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Transcriber’s Note:
This version of the text cannot represent certain typographical effects.
Italics are delimited with the ‘_’ character as _italic_.
Minor errors, attributable to the printer, have been corrected. Please
see the transcriber’s note at the end of this text for details regarding
the handling of any textual issues encountered during its preparation.
ILLUSTRATIONS
OF
POLITICAL ECONOMY.
BY
HARRIET MARTINEAU.
--------------
MESSRS. VANDERPUT AND SNOEK.
THE LOOM AND THE LUGGER.--PART I.
THE LOOM AND THE LUGGER.--PART II.
--------------
_IN NINE VOLUMES._
VOL. VI.
LONDON:
CHARLES FOX, PATERNOSTER-ROW.
MDCCCXXXIV.
LONDON:
Printed by WILLIAM CLOWES,
Duke-street, Lambeth.
CONTENTS.
---
MESSRS. VANDERPUT AND SNOEK
CHAP. PAGE│CHAP. PAGE
1. Morning 1│ 6. News from Home 90
2. An Excursion 21│ 7. A Night's Probation 108
3. Family Arrangements 42│ 8. News at Home 124
4. Wise Men at Supper 56│ 9. Close of a brief Story 132
5. Going Northwards 81│
│
THE LOOM AND THE LUGGER.--PART I.
│
CHAP. PAGE│CHAP. PAGE
1. Taking an Order 1│ 5. Morning Walks 63
2. Giving an Order 16│ 6. A Night Watch 92
3. Dumb Duty 26│ 7. Hear the News! 113
4. An Afternoon Trip 45│
│
THE LOOM AND THE LUGGER.--PART II.
│
CHAP. PAGE│CHAP. PAGE
1. The Coopers at Home 1│ 5. Hate and Hand-bills 78
2. Matters of Taste 19│ 6. Investigations 109
3. Chance Customers 43│ 7. Prospective Brotherhood 132
4. Grief and Dancing 63│
------------------------------------------------------------------------
MESSRS.
VANDERPUT AND SNOEK.
=A Tale.=
BY
HARRIET MARTINEAU.
------------------
LONDON:
CHARLES FOX, 67, PATERNOSTER-ROW.
---
833.
PREFACE.
--------------
In planning the present story, I was strongly tempted to use the ancient
method of exemplification, and to present my readers with the Adventures
of a Bill of Exchange, so difficult is it to exhibit by example the
process of exchange in any other form than the history of the
instrument. If, however, the transactions of Messrs. Vanderput and Snoek
should be found to furnish my readers with a pretty clear notion of the
nature and operation of the peculiar kind of currency of which this
Number treats, I shall readily submit to the decision that the present
volume has little merit as a specimen of exemplification. Though the
working of principles might be shown in this case, as in any other, it
could not, I think, be done naturally in a very small space. If I had
had liberty to fill three octavo volumes with the present subject, an
interesting tale might have been made up of the effects on private
fortunes of the variations in the course of the Exchange, and of the
liabilities which attend the use of a partial and peculiar
representative of value. As it is, I have judged it best to occupy a
large portion of my confined space in exhibiting a state of society to
which such a species of currency is remarkably appropriate, in order
that light might be thrown on the nature and operation of bills of
exchange by showing what was being done, and what was wanted by those
who most extensively adopted this instrument into their transactions.
In case of any reader questioning whether Dutchmen in the seventeenth
century could advocate free trade, I mention that the principle has
never been more distinctly recognized than at a remoter date than I have
fixed, by countries which, like Holland, had little to export, and
depended for their prosperity on freedom of importation. Every
restriction imposed by the jealousy of those from whom they derived
their imports was an unanswerable argument to them in favour of perfect
liberty of exchange. As their herrings and butter were universally
acknowledged to be the best herrings and butter in existence, and yet
were not enough for the perfect comfort of the Dutch, the Dutch could
not resist the conclusion, that the less difficulty there was in
furnishing their neighbours with their incomparable herrings and butter,
in return for what those neighbours had to offer, the better for both
parties. The Dutch of the seventeenth century were therefore naturally
enlightened advocates of the free trade.--Whether their light has from
that time spread among their neighbours equally and perpetually, my next
Number will show.
