A tour through Holland

It is with great reluctance I approach the subject of the currency of Holland, but as I hope to be read by some one who may hereafter visit that country, as much a stranger as I was to it, it is fit that I should not omit it; and I hereby apprize all my chair-travelling readers of my intention, that they may leap over my table of coins if they choose so to do.

SILVER COINS.

A doyt. Worth about half a farthing.

A stiver. About a penny at par. Twelve stivers are generally, but not in every part of Holland, considered equal to a shilling. This coin resembles a silver penny.

Dubbeltje, or two stiver piece. This coin is very convenient small change.

A quarter guilder, or five stiver piece. This coin, I am told, is very rare; I met with none of it.

A zesthalven, or five stivers and four doyts. This is a piece of base metal, and equal to an English six-pence; it is very convenient for an English traveller, on account of its precise value being known.

Schellingen, of various kinds, the size of which determines the value, unless they are stamped.

Six and a half stiver piece. A silver piece, little larger than a six-pence, and the eighth part of a rix-dollar.

Eight stiver piece. A larger, but thinner piece than a schellingen, not much in circulation.

Ten stiver piece. Worth half a guilder, very scarce.

Twelve and a half stiver piece. Not much in use.

Thirteen stiver piece. A Zealand coin, and much in circulation.

A guilder or florin, or twenty stiver piece. The legitimate coin of Holland, by which they calculate, and is the best silver.

Twenty-four stiver piece, or half a rix-dollar.

Twenty-six stiver piece.

Twenty-eight stiver piece. There are many sorts of this in Holland: it is usual to receive five in a lot, each of which is equal to seven guilders.

Thirty stiver piece, or dollar. Of the value of half a crown English, and about that size.

Thirty-one and a half stiver piece, or half a ducatoon. They are rare.

Forty stiver piece, or two guilder piece. Not common.

Fifty stiver piece. The antient rix-dollar; not much in use.

Fifty-two stiver piece, or modern rix-dollar. Much in circulation: in Amsterdam, and several other places, they will not pass for more than 50 or 51 stivers. In Zealand they are worth 53.

Sixty stiver piece, called a three guilder piece. Much in use.

Sixty-three stiver piece, or ducatoon. Coined when the Spaniards were in the country.

GOLD COINS.

A ducat. A beautiful coin, of the purest fine gold. The Jews and the brokers generally deal in this coin, for which they receive two or three stivers profit on each. It is thin, and remarkably pleasant to the touch; and as a proof of its purity, it will bear to be frequently bent, without breaking. Upon almost every part of the continent this coin bears a premium, and is current throughout Europe.

A double ducat is ten guilders ten stivers.

Rider, fourteen guilders.

Half rider, seven guilders. These are current through the provinces.

I would recommend the traveller to carry with him a sufficient number of guineas for his return to England, as they are scarce and very dear; for twelve guineas I paid an exchange of 35–4 agio 104 on 145, or 13l. 4s. 6d.

COINS.

No alteration has taken place in the legends of the coins of Holland. Since the revolution there has been a copious silver coinage, but the florin has remained the same for more than a century. The old calendar is adhered to, with the slight alterations rendered necessary by a change in the name and spirit of the government.

The practice of vails-giving still continues in Holland. Previous to my going to dine with some acquaintances which I made at Rotterdam, I was particularly reminded by a friend who knew the habits of the country, not to forget to carry a few florins with me, as the servant who opened the door, upon my quitting the house, would expect either one or two of those pieces. This abominably mean practice existed in England in a higher degree, and still continues in part in the shape of card money.

If I remember correctly, we are indebted to Mr. Hanway the philanthropist, whose life is given in a very entertaining manner by his pupil and protégé, Mr. Pugh, for the abolition of giving vails to servants; previous to which, a gentleman of moderate income could scarcely afford to dine with an opulent and fashionable friend.

In houses of great resort in Holland, servants are in the habits of purchasing their places of their masters free of wages, solely for the douceurs which custom rigidly exacts from the visitor. At one table a friend of mine, a thoughtless Englishman, was reminded of his having forgotten the usage, by having a quantity of soup poured over his new coat by accidental design.

In the streets I was much gratified by seeing the fruit and vegetable sellers: the fruit was abundant, very fresh, and fine, and such as is usually to be found at the same season in England: the vegetables are remarkably excellent, and are submitted to the eye in the cleanest and most attractive manner. The Dutch potatoes are small and uncommonly good; I think they are, if possible, superior to those of Ireland.

