Picturesque Holland: A Journey in the Provinces of Friesland, Groningen, Drenthe, Overyssel, Guelders and Limbourg

Front matter

OF THE ROYAL ASIATIC SOCIETY. : Town Hatt, Bomsiv.

Digitized with financial assistance from the Government of Maharashtra on 05 October, 2018

Norember 1876.

Conclusion

PAGE

ILLUSTRATIONS.

DEVENTER . ‘ :

THE WATER-GALE OF SNEDK

Tar Town Hawt or Borswarp LERUWARDEN (THE CHANCELLERIE) Tue COLLECTHUIS AT GRONINGEN

Tur HUNNEBEDDEN OF TISNAARLOO .

Tne Cucren or KorvoRDEN : ZutrHEN (BANKS OF THE BERKEL) Nymecen (tHE GREAT MARKET-PLACE)

Maésrricut (AnciENT Ramparts) -

Mar oF tHe NETHERLANDS

Frontispiece to face page to face page

EXPLANATION ee

+ mt a

PICTURESQUE HOLLAND.

Chapter I

A WORD OF EXPLANATION—A GEOGRAPHICAL ANNEXATION— ETHNOLOGICAL DISCUSSION—PREPARATIONS,

HE time is not far removed, when to cross the frontiers of France was sufficient in the eyes of the public of that country, to constitute a hardy explorer. Thirty years ago the excursions of Théophile Gautier in Spain, of Paul de Musset in Italy, and of Victor Hugo on the banks of the Rhine, attained the proportions of voyages of discovery. Sterne’s ‘Sentimental Journey’ was exhumed, and ‘Topffer’s ‘ Zigzags’ again found admiring readers.

Since that time a revolutionary change has taken place. Steam, in traversing the ocean and covering continents with’ a network of iron roads, has diminished and nearly dissolved distances ; and, the telegraph, in revealing each evening the course of the events of the day in the four corners of the world, has

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2 MODERN TRAVEL.

brought the ends of the earth together. So true is this, that nothing short of a voyage round the world, or the discovery of some new kingdom, excites public interest and arrests public attention.

There is no exaggeration in this. Travels, which of old would have been accounted fantastic, seem now-a-days to be natural and commonplace.

Yesterday Australia, Java, Jeddo, and San Francisco were unveiled by the Count de Beauvoir.

It was Indo-China that we ran through with the lamented Francis Garnier, China that we visited with Messieurs Cernuschi and Duret, or the two continents that we traversed in the genial society of Count Gabriac.

To-day the Marquis of Compitgne takes us for a walk across the deserts of Equatorial Africa. To-morrow Stanley, or our valiant countrymen De Brazza and Marche, will relate their daring explorations of an unknown continent, if they chance to return to tell what they saw in such dreary, deadly solitudes.

In these circumstances it needs great audacity or very special reasons to venture again to talk of a quiet, commonplace, loyal, and hospitable country distant twelve hours from Paris, where cruel carnivora and highway robbers are conspicuous by their absence.

Although it is easy to defend the proposition that the nearest countries are neither the best known nor the easiest to make acquaintance with, I must

GERMAN GEOGRAPHY. 3 conscientiously avow that my audacity would have fuiled me if I had not strong reasons first to undertake and then to relate the travels which I now publish. I feel bound to account to my readers for the motives which are at once, the expiinguon and apology of my book.

When I prepared the second edition of my journeyings to the Dead Cities of the Zuyder Zee, I had the curiosity to hunt up all that had been published in Germany regarding the countries of which I had revived the history.

Among these books was one entitled ‘ Leitfaden fiir den Unterricht in der Geographie. I glanced over it at first with little interest, but my indifference was short-lived.

On two occasions this little book made mention of the kingdom of the Low Countries, and each time the Netherlands were swallowed up in Germany.

The first mention was when speaking of the States of Central Europe (p. 90). The Netherlands were classed under the head of ‘Germany’ (‘ Deutschland’), in a numerous and comely company, however—to wit, Denmark, Belgium, Luxemburg, Switzerland, and the Grand Duchy of Lichtenstein. The second occasion (p. 173) placed it again in the same cateyory, but under a more specific designation— ‘Deutsche Aussenliinder’ (Trans-Germania, or Outlying Germany), and this time the author gives his reasons for it.