CONTENTS.
Chap. Page
1. Mourning 1
2. An Excursion 21
3. Family Arrangements 42
4. Wise Men at Supper 56
5. Going Northwards 81
6. News from Home 90
7. A Night's Probation 108
8. News at Home 124
9. Close of a brief Story 132
------------------------------------------------------------------------
MESSRS. VANDERPUT & SNOEK.
-----------------------
CHAPTER I.
MOURNING.
During the days when the prosperity of the United Provinces was at its
height,--that is, during the latter half of the 17th century,--it could
hardly be perceived that any one district of Amsterdam was busier than
another, at any one hour of the day. There was traffic in the markets,
traffic on the quays, the pursuit of traffic in the streets, and
preparation for traffic in the houses. Even at night, when the casks
which had been piled before the doors were all rolled under shelter, and
dogs were left to watch the bales of merchandize which could not be
stowed away before dark, there was, to the eye of a stranger, little of
what he had been accustomed to consider as repose. Lights glanced on the
tossing surface of the Amstel, as homeward-bound vessels made for the
harbour, or departing ships took advantage of the tide to get under
weigh. The hail of the pilots or the quay-keepers, or of a careful
watchman here and there, or the growl and bark of a suspicious dog, came
over the water or through the lime avenues with no unpleasing effect
upon the wakeful ear, which had been so stunned by the tumult of
noon-day as scarcely to distinguish one sound from another amidst the
confusion.
One fine noon, however, in the summer of 1696, a certain portion of the
busiest district of Amsterdam did appear more thronged than the rest.
There was a crowd around the door of a handsome house in the Keiser's
Graft, or Emperor's-street. The thickly planted limes were so far in
leaf as to afford shade from the hot sun, reflected in gleams from the
water in the centre upon the glaring white fronts of the houses; and
this shade might tempt some to stop in their course, and lounge: but
there were many who were no loungers flocking to the spot, and making
their way into the house, or stationing themselves on the painted bench
outside till they should receive a summons from within.
The presence of one person, who stood motionless before the entrance,
sufficiently explained the occasion of this meeting. The black gown of
this officer, and his low cocked hat, with its long tail of black crape,
pointed him out as the Aanspreeker who, having the day before made the
circuit of the city to announce a death to all who knew the deceased,
was now ready to attend the burial. He stood prepared to answer all
questions relative to the illness and departure of the deceased, and the
state of health and spirits of the family, and to receive messages for
them, to be delivered when they might be supposed better able to bear
them than in the early hours of their grief. Seldom were more inquiries
addressed to the Aanspreeker than in the present instance, for the
deceased, Onno Snoek, had been one of the chief merchants of Amsterdam,
and his widow was held in high esteem. The officer had no sooner ended
his tale than he had to begin it again;--how the patient's ague had
appeared to be nearly overcome; how he had suffered a violent relapse;
how the three most skilful French apothecaries had been called in, in
addition to the native family physician; how, under their direction, his
son Heins had opened the choicest keg of French brandy, the most
precious packages of Batavian spices in his warehouse, for the sake of
the sick man; how, notwithstanding these prime medicaments, the fever
had advanced so rapidly as to prevent the patient from being moved even
to the window, to see a long expected ship of his firm come to anchor
before his own door; how he seemed to have pleasure in catching a
glimpse of her sails through the trees as he lay in bed; but how all his
endeavours to live till morning that he might hear tidings of the cargo,
had failed, and rather hastened his end, insomuch that he breathed his
last before dawn.
Among the many interrogators appeared a young man who was evidently in
haste to enter the house, but wished first to satisfy himself by one or
two questions. He wore the dress of a presbyterian clergyman, and spoke
in a strong French accent.