The proximity of the houses to the canals enables the Dutch women to indulge to the full extent of their wishes, in scrubbing and mopping their passages and rooms, which they do from the first to the last blush of day; indeed, cleanliness in their houses is carried to a painful excess. All the strong features of an English Saturday evening, viz. mops, pails, scrubbing-brushes, dusters, fullers’ earth, are in active use every hour of the day, in Holland; and a little hand garden-engine is in perpetual requisition, for washing the outside of the windows.

But the aqua-terrene nymphs to whose hands these right useful instruments are committed, appear to be so solicitous of removing every feculent impression of the foot in their white-tiled halls, of giving a brilliant polish to the brass knockers, and of preserving the furniture of the rooms unsullied, that they frequently neglect to purify their own persons; the charms of which are to be often seen mingled with, if not obscured by, the accretions of long neglect and inattention.

Some travellers have extended similar remarks to the higher classes of the female sex, but unquestionably with more spleen than truth.

I had the honour of being acquainted with many Dutch ladies of respectability, and found them to be very neat in their persons, but my first remark too powerfully applies to the lower orders of the sex: they have no leisure to attend to themselves: to them, with a little transposition of the sentiment, may be applied the facetious lines that described a once celebrated opposition financier.

I remember while at Amsterdam a servant was very angry because I would not suffer her to wash my bedroom every day. It might be supposed that in a climate which must be naturally very humid, the natives would prefer having dry rooms as long as possible.

Upon some of the canals I saw Rhine boats of extraordinary dimensions; they were principally laden with hardware, and their owners and families resided wholly on board, in a suite of cabins, generally raised upon the deck, which, in point of commodious arrangement, of neatness and comfort, cannot easily be surpassed on shore. Upon the fore and aft part of the deck their ware is exposed to sale, and below are prodigious depots of the same articles. These vessels are frequently six months in their voyage up and down the Rhine, in consequence of their stopping at those cities or towns situated on its banks, where the owners are likely to have a market for their merchandize.

The reader will be surprised to hear that in several shops I saw many prints of our illustrious Nelson, in which the artist, in order to prevent the beholder from doubting that he had lost the sight of one eye in the service of his country, had the optic completely removed from its socket, and left a large frightful hole, for the purpose of illustrating this part of his heroic history.

At an excellent table d’hote, at the Mareschal de Turenne, I had the happiness of meeting several of my countrymen, who were returning to England after a long and most unjust detention at Verdun; from them I learned that specie was abundant in France, and that Napoleon scarcely admitted any paper to be in circulation; that the roads were no longer farmed, but by the aid of a small additional duty on salt, were put into the finest condition, and that no toll whatever was taken in any part of the empire. They said, that in point of restriction, they were not rigidly treated, but that there were no bounds to the rapacity of those appointed to look after them, particular of the gens d’armes.

The collections of paintings in Rotterdam are not numerous, but very select: perhaps no people upon the face of the earth ever displayed a more inveterate and immoveable attachment to every thing of native growth than the Dutch, except the Chinese, who consider improvement as penal innovation, and who confined a native in irons for life, because he ventured to make a boat upon a new construction, by which it sailed faster than any other.

This immoveable adhesion to old customs in the Dutch, is the more singular, as from their commercial character, they have been in constant intercourse with the natives of every quarter of the globe, the various produces of which they have brought into their own canals, but not for adoption, imitation, or, generally speaking, for consumption, but solely for profitable re-sale.

This spirit, or if you like to call it so, this amor patriæ, is strongly evinced in all their collections of paintings: in only one or two private cabinets in Holland are to be found any productions of the Italian and Venetian schools.

The finest private cabinet belongs to M. Vanderpals, a very rich and respectable merchant; it is principally filled by the works of those delightful masters Nicholas Berchem, and Linglebach; of the former I shall give a few striking anecdotes when I reach Haarlem, the place of his nativity; of the latter I shall briefly speak when I describe Frankfort on the Maine, where he was born.

M. Vanderpot, another wealthy merchant, has also a very large and well selected collection of the Dutch and Flemish painters. M. Lockhorst, a gentleman of commercial distinction, has also a fine assortment of pictures of the same school.