‘The six states above mentioned are regarded

B2

4 ECCENTRIC ANNEXATION.

as an appendage of Germany, (a) firstly, because they are in a great measure situated within the natural limits of Germany; and (0) secondly, because, with trifling exceptions, they belonged to the ancient German Empire; and in part because, until 1866, they were included in the Germanic Confederation.’ Thus it will be seen, that this is a particularly cool geographical and historical annexation of six foreign countries.

I had scarcely recovered from the profound astonishment caused by this strange discovery, when the course of my studies brought me into contact with a learned German, who had come into the country to pursue certain investigations.

I thought myself the more entitled to call his attention to these scholastic eccentricities, because the book in question was not one of those commonplace publications, of which the exact meaning of the words used is of no importance. Written by Dr. Daniel, a learned professor of Halle, it has been revised and edited by Dr. Kirchhoff, professor ot geography in the same university, and it has now run to a seventh edition, which is exhausted annually.

‘Such errors,’ I observed to my interlocutor, ‘are a real danger. When thirty millions of square heads have admitted such things as truths from their cradles, it is difficult to convince them afterwards that they have been mistaken. You ought to hold it a point of honour to correct such dangerous and absurd errors.’

LOOSE LOGIC. 5

‘I see nothing absurd or erroneous in it,’ said my savant. ‘ Denmark, Switzerland, the Low Countries, and the other States which you have mentioned, are the natural completion of the Empire of Germany. Their manners, their language, their history, and their traditions all bind them to ancient Germany.’

‘Tt is no business of mine,’ said IJ, ‘to answer for the other States. I know nothing of the Grand Duchy of Lichtenstein, and I have hut a tourist’s acquaintance with Switzerland, Luxemburg, and Denmark. I have only dwelt casually in Belgium; but the Netherlands are quite another matter. I have spent five years on this hospitable soil, and I can certify, for J am thoroughly aware—’

‘Well, you know them ill. You have only seen the centre of the country, the sole part which has an autochthonous character. If you had traversed and studied the eastern provinces with the care you have bestowed upon those of the west, if you had dwelt, even for a few days, in the part bordering on Hanover and Westphalia, you would have seen the disappearance of differences, and the blending of the shades of diversity.’

‘You will never persuade me,’ I replied, ‘ that these provinces have an overweening affection for you. Your own writers, too, frankly avow the contrary. Heinrich von Treitschke complains somewhat bitterly of the Lowland antipathy, and your novelist Gutzkow loudly cries “ Treason.”

6 THE INFALLIBLE CHANCELLOR.

‘T agree to that. But we have other proofs of the community of origin. You know our patriotic song or saying, “ Where is the country of Germany? As far as the German tongue is heard.”’’

‘It would be a strange misapprehension to confound the language of Vondel, and Hooft, and Bilderdyk, and Da Costa with that of Goethe and Schiller. But even admitting your theory you would have to eliminate from your States North Slesvig, where nothing but Danish is spoken; Lorraine, which has never spoken German; and Alsace, where it was little known. Still further you would have to exclude, on the authority even of your infallible Chancellor,’ all countries annexed for more than a century. You see that your song is discordant. What more have you?’

‘Religion. . . . The two countries are Protestant.’

‘Yes; but you are Lutherans, and the Dutch are Calvinists—a wide difference, unless you reckon the third of the nation which has remained Catholic; but this, I think, would be a false calculation.’

‘In short, we have community of origin, similarity of race, the same blood, the same ethnical characteristics.’

1 Tt is above all necessary that the study of the German language should be made on a wider and surer baxis, not only in the province of Posen, but even in Upper Silesia and in Western Prussia’ (Speech of Prince Bismarck in the Chamber of Peers, March 6, 1872). That was a sufficient recognition of the fact that German was scarcely used in the different provinces. On February 13 of the same year the same Minister said, in the Chamber of Deputies, ‘The evangelical Pole, who will perhaps acknowledge a German as a minister of his faith, will never forget his nationality so far as to favour, from confessional zeal, the study of the German language.’ It is difficult to be more explicit,

MY COMRADE. Te

‘ This,’ I rejoined, ‘would have to be proved, but you surely must know that M. Quatrefages declares ‘all political arrangements founded on ethnology to be absurd,” and that Prof. Virchow axssents to this view. Moreover, it seems to me to be difficult enough to make a Dutchman avow himself to be a mof.*

‘All I can tell you,’ replied my impatient interlocutor, ‘is that our learned men do not write carelessly, and that men like Daniel and Kirchhoff are never mistaken.’