"I am in haste," he said, "to console my friends, from whom I have been
detained too long. I was at Saardam yesterday, and did not hear of the
event till this morning. I am in haste to join my friends; but I must
first know in what frame the husband,--the father,--died. Can you tell
me what were the last moments which I ought to have attended?"
The officer declared that they were most edifying. The patient's mind
was quite collected.
"Thank God!" exclaimed M. Aymond, the divine.
"Quite collected," continued the officer, "and full of thought for those
he left behind, as he showed by the very last thing he said. He had most
carefully arranged his affairs, and given all his directions in many
forms; but he remembered, just in time, that he had omitted one thing.
He called Mr. Heins to his bed-side, and said, 'my son, there is one
debtor of ours from whom you will scarce recover payment, as I never
could. Meyerlaut has for many months evaded paying me for the last ebony
we sold to him. Let him therefore make my coffin.--Stay!--I have not
done yet.--You will, in course of nature, outlive your mother. Let her
have a handsome coffin from the same man; and if it should please Heaven
to take more of you, as our beloved Willebrod was taken, you will bear
the same thing in mind, Heins, I doubt not; for you have always been a
dutiful son.'"
"This is the way Heins told you the fact?" asked Aymond. "Well, but were
these the last,--the very last words of the dying man?"
Heins had mentioned nothing that was said afterwards; so the divine
pursued his way into the house with a sad countenance. Instead of
joining the guests in the outer apartment, he used the privilege of his
office, and of his intimacy with the family, and passed through to the
part of the house where he knew he should find the widow and her young
people. Heins met him at the door, saying,
"I knew you would come. I have been persuading my mother to wait,
assuring her that you would come. How we have wished for you! How
we----"
Aymond, having grasped the hand of Heins, passed him to return the
widow's greeting. She first stood to receive the blessing he bestowed in
virtue of his office, and then, looking him calmly in the face, asked
him if he had heard how God had been pleased to make her house a house
of mourning.
"I find dust and ashes where I looked for the face of a friend," replied
the divine. "Can you submit to Heaven's will?"
"We have had grace to do so thus far," replied the widow. "But whether
it will be continued to us when----"
Her eyes filled, and she turned away, as if to complete her preparations
for going forth.
"Strength has thus far been given according to thy day," said Aymond. "I
trust that it will be thus bestowed for ever." And he gave his next
attention to one whom he was never known to neglect; one who loved him
as perhaps nobody else loved him,--Heins's young brother, Christian.
Christian had suffered more in the twelve years of his little life than
it is to be hoped many endure in the course of an ordinary existence. A
complication of diseases had left him in a state of weakness from which
there was little or no hope that he would ever recover, and subject to
occasional attacks of painful illness which must in time wear him out.
He had not grown, nor set a foot to the ground, since he was five years
old: he was harassed by a perpetual cough, and in constant dread of the
return of a capricious and fearful pain which seldom left him unvisited
for three days together, and sometimes lasted for hours. When in
expectation of this pain, the poor boy could think of little else, and
found it very difficult to care for any body; but when suffering from
nothing worse than his usual helplessness, his great delight was to
expect M. Aymond, and to get him seated beside his couch. Aymond thought
that he heard few voices more cheerful than that of his little friend,
Christian, when it greeted him from the open window, or made itself
heard into the passage,--'Will you come in here, M. Aymond? I am in the
wainscoat parlour to-day, M. Aymond.'
Christian had no words at command this day, He stretched out his arms in
silence, and sighed convulsively when released from the embrace of his
friend.
"Did I hurt you? Have you any of your pain to-day?"
"No; not yet. I think it is coming; but never mind that now. Kaatje will
stay with me till you come back. You will come back, M. Aymond."
