Мэри Додж – Hans Brinker, or the Silver Skates / Серебряные коньки. Книга для чтения на английском языке (страница 12)
“Humph!” exclaimed Ludwig indignantly. “That was high![109] What did SHE do without them, I wonder?”
“Oh,” said Peter, laughing, “likely she had another pair. At any rate she insisted upon his taking them. He was so grateful that he painted a picture of the spectacles for her, case and all, and she sold it to a
“Boys!” called Lambert in a loud whisper, “come look at this ‘Bear Hunt.’”
It was a fine painting by Paul Potter[110], a Dutch artist of the seventeenth century, who produced excellent works before he was sixteen years old. The boys admired it because the subject pleased them. They passed carelessly by the masterpieces of Rembrandt and Van der Helst, and went into raptures over an ugly picture by Van der Venne, representing a sea fight between the Dutch and English. They also stood spellbound before a painting of two little urchins, one of whom was taking soup and the other eating an egg. The principal merit in this work was that the young egg-eater had kindly slobbered his face with the yolk for their entertainment.
An excellent representation of the “Feast of Saint Nicholas” next had the honor of attracting them.
“Look, Van Mounen,” said Ben to Lambert. “Could anything be better than this youngster’s face? He looks as if he KNOWS he deserves a whipping, but hopes Saint Nicholas may not have found him out. That’s the kind of painting I like; something that tells a story.”
“Come, boys!” cried the captain. “Ten o’clock, time we were off!”
They hastened to the canal.
“Skates on! Are you ready? One, two – halloo! Where’s Poot?”
Sure enough, where WAS Poot?
A square opening had just been cut in the ice not ten yards off. Peter observed it and, without a word, skated rapidly toward it.
All the others followed, of course.
Peter looked in. They all looked in; then stared anxiously at each other.
“Poot!” screamed Peter, peering into the hole again. All was still. The black water gave no sign; it was already glazing on top.
Van Mounen turned mysteriously to Ben. “DIDN’t HE HAVE A FIT ONCE?”
“My goodness! yes!” answered Ben in a great fright.
“Then, depend upon it, he’s been taken with one[111] in the museum!”
The boys caught his meaning. Every skate was off in a twinkling[112]. Peter had the presence of mind to scoop up a capful of water from the hole, and off they scampered to the rescue.
Alas! They did indeed find poor Jacob in a fit, but it was a fit of sleepiness. There he lay in a recess of the gallery, snoring like a trooper! The chorus of laughter that followed this discovery brought an angry official to the spot.
“What now! None of this racket! Here, you beer barrel, wake up!” And Master Jacob received a very unceremonious shaking.
As soon as Peter saw that Jacob’s condition was not serious, he hastened to the street to empty his unfortunate cap. While he was stufing in his handkerchief to prevent the already frozen crown from touching his head, the rest of the boys came down, dragging the bewildered and indignant Jacob in their midst.
The order to start was again given. Master Poot was wide-awake at last. The ice was a little rough and broken just there, but every boy was in high spirits.
“Shall we go on by the canal or the river?” asked Peter.
“Oh, the river, by all means,” said Carl. “It will be such fun; they say it is perfect skating all the way, but it’s much farther[113].”
Jacob Poot instantly became interested.
“I vote for the canal!” he cried.
“Well, the canal it shall be,” responded the captain, “if all are agreed[114].”
“Agreed!” they echoed, in rather a disappointed tone, and Captain Peter led the way.
“All right, come on. We can reach Haarlem in an hour!”
Big Manias and Little Oddities
While skating along at full speed, they heard the cars from Amsterdam coming close behind them.
“Halloo!” cried Ludwig, glancing toward the rail track, “who can’t beat a locomotive? Let’s give it a race!”
The whistle screamed at the very idea – so did the boys – and at it they went.
For an instant the boys were ahead, hurrahing with all their might – only for an instant, but even THAT was something.