There our confab ended ; but, from that moment I made up my mind to traverse those frontier provinces, to explore them thoroughly, to ransack their traditions, and to learn their history at the fountainhead.

However easy this journey to the threatened frontiers appeared, it was in reality hedged round with all sorts of difficulties, and I needed above all a devoted companion, willing to dawdle with me in the tangled web of old parchments and the dusty monuments, which, among archwologists bring people who have passed away, to lifeagain. Friendship furnished the companion. Baron de Constant-Itebecque offered to share my studies and my peregrinations. He was just the comrade I desired. A gentleman grafted on an artist, a cultivated, energetic, robust

1 May not this be the origin of our English muff? Itisa term without definite meaning, but is an expression of contempt, hy which, in certain pirts of Holland, the German people are designated.— Zranslator’s Note.

8 BON VOYAGE.

individual, whose never-failing good humour charmed away all fatigue.

Our next need was to secure a sympathetic reception. It was absolutely necessary to visit libraries, ransack old archives, and find our way into fortresses. To accomplish this I applied to the highest authority in the country. M. Heemskerk, Minister of the Interior and President of the Council, received me with a refined courtesy, which demands my warmest acknowledgments. By his kind intervention, [ obtained from his colleagues in the War Office and Department of Justice, all the introductions necessary.

‘You are undertaking an unusual journey,’ said the Minister when I took leave of him, ‘in the course of which you will meet with difficulties ; but I will take care to smooth your way for you as much as possible, in recommending you warmly to the governors of the provinces you are about to visit.’

And relying with good reason upon this kindly promise, we sct out on June the 22nd, 1875.

CIIAPTER II.

THE DEPARTURE—‘ AURORA’—LOVE OF THE OLD-FASHIONED—SNEEK GOES FORTH TO THE WARS—GREAT MEN AND LITTLE WOMEN.

E left Amsterdam on a Monday, and em-. barked in the ‘Harbinger’ steamboat, which was to carry us to our destination the same evening. It was one of those lovely June mornings with a marvellously cloudless sky. A fresh breeze blew over the whole expanse, and a pearl-grey mist hugying the horizon, gave promise of a hot day. It was not without a certain emotion that we saw our boat shake herself, pass the river Y, and clear the sluices of Schellingwonde. We found ourselves once more in the midst of the Zuyder Zee, which we had so thoroughly explored two years before. This immense gulf grected us, as a friend whom we met again. We passed the same banks and picturesque islands, traversing in a day as much as had taken a month to run through, leading us almost to fear that we should not again experience the pleasurable feelings which had left so charming a memory behind. Marken, with its grassy slopes and wooden houses, Enkhuizen and its hump, Windelopen and Stavoren,

10 HARLINGEN.

were they still in the land of the living? Tow surprising it would have been to have seen those dying cities regain a touch of youth—a little animation and fresh charms! And at the same time what fears of not seeing them all! Alas! if our apprehensions were groundless, so were our hopes. In the distance we saw those royal cities file past one by one, asleep on the shore of the grand gulf. As we saw them two years since so were they now—silent, impassive, awaiting in funereal solemnity, for old Time to complete his customary work.

That evening, at the appointed hour, we reached Harlingen. The little Friesland city had not changed its aspect. The harbour alone differed, the great basin at which they were working during our former visit, having been completed. A crowd assembled to witness the arrival of the steamboat. They greeted us cheerily, the porters took possession of our luggage, and we directed our steps to the hotel, the ‘ Heerenlogeient.’

At daybreak the next morning we set out again. We traversed the still sleeping town to embark on board the Sneek boat, and here was the real commencement of our journey. We were, in the first instance, about to traverse Fricsland, to travel southward to visit Sneek and Bolsward, and then turning our steps to the north-west, to touch at Leeuwarden in the north-east, then reach Dockum, cross the sea, and thus land at Schiermonnikoog,

The little screw-steamer in which we had taken

PARADISE OF COWS. ik our passage was appropriately named the ‘ Aurora.’ At six in the morning we set out, and after skirting the ramparts of the city, we boldly entered the Leeuwardervaart.

This is a long and tedious canal, bordered by those never-ending meadows which constitute the wealth of Friesland. Everywhere around us, to the boundary of our horizon, it was impossible to detect an undulation in the land. Grassy plains stretching their blue outlines on the grey morning sky, dark steeples, a few red roofs, an occasional hamlet, a large village, a small town with its gables and chimneys, formed the sky-line of the landscape. Nearer at hand those immense plains were dotted with cattle, with here and there a cottage, or one of those rich, substantial farm-houses, where everything indicated order and plenty.