When the pastor consented, and the widow approached to bid farewell to
her child for an hour, Christian threw his arms once more round Aymond's
neck. His brother Luc, a rough strong boy of ten, pulled them down, and
rebuked him for being so free with the pastor; and little Roselyn, the
spoiled child of the family, was ready with her lecture too, and told
how she had been instructed to cross her hands and wait till M. Aymond
spoke to her, instead of jumping upon him as she did upon her brother
Heins. Christian made no other reply to these rebukes than looking with
a smile in the face of the pastor, with whom he had established too good
an understanding to suppose that he could offend him by the warmth of an
embrace.
"I am sorry you cannot go with us, my poor little Christian," said
Heins, who had a curious method of making his condolences irksome and
painful to the object of them. "I am sorry you cannot pay this last duty
to our honoured parent. You will not have our satisfaction in looking
back upon the discharge of it."
"Christian is singled out by God for a different duty," observed the
pastor. "He must show cheerful submission to his heavenly parent while
you do honour to the remains of an earthly one."
Christian tried to keep this thought before him while he saw them
leaving the room, and heard the coffin carried out, and the long train
of mourners, consisting of all the acquaintance of the deceased, filing
away from the door.--When the last step had passed the threshold, and it
appeared from the unusual quiet that the crowd had followed the
mourners, Christian turned from the light, and buried his face in one of
the pillows of his couch, so that Katrina, the young woman who, among
other offices, attended upon him and his little sister, entered
unperceived by him. She attracted his attention by the question which he
heard oftener than any other,--'the pain?'
"No," answered the boy, languidly turning his head; "I was only thinking
of the last time----" Either this recollection, or the sight of
Katrina's change of dress overcame him, and stopped what he was going to
say. The short black petticoat, measuring ten yards in width, exhibited
its newness by its bulk, its plaits not having subsided into the
moderation of a worn garment. The blue stockings, the neat yellow
slippers had disappeared, and the gold fillagree clasps in the front of
the close cap were laid aside till the days of mourning should be ended.
While Christian observed all this, contemplating her from head to foot,
Katrina took up the discourse where he had let it fall.
"You were thinking of the last time my master had you laid on the bed
beside him. It will always be a comfort to you, Christian, that he told
you where he was departing."
"He did not tell me that," said the boy; "and that is just what I was
wondering about. He said he was going, and I should like to know if he
could have told where."
"To be sure he could. He was one of the chosen, and we know where they
go. So much as you talk with the pastor, you must know that."
"I know that it is to heaven that they go, but I want to know where
heaven is. Some of them say it is paradise; and some, the New Jerusalem;
and some, that it is up in the sky among the angels. But do all the
chosen know where they are going?"
Certainly, Katrina believed. The dying believer was blessed in his hope.
Christian was not yet satisfied.
"I think I shall know when I am dying," said he. "At least, I often
think I am dying when my pain comes in the night; but I do not know more
about where I am going then than at other times."
Katrina hoped his mind was not tossed and troubled on this account.
"O, no; not at all. If God is good to me, and takes care of me here, he
will keep me safe any where else, and perhaps let me go about where I
like. And O, Kaatje, there will be no more crying, nor pain! I wish I
may see the angels as soon as I die. Perhaps father is with the angels
now. I saw the angels once, more than once, I think; but once, I am
sure."
In a dream, Katrina supposed.
"No, in the broad day, when I was wide awake. You know I used to go to
the chapel before my cough was so bad; as long ago as I can remember,
nearly. There are curious windows in that chapel, quite high in the
roof; and I often thought the day of judgment was come; and there was a
light through those windows shining down into the pulpit; and there the
angels looked in. I thought they were come for me, unless it was for the
holy pastor."
"But would you have liked to go?"
"Yes: and when the prayer came after the sermon, instead of listening to
the pastor, I used to pray that God would send the angels to take me
away."
Katrina thought that if Christian had lived in another country, he would
have made a fine martyr.
"I don't know," said the boy, doubtfully. "I have thought a great deal
about that, and I am not so sure as I used to be. If they only cut off
my head, I think I could bear that. But as for the burning,--I wonder,
Kaatje, whether burning is at all like my pain. I am sure it cannot be
much worse."