This excitement over, they began to travel more leisurely and indulge in conversation and frolic. Sometimes they stopped to exchange a word with the guards who were stationed at certain distances along the canal. These men, in winter, attend to keeping the surface free from obstruction and garbage. After a snowstorm they are expected to sweep the feathery covering away before it hardens into a marble pretty to look at but very unwelcome to skaters. Now and then the boys so far forgot their dignity as to clamber among the icebound canal boats crowded together in a widened harbor off the canal, but the watchful guards would soon spy them out and order them down with a growl.
Nothing could be straighter than the canal upon which our party were skating, and nothing straighter than the long rows of willow trees that stood, bare and wispy, along the bank. On the opposite side, lifted high above the surrounding country, lay the carriage road on top of the great dike built to keep the Haarlem Lake within bounds; stretching out far in the distance, until it became lost in a point, was the glassy canal with its many skaters, its brown-winged iceboats, its push-chairs, and its queer little sleds, light as cork, flying over the ice by means of iron-pronged sticks in the hands of the riders. Ben was in ecstasy with the scene.
Ludwig van Holp had been thinking how strange it was that the English boy should know so much of Holland. According to Lambert’s account, he knew more about it than the Dutch did. This did not quite please our young Hollander. Suddenly he thought of something that he believed would make the “Shon Pull” open his eyes; he drew near Lambert with a triumphant “Tell him about the tulips!”
Ben caught the word
“Oh, yes!” said he eagerly, in English, “the Tulip Mania – are you speaking of that? I have often heard it mentioned but know very little about it. It reached its height in Amsterdam, didn’t it?”
Ludwig moaned; the words were hard to understand, but there was no mistaking the enlightened expression on Ben’s face. Lambert, happily, was quite unconscious of his young countryman’s distress as he replied, “Yes, here and in Haarlem, principally; but the excitement ran high all over Holland, and in England too for that matter.”
“Hardly in England, I think,” said Ben, “but I am not sure, as I was not there at the time.”[115]
“Ha! ha! that’s true, unless you are over two hundred years old. Well, I tell you, sir, there never was anything like it before nor since. Why, persons were so crazy after tulip bulbs in those days that they paid their weight in gold for them.”
“What, the weight of a man!” cried Ben, showing such astonishment in his eyes that Ludwig fairly capered.
“No, no, the weight of a BULB. The first tulip was sent here from Constantinople about the year 1560. It was so much admired that the rich people of Amsterdam sent to Turkey for more. From that time they grew to be the rage[116], and it lasted for years. Single roots brought from one to four thousand florins; and one bulb, the Semper Augustus, brought fifty-five hundred.”
“That’s more than four hundred guineas of our money,” interposed Ben.
“Yes, and I know I’m right, for I read it in a translation from Beckman, only day before yesterday. Well, sir, it was great. Everyone speculated in tulips, even bargemen and rag women and chimney sweeps. The richest merchants were not ashamed to share the excitement. People bought bulbs and sold them again at a tremendous profit without ever seeing them. It grew into a kind of gambling. Some became rich by it in a few days, and some lost everything they had. Land, houses, cattle, and even clothing went for tulips when people had no ready money. Ladies sold their jewels and finery to enable them to join in the fun. Nothing else was thought of. At last the States-General interfered. People began to see what dunces they were making of themselves[117], and down went the price of tulips. Old tulip debts couldn’t be collected. Creditors went to law[118], and the law turned its back upon them; debts made in gambling were not binding, it said. Then there was a time! Thousands of rich speculators were reduced to beggary in an hour. As old Beckman says, ‘The bubble was burst at last.’”
“Yes, and a big bubble it was,” said Ben, who had listened with great interest. “By the way, did you know that the name tulip came from a Turkish word, signifying turban?”
“I had forgotten that,” answered Lambert, “but it’s a capital idea. Just fancy a party of Turks in full headgear squatted upon a lawn – perfect tulip bed! Ha! ha! Capital idea!”
“There,” groaned Ludwig to himself, “he’s been telling Lambert something wonderful about tulips – I knew it!”
“The fact is,” continued Lambert, “you can conjure up quite a human picture of a tulip bed in bloom, especially when it is nodding and bobbing in the wind. Did you ever notice it?”