This country is called the ‘ Paradise of Cows,’ and never was name better bestowed. White and black, resplendent with health, buried up to their middle in this clean and rich herbage, the female inhabitants of those vast pasturages appeared to be surrounded by perfect happiness. Froin morn to eve, and from eve to morn, they enjoyed their quiet occupation. With sleepy eyes silently grazing, they selected their tufts, and gathered full-tongued their delicious repasts. Their dreams could not realise greater fortune, for they slept and ruminated.

Then there were brick-kilns, with their immense black roofs and strange balconies, and lime furnaces,

2 PASSING PANORAMA.

with rounded, white, dome-shaped cupolas resembling mosques.

On the right were seen the spires of Hitsum, on the left those of Franeker, with its shady ramparts, and the country was enlivened by the belfries of Tjum, Winsum, and Spannum. The villages followed with their tidy houses and their yellow and blue blinds, where their thrifty housewives, in golden casques, thronged the thresholds, and exhibited their bright, great, copper jugs glistening in the sun.

Along the whole route we passed boats, and were saluted by the buatmen. They all wore red shirts, short blue and white breeches gripped at the knee, with thick, brown, woollen stockings. Their ruddy countenances, hair of infantine fairness, earrings, and bright, joyous smiles complete the picture. Behind them, peeping out of the open hatchways, were usually visible four or five curious heads struggling to see the steamboat pass, with staring eyes and mouths agape. Even to return their greeting caused joyful peals of laughter, which reverberated within the sides of the boats.

Above our heads flew the storks, traversing the canal with great beating of wings; also the wu/pen, and flights of lapwings. Right and left the seagulls were our faithful companions, uttering plaintive cries, skimming the undulations caused by the boat, and constantly diving beneath the foam, to bring up little fishes in their long, slender beaks.

But Sneck appears in the distance, protected by

SNEEK. 1?

a rampart of verdure. Another turn ahead, the boat stops, and there we are.

Nothing is more charming than the approaches of these little Friesland towns. Old fortifications have made way for shady walks. Behind is left the green country, redolent of the sweet smell of new-mown hay. In front stretch lines of houses, shining and pretty, with white wood-work and spotless windows. The good folks flock to the doors to see us pass, the gossips whisper, and the playing children raise their heads—all uniting in a greeting compounded of friendliness and curiosity.

Sneek, more than any other place, presents this aspect of hospitality and kindness. The principal streets are reached by a line of inns, and are themselves winding, not too broad, and exquisitely clean. They are bordered by low houses, which would seem to be in a Dutch town, were it not for the names ending in @ over most of the doors. These first streets lead by a turning into the Grand Place, which is an elongated parallelogram of no great extent, and which can never be particularly lively, since two great girls were lying down lazily removing the grass between the stones with the points of their knives. Here, nevertheless, are the chief public buildings—the public ‘ Poids’ or weigh-house, a large, ugly, commonplace shed; and the High Court, a very simple building of fair proportions, surmounted by an appropriate device.

The Town Hall, near at hand, is more than a

‘14 ITS TOWN HALL.

century older, and was finished in 1736. Its style is not particularly chaste, but the facade is curious, eccentric, and almost extravagant. In it the contortions of the rococo of the eighteenth century, are mixed up with the fluted wood carvings of Louis AIY. It is a two-storied building, with a raised courtyard, reached by a flight of steps. The roof is surmounted by an open belfry, and has corbels supported by the strangest brackets imaginahle—children turned topsyturvy, and grotesquely contortioned—while the flight of steps, surcharged with wood carvings, distinctive decorations, and vases, carries proudly the arms of the city. These arms are on a plate above the gate, in a tangle of ornaments, of palms and of foliage, overhanging a small stone lantern, gilded and painted red, which is the bright spot of this strange frontage.

In all this there is nothing very imposing or masterly. The old Town Hall, of which a drawing has been preserved by Blaeu, had a more severe and appropriate exterior. It was a large, noble structure, with three gables, crowned by two bhattlemented towers. Alongside of it was an old castle, the Gruitersma Stins, with projecting galleries, giving it the repulsive look of the fortifications of olden times. It had an imposing appearance, but when the rococo fever prevailed, the ancient structures were removed, and the existing coquettish Stvdhuis was built.

