Nor brass, nor stone, nor parchment bears not one,
Let villainy itself forswear’t.
Winter’s Tale.
The old church had not sufficient attractions to induce me to enter it. The tombs of Admirals Tromp and Heine are there. Opposite the new church, in the great square, is the Stadt or Town House, the front of which is extensive, and very curious: in this house are some excellent pictures by Frank Hals, who died in 1666: this artist is justly celebrated for the beauties of his colouring and penciling. A pleasant anecdote is related of Vandyke’s having so high an opinion of the genius of this artist, that he went to Haarlem, where Hals lived, for the sole purpose of visiting him, and introduced himself as a gentleman on his travels, who had but two hours to spare, and wished in that time to have his portrait painted: Hals, who was enjoying his bottle at a tavern at the time, sprang from his companions, and on the first canvass he could lay his hands upon, commenced the portrait with all possible celerity; after he had proceeded some way, Vandyke desired to look at his progress, and observed, with great pleasantry in his countenance, that the work seemed to be so very easy, that he thought he could do the same: upon which he took up the palette and pencils, requested Hals to sit down, and painted his portrait in a quarter of an hour: the moment Hals saw it, he exclaimed with rapturous astonishment, “No one but Vandyke could have achieved such a wonder!” and embraced him with transport. Vandyke was desirous of Hals accompanying him to England, where he promised to make his fortune, but he declared that the enjoyment of his bottle and his friend was too powerful to permit him to accept of so generous and promising a proposal. Of this great painter Vandyke said, that he would have been unequalled had he given more tenderness to his colouring, and that in his pencil he was without a rival.
In the council chamber there is a fine composition by Bronchorst, who died 1661, representing the judgment of Solomon, and another of Christ driving the money changers out of the temple; the figures are finely finished, and the architecture, in which he excelled, truly admirable. In the great hall of the physicians and surgeons is a celebrated picture by Cornelius de Morn or Maan, who was born in this town, and who died 1706: the subject of it is a representation of the most celebrated doctors and surgeons of his time: it is in the manner of Titian, and in high estimation. Michael Jansen Mirevelt, who died in 1641, was also born in this town: he was an admirable portrait painter, and is said to have been in such high repute, and so indefatigable, that Sandrart, Descampe, and the authors of the Abrégé de la Vie des Peintres assert, that he painted at least ten thousand portraits, for the smallest of which he never received less than one hundred and fifty guilders, or fifteen pounds. In the surgeons’ hall there is a fine picture by this artist.
This town has produced also a self-taught poet, who flourished rather more than a century since, of the name of Hubert Noot. This man, who is said to be the father of Dutch pastoral and elegiac poetry, much resembles our Bloomfield in his early difficulties and his talents: he made his verses whilst he laboured, and committed them to memory from not being able to write. After he had taught himself to read, he even sold his wearing apparel to purchase books. He died in 1733: his images are said to be highly poetical, and his versification melodious.
In the Spin-house, or Bridewell, were several female prisoners, many of whom had been confined for several years, for respecting the genial laws of nature more than the sober laws of the nation, and some of them, for the same offence, had been publicly and severely flogged. What a contradiction in this government does its Spin and its Spill-houses present! In one place it sanctions prostitutes, and in the other imprisons and scourges them! Perhaps the legislature may think that it punishes the poor prostitute of the spill-house, by the oppression of her creditor and her gaoler; and thus, by Justice presenting a variety of shapes, she realizes the remark of our divine bard;
We must not make a scarecrow of the law,
Setting it to fear the birds of prey,
And let it keep one shape, till custom make it