The proprietors of these valuable productions are always ready with the greatest politeness to gratify strangers with the sight of them. Amongst other artists, Rotterdam has the honour of giving birth to the Chevalier Vanderwerf, who was born in 1659, and received his first instructions from Picolet, a portrait painter; he afterwards studied under Eglon Vanderneer, under whom he made a rapid improvement: he principally confined himself to historical subjects of a small size. The Elector Palatine conceived a great fondness for him, from accidentally seeing some of his performances in that style; this prince honoured him with every mark of esteem and beneficence. He conferred upon him the honour of knighthood, ennobled his descendants, gave him a chain of gold and a medal, and his portrait set with diamonds of great value, and allowed him a noble pension, besides paying him munificently for his productions; and upon the wife of Vanderwerf presenting him with a picture drawn by herself, their royal patron bestowed upon her husband six thousand florins, and on the lady a magnificent toilette of silver. What a model of munificence and liberal policy for princes! The pictures of this eminent master are very rare, and bear very high prices. He is principally celebrated for the roundness and relief of his figures; his defect lay in a coldness of colouring. Upon his pictures he laboured with unsparing toil, which injured the spirit of his productions.

His brother, Peter Vanderwerf, was born near Rotterdam in 1665, and was the pupil of his brother Adrian. His principal subjects were portraits and conversations, which entitled him to rank as a very able artist, and as a further proof of it, a small picture of his sold, in 1713, for five hundred and fifty guilders; and another, a copy from one of his brother Adrian’s, for eight hundred guilders. I did not hear of any living painter at Rotterdam of very distinguished eminence, a circumstance somewhat singular, when it is considered how many fine artists, though inferior to Vanderwerf, that city has produced.

The perfection to which the Dutch and Flemish schools arrived, proves that great artists may be formed, without the assistance of great galleries. The present low state of the French school demonstrates, that the most magnificent collection ever known, containing the renowned and exalted specimens of art, and opened to the inspection of every one with a becoming spirit of liberality, cannot form good artists. The St. Jerome of Corregio, and the St. Cecilia of Michael Angelo, have created no successful disciple since their arrival at Paris.

At Dort, or Dordreght, a city of great antiquity, about nine miles from Rotterdam, resides a celebrated artist of the name of Varestage, aged about fifty; he is justly celebrated for his candlelight subjects, which are masterly: one of his works, a school by candlelight, and a number of children, is spoken of as truly exquisite. On account of his eyes growing weak, he has altered his manner, and at present confines himself to large figures, portraits, and conversations.

As I was informed there was nothing very attractive at Dort, I did not visit that city: it is however famous for having given birth to several able men. John Gerard Vossius studied there in 1577, and wrote a great number of learned works; he was the father of Issac Vossius, also a man of profound erudition. Our King Charles humourously observed of him, alluding to his credulity and infidelity, “that he would believe any thing but the Bible.”

Adrian Junius was born here in 1511, and was considered to be one of the most profound men of his country, and wrote many learned works. Dr. Johnson observes of Junius, in the preface to his Dictionary, “the votaries of the northern muses will not perhaps easily restrain their indignation, when they find the name of Junius thus degraded by a disadvantageous comparison, (alluding to Skinner); but whatever reverence is due to his diligence, or his attainments, it can be no criminal degree of censoriousness, to charge that etymologist with want of judgment, who can seriously derive dream from drama, because life is a drama, and a drama is a dream.”

It would be an inexpiable offence to pass over the name of Albert Kuyp, or Cuyp, who was born here, son of the well known Jacob Gerritze Kuyp, whose pupil he was, and whom he infinitely surpassed. The former excelled in whatever he attempted to represent; the diffusion of his lights is as exquisite as it is natural, and the very times of the day in which he painted are immediately discoverable; the misty haze of the morning, the brilliant lustre of noon, the last blush of evening, and the lunar beam of night from his hands, presented the closest imitations of nature, and the utmost powers the art is susceptible of. Most of his subjects were furnished by his native city and the adjacent scenery, particularly his celebrated representation of the cattle-market at Dort, and the square where the troops exercised: his works are much sought after, and preserved as great curiosities; and yet, though now so highly prized, they fell into so much disrepute, that not many years since, a large collection of his best pictures sold for eight guineas apiece, so uncertain is the opinion and taste of the public.