The destructive effects of this fever did not stop there. It transformed to the taste of that time an old gate of the town, which now has the strangest

THE ‘WOOGENDSTER-PIJP. 15:

possible appearance. Picture to yourself two fine, brick-built, octagonal towers, with alternate ridges of stone, each crowned by an enormous pointed roof, loopholed for musketry, and with a decidedly warlike aspect.

To unite these fine towers is a heavy masonry foundation divided by two large openings, one. over the other. These are surmounted by a gable, ornamented with three huge windows, bordered with carved foliage, over which is a balustraded belfry — all in the purest Louis XV. style.

Never has so singular a juxtaposition produced so strange an effect. Ata distance the amalgam has a Chinese and Japanese look, and removes one some five thousand leagues from Sneek and Friesland.

This singularly restored gate rejoices in the name of Hoogendster-pijp, which means a water gate, because it surmounted the canal, of which it commanded the access. The lower part was large enough to allow boats to pass through, and the bridge over this bay is one of the highest points of the town, one of the rare spots never reached by inundation. The floods nevertheless often flowed along the streets of this pretty little Friesland town. In 1750, and in 1825 in particular, they caused great and irreparable destruction.

Of the tendency of this last disaster, as threatening the destruction of the whole of Friesland, mention has been made in my former work on the Zuyder Zce.

The waters had covered the country for several

16 FEARFUL FLOODS.

days, when the neighbouring peasants, driven from their farms and villages, encamped with their cattle on the quays and streets, and sought an asylum from the generous little town.

In this way passed All Saints’ Day, when in the evening, in spite of wind and rain, an attempt was made to light fires. Suddenly a terrible grinding noise was heard—the dikes of Sneek had burst, and in a few moments there were five feet of water in the town. The open spaces, streets, and quays all disappeared under this sudden flood. Wild with fear, the cattle burst their bonds, and the disorder was at its height. Carried away by the torrents which rushed in every direction, men, women, children, and cattle were cast into the canal and pitilessly drowned. For several hours the groans and cries of the victims mingled with the howling of the hurricane. Then there was silence, icy and terrible, for inexorable Death had closed for ever, the lips frozen by fear and cold.

Notwithstanding, several peasants found refuge on the bridge of the Old Gate, where, on this shaky shelter, they passed a fearful night, trying in vain to rescue some of the victims carried away by the current.

At daybreak a sad sight was unfolded. The carcases of cattle and their human companions, carried along by the current, were engulfed under their feet, to continue their cadaveric career far away. The green fields, covered by the floods, looked like float-

FIRE AND WATER. 17> ing cemeteries. Suddenly on the horizon, in the grey dawn, appeared a pale blue form, from which shrill and strange cries proceeded. As the phantom approached, the cries became more piercing, when a daring fisher hooked a cradle, in which were an infant andacat. The cat, by its cries of terror, had attracted attention. The dear little cherub was asleep. Who was he? Whence came he? He was considered an orphan—which doubtless he was—was adopted by the city, and grew into a good citizen.

And the cat ?

The cat ! The writers of the sixteenth century took no note of cats, and so we know nothing more about it.

If floods were unfriendly to our little Friesland friend, fire was nearly as inexorable, for on a hundred occasions it carried its destruction across her streets and along her canals. The two most memorable visitations, were those of 1294 and 1456. In the first of these disastrous years the whole town was destroyed, with the exception of two houses almost miraculously preserved. In 1456 twenty-six houses perished in a single day from this destroying curse. Happily, these melancholy dates are now far removed, and Sneek has had time to heal her wounds. To see her to-day, smart and coquettish, with her shady canals and her dainty places, no one could realise the trials she has undergone.

Here and there good old houses with arabesqued gables or attics, alternate with wooden habitations,

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18 ‘WIITHER AWAY?’

all, whether ancient or modern, being scrupulously clean and sedulously cared for. Add to this several good shops, particularly jewellers’ and pastry-cooks’, ! and Sneek’s pretension to be the capital of Friesland is easily explained, for the ambitious little town is not afraid of disputing with big Leeuwarden for the provincial sceptre—a quarrel of old standing. In the fifteenth century, when the turbulent towns of Friesland were skirmishing for the general emancipation of the province, each of them essayed to subdue the other; they waged internecine war with varying fortune, and Sneek in 1486 possessed the honour, if it be one, of vanquishing her rival. Their citizens were already marching to the siege of the distant capital, having fraternised with Franeker, when they fell in with two ladies, and then occurred one of those gallant adventures that occasionally cropped up in the Italian partisan campaigns. ‘Whither are you bound?’ enquired the two charmers. ‘To the war,’ responded our citizen heroes—‘ to the war of brave soldiers.’ In the words of the old Venetian ballad—

‘ My gentle lord, whither away ?’