Katrina could not tell, of course; but she wished he would not talk
about burning, or about his pain; for it made him perspire, and brought
on his cough so as to exhaust him to a very pernicious degree. He must
not talk any more now, but let her talk to him. He had not asked yet
what company had come to the funeral.
Christian supposed that there was every body whom his father had known
in Amsterdam.
Yes, every body: and as there were so many to drink spirits at the
morning burial, her mistress chose to invite very few to the afternoon
feast. Indeed her mistress seemed disposed to have her own way
altogether about the funeral. Every body knew that Mr. Heins would have
liked to have it later in the day, and would not have minded the greater
expense for the sake of the greater honour.
"I heard them talk about that," said Christian. "My mother told Heins
that it was a bad way for a merchant to begin with being proud, and
giving his father a grand funeral; and that the best honour was in the
number of mourners who would be sure to follow an honest man, whether
his grave was filled at noon or at sunset. My mother is afraid of Heins
making a show of his money, and learning to fancy himself richer than he
is."
Katrina observed that all people had their own notions of what it was to
be rich. To a poor servant-maid who had not more than 1000 guilders out
at interest----
"But your beautiful gold chain, Kaatje! Your silver buckles! I am sure
you must have ten pair, at the least."
"Well, but, all this is less than many a maid has that has been at
service a shorter time than I have. To a poor maid-servant, I say, it
seems like being rich to have I don't know how many loaded ships between
China and the Texel."
"They belong as much to Mr. Vanderput as to us, you know. Is Mr.
Vanderput here to-day?"
"To be sure. He is to be at the burial-feast; and Miss Gertrude----."
"Gertrude! Is Gertrude here?" cried Christian, sitting up with a jerk
which alarmed his attendant for the consequences. "O, if she will stay
the whole day, it will be as good as the pastor having come back."
"She crossed from Saardam on purpose. She will tell you about the
angels, if any body can; for she lives in heaven as much as the pastor
himself, they say."
"She is an angel herself," quietly observed Gertrude's little adorer.
Katrina went on with her list.
"Then there is Fransje Slyk and her father. He looks as if he knew what
a funeral should be, and as grave as if he had been own brother to the
departed. I cannot say as much for Fransje."
"I had rather have Fransje's behaviour than her father's, though I do
not much like her," said Christian. "Mr. Slyk always glances round to
see how other people are looking, before he settles his face
completely."
"Well; you will see how he looks to-day. These are all who will stay
till evening, I believe, except Mr. Visscher."
"Mr. Visscher! What is he to stay for? I suppose Heins wants to talk to
him about this new cargo that came too late. O, Kaatje, I never can bear
to look through the trees at that ship again. I saw the white sails in
the moonlight all that night when I lay watching what was going on, and
heard Heins's step in and out, and my mother's voice when she thought
nobody heard her; and I could not catch a breath of my father's voice,
though I listened till the rustle of my head on the pillow startled me.
And then my mother came in, looking so that I thought my father was
better; but she came to tell me that I should never hear his voice any
more. But O, if she knew how often I have heard it since! how glad I
should be to leave off hearing it when I am alone----."
Poor Christian wept so as not to be comforted till his beloved friend
Gertrude came to hear what he had to say about those whom he believed to
be her kindred angels.
Heins was missed from the company soon after the less familiar guests
had departed, and left the intimate friends of the family to complete
the offices of condolence. Heins was as soon weary of constraint as most
people, which made it the more surprising that he imposed on himself so
much more of it than was necessary. All knew pretty well what Heins was,
though he was perpetually striving to seem something else; and his
painful efforts were just so much labour in vain. Every body knew this
morning, through all the attempts to feel grief by which he tried to
cheat himself and others, that his father's death was quite as much a
relief as a sorrow to him; and that, while he wore a face of
abstraction, he was longing for some opportunity of getting out upon the
quay to learn tidings of the ships and cargoes of which he was now in
fact master. The fact was that Heins was as much bent on being rich as
his father had been, but he wanted to make greater haste to be so, and
to enjoy free scope for a trial of his more liberal commercial notions.