Even our immortal Cowper experienced the severity of popular caprice. So diffidently did he think of his abilities, that he offered his first poems to his publisher; reserving only as a remuneration, a few copies to present to his friends, from an apprehension that his works might produce rather loss than profit. These productions were, on their first appearance, very rudely handled by most of the reviewers, and nearly the whole of the copies lay like so much waste paper for a long time in the bookseller’s shop.

Some time afterwards, not wholly discouraged by this mortifying neglect, he presented through the hands of a friend, his manuscript copy of that divine poem, “The Task” upon the same terms, the merit of which, dispelled the folly or ignorance of the town, as the rays of the sun pierce through and absorb the mist, and Cowper took a high rank amongst the living great men of his century; the fame of “The Task” brought into light his former discarded productions, and their sale has ever since continued to augment the wealth of his bookseller, the venerable and much respected Johnson.

The following very interesting and extraordinary circumstance occurred at Dort in the year 1785, which is still the frequent narrative of the young and old of that city, who relate it with mingled sensations of awe and delight, as an interposition of Divine Providence in favour of a widow and her family of this city. This woman, who was very industrious, was left by her husband, an eminent carpenter, a comfortable house with some land, and two boats for carrying merchandize and passengers on the canals. She was also supposed to be worth ten thousand guilders in ready money, which she employed in a hempen and sail-cloth manufactory, for the purpose of increasing her fortune and instructing her children (a son and two daughters) in useful branches of business.

One night about nine o’clock, when the workmen were gone home, a person dressed in uniform, with a musket and broad sword, came to her house, and requested a lodging. “I let no lodgings, friend,” said the widow, “and besides, I have no spare bed, unless you sleep with my son, which I think very improper, on account of your being a perfect stranger to us all.” The soldier then shewed a discharge from Diesbach’s regiment (signed by the Major, who gave him an excellent character), and a passport from Compte Maillebois, governor of Breda. The widow, believing the stranger to be an honest man, called her son, and asked him if he would accommodate a veteran, who had served the republic thirty years with reputation, with part of his bed. The young man consented; the soldier was accordingly hospitably entertained; and at a seasonable hour withdrew to rest.

Some hours afterwards, a loud knocking was heard at the street door, which roused the soldier, who moved softly down stairs, and listened at the hall door, when the blows were repeated, and the door almost broken through by a sledge, or some heavy instrument. By this time the widow and her daughters were much alarmed by this violent attack, and ran almost frantic through different parts of the house, exclaiming “Murder! Murder!” The son having joined the soldier with a case of loaded pistols, and the latter screwing on his bayonet and fresh priming his piece, which was charged with slugs, requested the women to keep themselves in a back room out of the way of danger. Soon after the door was bursted in, two ruffians entered, and were instantly shot by the son, who discharged both his pistols at once. Two other associates of the dead men immediately returned the fire, but without effect, when the intrepid and veteran stranger, taking immediate advantage of the discharge of their arms, rushed on them like a lion, ran one through the body with his bayonet, and whilst the other was running away, lodged the contents of his piece between his shoulders, and he dropped dead on the spot. The son and the stranger then closed the door as well as they could, reloaded their arms, made a good fire, and watched till day-light, when the weavers and spinners of the manufactory came to resume their employment, who were struck with horror and surprise at seeing four men dead on the dunghill adjoining the house, where the soldier had dragged them before they closed the door.

The burgomaster and his syndic attended, and took the depositions of the family relative to this affair. The bodies were buried in a cross-road, and a stone erected over the grave, with this inscription: “Here lie the remains of four unknown ruffians, who deservedly lost their lives, in an attempt to rob and murder a worthy woman and her family. A stranger who slept in the house, to which Divine Providence undoubtedly directed him, was the principal instrument in preventing the perpetration of such horrid designs, which justly entitles him to a lasting memorial, and the thanks of the public. John Adrian de Gries, a discharged soldier from the regiment of Diesbach, a native of Middleburgh in Zealand, and upwards of seventy years old, was the David who slew two of these Goliaths, the rest being killed by the son of the family. In honorem, a gratitudine ergo, Dei optimi maximi, pietatis et innocentæ summi protectoris, magistratus et concilium civitatis Dortrechiensis hoc signum poni curavere, xx. die Nov. annoque salutis humanæ, 1785.”

The widow presented the soldier with one hundred guineas, and the city settled a handsome pension on him for the rest of his life.