As his party skimmed lightly along he told Van Mounen of a burial riot which in 1696 had occurred in that very city, where the women and children turned out, as well as the men, and formed mock funeral processions through the town, to show the burgomasters that certain new regulations, with regard to burying the dead would not be acceded to--how at last they grew so unmanageable and threatened so much damage to the city that the burgomasters were glad to recall the offensive law.
"There's the corner," said Jacob, pointing to some large buildings, where, about fifteen years ago, the great corn houses sank down in the mud. They were strong affairs and set up on good piles, but they had over seven million pounds of corn in them, and that was too much."It was a long story for Jacob to tell, and he stopped to rest.
"How do you know there were seven million pounds in them?" asked Carl sharply. "You were in your swaddling clothes then.""My father knows all about it" was Jacob's suggestive reply.
Rousing himself with an effort, he continued, "Ben likes pictures. Show him some.""All right," said the captain.
"If we had time, Benjamin," said Lambert van Mounen in English, "I should like to take you to the City Hall, or Stadhuis. There are building piles for you! It is built on nearly fourteen thousand of them, driven seventy feet into the ground. But what I wish you to see there is the big picture of Van Speyk blowing up his ship--great picture.""Van WHO?" asked Ben.
"Van Speyk. Don't you remember? He was in the height of an engagement with the Belgians, and when he found that they had the better of him and would capture his ship, he blew it up, and himself, too, rather than yield to the enemy.""Wasn't that Van Tromp?""Oh, no. Van Tromp was another brave fellow. They've a monument to him down at Delftshaven--the place where the Pilgrims took ship for America.""Well, what about Van Tromp? He was a great Dutch admiral, wasn't he?""Yes, he was in more than thirty sea fights. He beat the Spanish fleet and an English one, and then fastened a broom to his masthead to show that he had swept the English from the sea.
Takes the Dutch to beat, my boy!"
"Hold up!" cried Ben. "Broom or no broom, the English conquered him at last. I remember all about it now. He was killed somewhere on the Dutch coast in an engagement in which the English fleet was victorious. Too bad," he added maliciously, "wasn't it?""Ahem! Where are we?" exclaimed Lambert, changing the subject.
"Halloo! The others are way ahead of us--all but Jacob. Whew!
How fat he is! He'll break down before we're halfway."Ben, of course, enjoyed skating beside Lambert, who, though a staunch Hollander, had been educated near London and could speak English as fluently as Dutch, but he was not sorry when Captain van Holp called out, "Skates off! There's the museum!"It was open, and there was no charge on that day for admission.
In they went, shuffling, as boys will when they have a chance, just to hear the sound of their shoes on the polished floor.
This museum is in fact a picture gallery where some of the finest works of the Dutch masters are to be seen, besides nearly two hundred portfolios of rare engravings.
Ben noticed, at once, that some of the pictures were hung on panels fastened to the wall with hinges. These could be swung forward like a window shutter, thus enabling the subject to be seen in the best light. The plan served them well in viewing a small group by Gerard Douw, called the "Evening School," enabling them to observe its exquisite finish and the wonderful way in which the picture seemed to be lit through its own windows.
Peter pointed out the beauties of another picture by Douw, called "The Hermit," and he also told them some interesting anecdotes of the artist, who was born at Leyden in 1613.
"Three days painting a broom handle!" echoed Carl in astonishment, while the captain was giving some instances of Douw's extreme slowness of execution.