For this free scope, he must yet wait; for his partner, Mr. Vanderput,
was as steady a man of business, though a less prejudiced one, than the
senior Snoek had been; and then there was Mrs. Snoek. She was not
permitted, by the customs of the country, to meddle in affairs relating
to commerce; but she knew her maternal duty too well not to keep an eye
on the disposal of the capital which included the fortunes of her
younger children. It was to be apprehended that she would be ready with
objections whenever a particularly grand enterprize should demand the
union of all the resources of the firm. Some liberty had, however, been
gained through the obstinacy of the fever which would not yield to
French brandy and Oriental spices; and there were many eyes upon Heins
already, to watch how he would set out on his commercial career.
Some of these eyes followed him from his mother's door to the quay, and
back again, when he had concluded his inquiries among the captains. It
was remarked that there was, during the latter transit, a gloom in his
countenance which was no mockery.
On his re-appearance in his mother's parlour, the cause was soon told,
first to his partner, next to his mother, and then (as there were none
but intimate friends) to all present. The result of the communication
was an outcry against the English, as very troublesome neighbours, while
the widow's first thought was of thankfulness that her husband had died
without hearing news which would have caused him great trouble of mind.
Heins appealed to all who understood the state of Dutch commerce,
whether Great Britain had not done mischief enough long ago, by
prohibiting the importation of bulky goods by any ships but those which
belonged to the exporting or importing country.
"That prohibition was evidently aimed at us Dutch," observed Vanderput.
"We were carriers to half the world, till Great Britain chose that we
should no longer carry for her. She might punish herself in that manner,
and welcome, if she could do so without punishing us; but it is a
serious grievance,--difficult as it now is to find an investment for our
capital,--to be obliged to lay by any of our shipping as useless."
"We did all we could," said Heins piteously. "Since we could not carry
the produce of the East and West into the ports of Great Britain for
sale, we brought it here, that the British captains might not have far
to go for it. But it seems that Great Britain is jealous of this; for
there is a new prohibition (if the report be true) against importing any
bulky produce purchased anywhere but in the country where it is
produced."
"I hope this is too bad to be true," observed Visscher.
"Nothing is too bad to be attempted by a jealous country against one
which has been particularly successful in commerce," observed Snoek.
"The tonnage of this country is more than half that of all Europe; and
Great Britain thinks it time to lower our superiority. Whether she will
gain by doing so, time will show."
"I think Great Britain is very illnatured and very mean," observed
Christian, who had generally something to say on every subject that was
discussed in his presence. "I think I shall call her Little Britain,
from this time. But, Heins, what will you do with all the things you
have bought, as you told me, in Asia and America, and in France and
Italy? You must send back your cinnamon to Ceylon, and----O, but I
forgot that other people may buy them, though the English will not. But
I hope you have not bought too much for the present number of your
customers. There is another large ship coming from one of the American
islands, I heard----."
He was checked by the remembrance of who it was that told him this.
Heins related, with a deep sigh, which might be given to the memory of
either the ship or its owner, that the vessel had been wrecked, and was
now at the bottom of the sea. This was the other piece of bad news he
had to tell. At least two-thirds of his hearers asked after the crew,
while the rest inquired for the cargo. The cargo was lost, except a
small portion, which had been preserved with difficulty. The crew had
been picked up, only one sailor-boy being missing. It was from two of
them who had found their way home that Heins had received the tidings of
his misfortune.
"One sailor-boy!" repeated Christian. "Do you know how he was lost? Was
he blown from the yards, do you think? Or was he washed overboard? or
did he go down with the ship?"
Heins did not know any particulars of the sailor-boy. But where? But
how? But when did this happen?