‘ To the war I go, my pretty maid, With soldiers brave to share the fray.’

‘And with whom are we at war ?’ ‘ With Leeuwarden, to abate her pride.’ But our fair travellers were honest maidens of Leeuwarden, and so they entreated

1 All the small Dutch and Friesland towns possessed good jewellers’ shops and pastrycooks, especially those surrounded by rich and fertile country. Like most other towns, Sneek has a cake of its own called drabbelkoeken,

SNEEK AND LEEUWARDEN. 19 with such tender prayers that all hearts were softened, the Sneekers halted, and after holding counsel, sent the gentle wayfarers with an ultimatum to their rival. It proved a fruitless mission, for the town was taken and sacked, and many of the most notable citizens were carried prisoners to Sneek. And it was thus in the fifteenth century, that Sneek fought for her supremacy.

But, to sustain her pretensions to a leading position, our little town is neither very ancient nor particularly well peopled. Her first appearance in the history of the province was in 1268, and in 1294, at the time of the great fire, her houses were all of wood, and she had scarcely a surrounding wall. Her population, which now numbers 8,000 or 9,000 souls, was probably never much in excess of the latter figure. Her industries, confined to a few textile factories, mills, and timber-yards, did not justify her lofty pretensions. The surrounding meadows are beautiful and productive, but so are those of Leeuwarden, and at the time of the war above referred to Sneek was actually inferior to her rival in those respects—for her chief wealth consisted in eels, which abounded in the vicinity, while that of Leeuwarden was made up of the fat of the land, the produce of her meadows and rich kine. The name of eel-merchants (schieringers) was applied to the Sneekers in the time of Blaeu, who mentioned that the eel-fishery "was the chief source of their wealth.

But pride of pedigree, courage, and audacity

c 2

20 LANGE PIER.

justified such pretensions in those days. Mention was made just now of the condvttier’, and there is, in truth, much analogy between the contests of the small Italian Republics and those which caused bloodshed in the Friesland cities, and between the chiefs engaved in those little adventurous exploits, which scarcely attained the dignity of war.

The Church of St. Martin at Sneek contains the remains of one of the most renowned of these partisans—Peter van Heemstra, born no one knows exactly when or where—a bold chieftain on sea and land; feared everywhere—who breathed his last at Sneek on the 18th of October, 1520. This fiery fighter had some of the quaint characteristics of his time. Ile was nicknamed ‘ Lange Pier’ (‘ Long Stone’), from his great height, and under this nom de guerre (the epithet is appropriate) he became renowned in Holland, Friesland, and Guelderland.

Lange Pier was not the only giant reared in Sneek, which boasted, with a better title than that of receiving the last breath of the big admiral, of having given the first breath to ‘Grand Jakob,’ who was authorised to add the name of his native town to his title of ‘Lange Jakob,’ to distinguish him from all other Jakobs, past, present, and to come.

Lange Jakob was over eight feet high, and stout in proportion; and, to verify the ancient adage that married couples should be well matched, the giant married a dwarf of scarcely forty-eight inches. She was known as ‘ Korte Jannitie’ (‘Little Jenny’). This

LITTLE JENNY. 21 pretty couple at the beginning of the last century were a source of endless fun to the good people of Sneek. They were invited everywhere, and even artists made capital out of them. A great engraver printed the giant’s portrait, and a poet illustrated it with a couple of versicles, which may be thus interpreted: ‘I am great externally,’ said Lange Jakob, ‘and have an equally capacious interior. I can lick the whole world in eating and drinking.’ ‘ And I)’ said his little spouse, ‘am Little Jenny. If a woman is a plague abroad, and a pest at home, I am the smallest plague you can find.’ Thus it will be seen that courtesy and gallantry had decreased in Sneek since the time when the two ‘honest damsels’ had softened all hearts with their tears and prayers.

The great Church of St. Martin, where Lange Pier and Lange Jakob lie together, is a vast structure dating from the second half of the fifteenth century, repaired in 1503, nearly reconstructed in 1682, and so transmuted as not to merit much attention. Besides, something may be said about it when we speak of the church of Bolsward, built on the same plan, and probably by the same architect.