George Moore’s work stands on a very much higher plane than the -facile fiction of the circulating libraries.... The characters are drawn -with patient care, and with a power of individualisation which marks the -born novelist. It is a serious, powerful, and in many respects edifying -book.”—_Pall Mall Gazette._ - - - _Crown 8vo, Cloth, Price 6s._ - - - VAIN FORTUNE. - - With Eleven Illustrations by MAURICE GREIFFENHAGEN. - - _A few Large-Paper Copies on Hand-made Paper, Price One Guinea net._ - - - A VOLUME of ESSAYS by GEORGE MOORE. - - _Crown 8vo, Cloth, Price 6s._ - - MODERN PAINTING. - - - _Crown 8vo, Cloth, Price 5s._ - - - THE STRIKE AT ARLINGFORD. - - PLAY IN THREE ACTS. - - - _COMPACT AND PRACTICAL._ - - _In Limp Cloth; for the Pocket. 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