It happened where many shipwrecks had happened before, and many would
again, and in the same manner. The vessel had struck on the Eddystone
rock on a stormy night. This was another nuisance for which the Dutch
were indebted to the English. This fatal rock----.
"Did the English make the Eddystone rock?" little Roselyn inquired, in a
low voice, of the pastor. "I thought it was God that broke up the
fountains of the deeps, and fixed the everlasting hills." Her wiser
brother Christian enlightened her.
"God made this rock; but perhaps he made it so that it might be of use
to us, instead of doing us harm, if the English would make the best use
of it. Is not that what Heins means, M. Aymond?"
M. Aymond believed that what Mr. Vanderput had just said was true; that
the English were about to build a light-house on this dangerous rock,
which might thus be made to guide ships into a British harbour, instead
of causing them to perish. He trusted that it would appear that Heins
was mistaken in saying that many more ships would be lost on that rock;
and he hoped that men would learn in time to make all God's works
instruments of blessing to their race. Christian carried on the
speculation.
"And then, perhaps, man's works may not perish by accident before they
are worn out, as this ship did. But yet this was what happened with one
of God's works too,--that sailor-boy. He perished before he was worn
out. But why do people ever wear out, M. Aymond? Whether a person is
drowned at fifteen or dies worn out at eighty, does not much signify, if
God could make them live a thousand years. Only think of a person living
a thousand years, M. Aymond! He would see cities grow as we see
ant-hills rise, while the sea roared against the dykes as it did at the
beginning. He would see the stars move so often that he would know them
all in their places. He would know almost everything. O! why do not men
live a thousand years? and why does God let a young sailor-boy be lost?"
Gertrude whispered, "All the days of Methuselah were nine hundred, sixty
and nine years; and he died."
"Yes," added the pastor, gravely meeting the kindling eyes of Christian;
"death comes sooner or later; and whether it came soon or late would be
all in all if we were to live no more. But as man's life is never to
end----"
"Ah! I see. If his life is never to end, it does not signify so much
when he passes out of one kind of life into another. I was going to ask
why there should be any death at all. If I made a world, I would----"
Christian had talked too eagerly, and now was prevented by his cough
from speaking any more at present. When he recovered his voice, the
pastor turned his attention from the lost sailor-boy to the lost ship,
asking whether it had not answered its purpose in making several
voyages; whether the skill and toil of the artificers had not been
repaid. Christian thought not; and he went on to exhibit as much as he
could of the worked up knowledge and labour which had in this instance
been engulphed by the waves. He seemed so much irritated, however, by
his imperfection in the knowledge of ship-building, that Gertrude
proposed that he should pay her a visit at Saardam, where he might look
down from a window upon the dock-yard, and witness nearly the whole
process without being moved from his couch. She almost repented the
proposal when she saw the poor boy's rapture; but, happily, no one
perceived any objection to the plan. The little voyage of seven miles
could be made perfectly easy to invalids; and it was quite certain that
Christian would be happy with Gertrude, if anywhere. Heins and the
pastor contended for the charge of Christian, and old Mr. Slyk, the most
punctilious of mourners, allowed that such an indulgence
might,--especially with a view to increased knowledge,--be extended to a
sufferer like Christian, within the days of strict mourning, provided
the mother and the younger children staid at home. Luc clenched his fist
on hearing this, and Roselyn pouted; but their jealousy of their brother
soon vanished when his dreaded pain came on, and they were put out of
the room by their mother, as usual, that they might not become hardened
to the expressions of agony which they could not relieve.
They were heartily glad when the day was nearly over;--when there was an
end of going from the melancholy burial feast in one room, into the
apartment where Gertrude was describing to the now passive Christian
spectacles which they were not to see, and pleasures which were held to
be incompatible with the mourning of which they already required to be
reminded. They were not, however, allowed to retire in this state of
forgetfulness of the occasion. The pastor's closing prayer, the solemn
looks of the servants, and their mother's silent tears when she laid her
hand upon their heads, left them no disposition for complaint as they
stole away to their beds.