Chapter IX: Introduction (8)

_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.”

“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.”

“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.