A tour through Holland

by Sir John Carr

The justly celebrated Nicholas Berghem, was born here in 1624, and studied under his father, an inconsiderable painter, whose name was Van Haarlem, which Berghem exchanged in the following whimsical manner: whilst he was a pupil of John Van Goyen, who was very fond of him, his father was one day pursuing him in the street, to give him correction for some peccadillo, when his master seeing his father gaining upon him rapidly, cried out to some of his other scholars, Berg-hem! which signifies hide him; from which circumstance he obtained and kept that name. The distinguishing characteristics of Berghem’s pictures are breadth, and just distribution of the lights, the grandeur of his masses of light and shadow, the natural attitudes of his figures expressive of their several characters, the just gradation of his distances, the brilliancy, harmony, and transparency of his colouring, the correctness and true perspective of his design, and the elegance of his composition, and his subjects however various are all equally admirable. This great man had the calamity and the infatuation to make an offer of his hand and heart to the daughter of one of the masters under whom he studied, when he left Van Goyen, of the name of Willis, who proved to be one of the most clamorous and sordid termagants that Holland, or perhaps any other country ever produced; by the terror of her tongue, and the fury of her manner, she forced him to slave at his easel without intermission, from the break to the departure of day, and frequently all night long, without permitting him to have the disposal of a single guilder without her consent: amidst this domestic broil, poor Berghem never lost his temper, he sung, whilst she scolded, as if he thought

And do you tell me of a woman’s tongue,

That gives not half so great a blow to hear

As will a chesnut in a farmer’s fire?

Taming of the Shrew, Act I. Scene 3.

In this increasing state of internal broil, this artist produced some of the finest effusions of his pencil: he was singularly curious in purchasing the finest prints and designs of the Italian masters, to improve his own taste, which after his death sold for a large sum of money: by his indefatigable industry, he produced an amazing number of pictures, which now are rarely to be purchased, and then only for prodigious prices.

The last that I shall mention is Jacob Ruysdaal, who was born here in 1636, and was the bosom friend of Berghem, who imparted to him much of the spirit which adorns his own works. No painter ever possessed a greater share of public admiration than Ruysdaal, a reputation which has remained unimpaired to this hour. His works are distinguishable by a natural and most delightful tone of colour, by a free, light, firm, and spirited pencil, and by a happy choice of situation. He was fond of introducing water into his paintings, and he was equally fortunate in representing the tumultuous foam of the torrent, as the pellucid transparency of the canal. Ruysdaal was cut off at the age of forty-five. Since the removal of Mr. Hope’s collection, there is no private cabinet of pictures in or near Haarlem worth the attention of the traveller. There is, however, a cabinet of natural history, said to be the finest in Holland, which was formed by Doctor Van Marum, whose electrical experiments have ascertained that the death of animals is coincident with the cessation of irritability: this museum is well arranged according to the Linnæan system. I heard of nothing more to detain the traveller at Haarlem. The canal from Haarlem to Amsterdam is clear and spacious, and nearly straight for the first four miles, at the lessening end of which the former city has a very agreeable appearance; but I was surprised to find so very few country-houses, and scarcely an object that denoted our approach to the renowned capital of the kingdom, and, as it has been aptly called, “the great warehouse of the world.”

About half way we changed boats, and crossed the enormous sluices which protect the country from inundation in this part: we passed over the waters of the Haarlem Meer and of the river Y, so called from its form resembling that letter, being a branch of the Zuyder Zee. The only object worthy of notice thus far was a large stone building, called the Castle Zwanenburg, the residence of the directors of the dykes and water-works of Rhynland. The cost of constructing and repairing the sluices is paid out of the general taxes. The country here is four or five feet below the level of the river Y, which, however, is rendered perfectly innocuous by the massy and prodigious dams before mentioned, the construction and preservation of which place the indefatigable enterprise and industry of the Hollander in an eminent point of view.

I reached Amsterdam just after the gates had been closed, but my commissaire and I were admitted upon paying a few stivers. As soon as we had entered, every object denoted a vast, populous, and opulent city: every street, and I passed through a great number before I reached my hotel, was tolerably well lighted, but in this respect infinitely inferior to London. At length, after traversing the city about two miles and a half, I reached the principal hotel, called Amsterdam Wappen, or the Arms of Amsterdam, which, in point of magnitude and accommodation, may vie with the first hotels in our own metropolis. Here, after an excellent supper of fish, which the Dutch dress to admiration, and some porter, which was an excellent imitation of that description of beverage for which London is so justly renowned, I found a sopha bed prepared for me, with curtains pendent from the centre, in the French taste, which much prevails in the internal arrangement of the houses of this great city.

In the morning I was awakened by the chimes of some of the churches, which in softness and sweetness resembled the distant sounds of a harp. Although it was seven o’clock, upon looking from the window, I heard the hum and beheld the bustle of business which in other countries characterise mid-day. Under the agreeable influence of a brilliant, cloudless sky, I descended into the street, and mingled with the active, ant-like multitude, every member of which presented a physiognomy full of thought and calculation: gold, gold, seemed to be the only object: