LIBRARY OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS
AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN
823
M361I
1834
v . 6
ILLUSTRATIONS
OF
POLITICAL ECONOMY.
BV
HARRIET MARTIXEAU.
MESSRS. VANDERPUT AND SNOEK.
THE LOOM AND THE LUGGER.-P.rn I.
THE LOOM AND THE LUGGER.— Part II.
IN NINE VOLUMES.
VOL. VI.
LONDON:
CHARLES FOX, PATERNOSTER-ROW.
MUCCCXXXIV.
LONDON:
Printed by William Clowes,
Duke-street, Lambeth.
6 ~s 5
b
CONTENTS.
MESSRS. VANDERPUT AND SNOEK.
PAGE
1
21
HAP.
1. Morning
2. An Excursion .
3. Family Arrange-
ments .... 42
4. "Wise Men at Supper 5G
CHAP. [PACE
5. Going Northwards 81
G. News from Home . 90
7. A Night's Probation 108
8. News at Home . .124
9. Close of a brief Story 132
THE LOOM AND THE LUGGER.— Part I.
1. Taking an Order . 1
2. Giving an Order . 1G
3. Dumb Duty . . 2G
4. An Afternoon Trip 45
5. Morning Walks . G3
G. A Night Watch . 92
7. Hear the News ! .113
THE LOOM AND THE LUGGER.— Part II.
1. The Coopers at Home 1
2. Matters of Taste . 19
3. Chance Customers . 43
4. Grief and Dancing 03
5. Hate and Hand-bills 7#
G. Investigations . .109
7. Prospective Brother-
hood .... 132
ILLUSTRATIONS
OF
POLITICAL ECONOMY.
No. XVI.
MESSRS.
VANDERPUT AND SNOEK.
£ Cat*.
By HARRIET MARTINEAU.
LONDON:
CHARLES FOX, 67, PATERNOSTER-ROW.
1633.
LONDON:
PK1NTKD BY \V. CLOWES,
Stamford Street.
MESSRS.
VANDERPUT AND SNOEK.
3 Catc.
BY
HARRIET MARTINEAU.
LONDON :
CHARLES FOX, G7, PATERNOSTER-ROW.
1S33.
3 3
ff\l
CONTENTS.
Chap. Tage
1. Mourning , 1
2. An Excursion 21
3. Family Arrangements .... . 42
4. Wise Men at Supper ...... 5G
5. Going Northwards ...... 81
6. News from Home 90
7. A Night's Probation 103
8. News at Home 124
9. Close of a brief Story 132
PREFACE,
In planning the present story, I was strongly
tempted to use the ancient method of exemplifica-
tion, and to present my readers with the Adven-
tures of a Bill of Exchange, so difficult is it to
exhibit by example the process of exchange in any
other form than the history of the instrument. If,
however, the transactions of Messrs. Vanderput
and Snoek should be found to furnish my readers
with a pretty clear notion of the nature and opera-
tion of the peculiar kind of currency of which this
Number treats, I shall readily submit to the deci-
sion that the present volume has little merit as a
specimen of exemplification. Though the working
of principles might be shown in this case, as in any
other, it could not, I think, be done naturally in a
very small space. If I had had liberty to fill three
octavo volumes with the present subject, an inte-
resting tale might have been made up of the effects
on private fortunes of the variations in the course
of the Exchange, and of the liabilities which attend
the use of a partial and peculiar representative of
value. As it is, I have judged it best to occupy a
large portion of my confined space in exhibiting a
state of society to which such a species of currency
is remarkably appropriate, in order that light
might be thrown on the nature and operation of
bills of exchange by showing what was being done,
and what was wanted by those who most extensively
adopted this instrument into their transactions.
VI PREFACE.
In case of any reader questioninc; whether Dutch-
men in the seventeenth century could advocate free
trade, I mention that the principle has never been
more distinctly recognized than at a remoter date
than I have fixed, by countries which, like Holland,
had little to export, and depended for their prosperity
on freedom of importation. Every restriction im-
posed by the jealousy of those from whom they
derived their imports was an unanswerable argu-
ment to them in favour of perfect liberty of ex-
change. As their herrings and butter were univer-
sally acknowledged to be the best herrings and
butter in existence, and yet were not enough for
the perfect comfort of the Dutch, the Dutch could
not resist the conclusion, that the less difficulty
there was in furnishing their neighbours with their
incomparable herrings and butter, in return for
what those neighbours had to offer, the better for
both parties. The Dutch of the seventeenth cen-
tury were therefore naturally enlightened advocates
of free trade.— Whether their light has from that
time spread among their neighbours equally and
perpetually, my next Number will show.
Messrs. VANDERPUT & SNOEK.
Chapter I.
MOURNING.
During the days when the prosperity of the
United Provinces was at its height, — that is,
during the latter half of the 17th centurv, — it
could hardly be perceived that any one district
of Amsterdam was busier than another, at any
one hour of the day. There was traffic in the
markets, traffic on the quays, the pursuit of
traffic in the streets, and preparation for traffic
in the houses. Even at night, when the casks
which had been piled before the doors were all
rolled under shelter, and dogs were left to watch
the bales of merchandize which could not be
stowed away before dark, there was, to the eye
of a stranger, little of what he had been ac-
customed to consider as repose. Lights glanced
on the tossing surface of the Amstel, as home-
ward-bound vessels made for the harbour, or
departing ships took advantage of the tide
to get under weigh. The hail of the pilots or
the quay-keepers, or of a careful watchman
here and there, or the growl and bark of a sus-
picious dog, came over the water or through the
16 B
2 MOURNINCI.
lime avenues with no unpleasing effect upon the
wakeful ear, which had been so stunned by the
tumult of noon-day as scarcely to distinguish one
sound from another amidst the confusion.
One fine noon, however, in the summer of
1696, a certain portion of the busiest district
of Amsterdam did appear more thronged than
the rest. There was a crowd around the door of
a handsome house in the Reiser's Graft, or
Emperor's-street. The thickly planted limes were
so far in leaf as to afford shade from the hot sun,
reflected in gleams from the water in the centre
upon the glaring white fronts of the houses ;
and this shade might tempt some to stop in their
course, and lounge: but there, were, many who
were no loungers flocking to the spot, and mak-
ing their way into the house, or stationing them-
selves on the painted bench outside till they
should receive a summons from within.
The presence of one person, who stood mo-
tionless before the entrance, sufficiently explained
the occasion of this meeting. The black gown
of this officer, and his low cocked hat, with its
long tail of black crape, pointed him out as the
Aanspreeker who, having the day before made
the circuit of the city to announce a death to all
who knew the deceased, was now ready to attend
the burial. He stood prepared to answer all
questions relative to the illness and departure
of the deceased, and the state of health and
spirits of the family, and to receive messages
for them, to be delivered when they might be
supposed better able to bear them than in the
MOURNING. 3
early hours of their grief. Seldom were more
inquiries addressed to the Aanspreeker than in
the present instance, for the deceased, Onno
Snoek, had been one of the chief merchants of
Amsterdam, and his widow was held in high
esteem. The officer had no sooner ended his
tale than he had' to begin it again; — how the
patient's ague had appeared to be nearly over-
come ; how he had suffered a violent relapse ;
how the three most skilful French apothecaries
had been called in, in addition to the native
family physician ; how, under their direction, his
son Heins had opened the choicest keg of
French brandy, the most precious packages of
Batavian spices in his warehouse, for the sake
of the sick man; how, notwithstanding these
prime medicaments, the fever had advanced so
rapidly as to prevent the patient from being
moved even to the window, to see a long ex-
pected ship of his firm come to anchor before
his own door ; how he seemed to have pleasure
in catching a glimpse of her sails through the
trees as he lay in bed ; but how all his en-
deavours to live till morning that he might hear
tidings of the cargo, had failed, and rather
hastened his end, insomuch that he breathed his
last before dawn.
Among the many interrogators appeared a
young man who was evidently in haste to enter
the house, but wished first to satisfy himself by
one or two questions. He wore the dress of a
presbyterian clergyman, and spoke in a strong
French accent,
b2
1 MOURNING.
" I am in haste/' he said, M to console my
friends, from whom I have been detained too
long. I was at Saardam yesterday, and did not
hear of the event till this morning. I am in
haste to join my friends ; but I must first know
in what frame the husband, — the father, — died.
Can you tell me what were the last moments
which I ought to have attended? "
The officer declared that they were most
edifying. The patient's mind was quite collected.
"Thank Got! !" exclaimed M. Aymond, the
iivine.
11 Quite collected," continued the officer,
" and full of thought for those he left behind,
as he showed by the very last thing he said.
He had most carefully arranged his affairs, and
given all his directions in many forms ; but
he remembered, just in time, that he had
omitted one thing. He called Mr. Heins to his
bed-side, and said, ' my son, there is one debtor
of ours from whom you will scarce recover
payment, as I never could. Meyerlaut has for
many months evaded paying me for the last
ebony we sold to him. Let him therefore make
my coffin. — Stay ! — 1 have not done yet. — You
will, in course of nature, outlive your mother.
Let her have a handsome coffin from the same
man ; and if it should please Heaven to take
more of you, as our beloved Willebrod was
taken, you will bear the same thing in mind,
Heins, I doubt not ; for you have always been
a dutiful son.' ''
" This is the way Heins told you the fact ?"
MOURNING. I
asked Aymond. " "Well, but were these the
last, — the very last words of the dying man ?"
Heins had mentioned nothing that was said
afterwards ; so the divine pursued his way ^intc
the house with a sad countenance. Instead ol
joining the guests in the outer apartment, he
used the privilege of his office, and of his inti-
macy with the family, and passed through to the
part of the house where he knew he should find
the widow and her young people. Heins mel
him at the door, saying,
" I knew you would come. I have been
persuading my mother to wait, assuring her that
you would come. How we have wished for you !
How we "
Aymond, having grasped the hand of Heins,
passed him to return the widow's greeting.
She first stood to receive the blessing he bestowed
in virtue of his office, and then, looking him
calmly in the face, asked him if he had heard
how God had been pleased to make her house
a house of mourning.
" I find dust and ashes where I looked for the
face of a friend," replied the divine. " Can you
submit to Heaven's will ?"
" ~We have had grace to do so thus far,"
replied the widow. " But whether it will be
continued to us when "
Her eyes filled, and she turned away, as if to
complete her preparations for going forth.
" Strength has thus far been given according
to thy day," said Aymond. " I trust that it will
b3
6 MOURNING.
be" thus bestowed for ever." And lie gave his
next attention to one whom he was never known
to neglect ; one who loved him as perhaps no-
body else loved him, — Heins's young brother,
Christian.
Christian had suffered more in the twelve
years of his little life than it is to be hoped many
endure in the course of an ordinary existence.
A complication of diseases had left him in a
state of weakness from which there was little or
no hope that he would ever recover, and subject
to occasional attacks of painful illness which
must in time wear him out. He had not grown,
nor set a foot to the ground, since he was five
years old : he was harassed by a perpetual
cough, and in constant dread of the return of a
capricious and fearful pain which seldom left
him unvisited for three days together, and some-
times lasted for hours. When in expectation
of this pain, the poor boy could think of little
else, and found it very difficult to care for any
body ; but when Buffering from nothing worse
than his usual helplessness, his great delight
was to expect M. Aymond, and to get him
seated beside his couch. Aymond thought that
he heard few voices more cheerful than that of
his little friend, Christian, when it greeted him
from the open window, or made itself heard into
the passage, — ' Will you come in here, M.
Aymond? I am in the wainscoat parlour to-
day, M. Aymond.'
Christian had no words at command this day.
MOURNING. 7
He stretched out his arms in silence, and sighed
convulsively when released from the embrace of
his friend.
" Did I hurt you ? Have vou any of your pain
today?"
" No ; not yet. I think it is coming ; but
never mind that now. Kaatje will stay with
me till you come back. You will come back,
M. Aymond."
When the pastor consented, and the widow
approached to bid farewell to her child for an
hour, Christian threw his arms once more round
Aymond's neck. His brother Luc, a rough
strong boy of ten, pulled them down, and re-
buked him for being so free with the pastor ;
and little Roselyn, the spoiled child of the
family, was ready with her lecture too, and told
how she had been instructed to cross her hands
and wait till M. Aymond spoke to her, instead
of jumping upon him as she did upon her
brother Heins. Christian made no other reply
to these rebukes than looking with a smile in
the face of the pastor, with whom he had esta-
blished too good an understanding to suppose
that he could offend him by the warmth of an
embrace.
" I am sorry you cannot go with us, my
poor little Christian," said Heins, who had a
curious method of making his condolences irk-
some and painful to the object of them. "I
am sorry you cannot pay this last duty to our
honoured parent. You will not have our satis-
faction in looking back upon the discharge of it."
) MOURNING.
11 Christian is singled out by God for a dif-
ferent duty," observed the pastor. " He must
how cheerful submission to his heavenly pa-
ent while you do honour to the remains of an
larthly one."
Christian tried to keep this thought before
iim while he saw them leaving the room, and
leard the coffin carried out, and the long train
)f mourners, consisting of all the acquaintance
)f the deceased, filing away from the door. —
When the last step had passed the threshold,
md it appeared from the unusual quiet that the
n*owd had followed the mourners, Christian
urned from the light, and buried his face in
me of the pillows of his couch, so that Katrina,
;he young woman who, among other offices,
ittended upon him and his little sister, entered
mperceived by him. She attracted his atten-
tion by the question which he heard oftener
than any other, — ' the pain ? '
" No," answered the boy, languidly turning
bis head ; "I was only thinking of the last
time " Either this recollection, or the
sight of Katrina's change of dress overcame
him, and stopped what he was going to say.
Hie short black petticoat, measuring ten yards
in width, exhibited its newness by its bulk, its
plaits not having subsided into the moderation
Df a worn garment. The blue stockings, the
neat yellow slippers had disappeared, and the
gold fillagree clasps in the front of the close
cap were laid aside till the days of mourning
should be ended. While Christian observed all
MOURNING. 9
this, contemplating her from head to foot, Ka-
trina took up the discourse where he had let it
fall.
" You were thinking of the last time my
master had you laid on the bed beside him.
It will always be a comfort to you, Christian,
that he told you where he was departing."
" He did not tell me that," said "the boy ;
"and that is just what I was wondering about.
He said he was going, and I should like to
know if he could have told where."
"To be sure he could. He was one of the
chosen, and we know where they go. So much
as you talk with the pastor, you must know that."
"I know that it is to heaven that they go,
but I want to know where heaven is. Some of
them say it is paradise ; and some, the New Je-
rusalem ; and some, that it is up in the sky
among the angels. But do all the chosen know
where they are going?"
Certainly, Katrina believed. The dying be-
liever was blessed in his hope. Christian was
not yet satisfied.
" I think I shall know when I am dying,"
said he. "At least, I often think I am dying
when my pain comes in the night ; but I do not
know more about where I am goinij then than
at other times."
Katrina hoped his mind was not tossed and
troubled on this account.
" O, no ; not at all. If God is good to me,
and takes care of me here, he will keep me safe
any where else, and perhaps let me go about
10 MOURNING.
where I like. And O, Kaatje, there will be no
more crying, nor pain ! I wish I may see the
mgels as soon as I die. Perhaps father is with
he angels now. I saw the angels once, more
man once, I think ; but once, I am sure."
In a dream, Katrina supposed.
" No, in the broad day, when I was wide
iwake. You know I used to go to the chapel
jefore my cough was so bad ; as long ago as I can
•emember, nearly. There are curious windows
n that chapel, quite high in the roof ; and I
)ften thought the day of judgment was come ;
tnd there was a light through those windows
ihining down into the pulpit ; and there the
mgels looked in. I thought they were come
br me, unless it was for the holy pastor."
"But would you have liked to go ? "
" Yes : and when the prayer came after the
lermon, instead of listening to the pastor, I
ised to pray that God would send the angels to
ake me away."
Katrina thought that if Christian had lived in
mother country, he would have made a fine
nartyr.
" I don't know," said the boy, doubtfully.
: I have thought a great deal about that, and I
m not so sure as I used to be. If they only
ut off my head, I think I could bear that.
3ut as for the burning, — I wonder, Kaatje,
idiether burning is at all like my pain. I am
ure it cannot be much worse."
Katrina could not tell, of course ; but she
risked lie would not talk about burning, or
MOURNING, 11
about lu's pain ; for it made him perspire, and
brought on his cough so as to exhaust him to a
very jjernicious degree. He must not talk any
more now, but let her talk to him. He had
not asked yet what company had come to the
funeral.
Christian supposed that there was every body
whom his father had known in Amsterdam.
Yes, every body : and as there were so many
to drink spirits at the morning burial, her mis-
tress chose to invite very few to the afternoon
feast. Indeed her mistress seemed disposed to
have her own way altogether about the funeral.
Every body knew that Mr. Heins would have
liked to have it later in the day, and would not
have minded the greater expense for the sake of
the greater honour.
" I heard them talk about that," said Christian.
" My mother told Heins that it was a bad way
for a merchant to begin with being proud, and
giving his father a grand funeral ; and that the
best honour was in the number of mourners who
would be sure to follow an honest man, whether
his grave was filled at noon or at sunset. My
mother is afraid of Heins making a show of his
money, and learning to fancy himself richer than
he is."
Katrina observed that all people had their own
notions of what it was to be rich. To a poor
servant-maid who had not more than 1000
guilders out at interest
" But your beautiful gold chain, Kaatje! Your
silver buckles ! I am sure you must have ten
pair, at the least."
[2 MOURNING.
" Well, but, all this is less than many a maid
ias that has been at service a shorter time than I
uive. To a poor maid-servant, I say, it seems
ike being rich to have I don't know how
nany loaded ships between China and the
rexel."
" They belong as much to Mr. Vanderput as
o us, vou know. Is Mr. Vanderput here to-
lay ?"
" To be sure. He is to be at the burial -feast ;
md Miss Gertrude ."
*' Gertrude ! Is Gertrude here V* cried Chris-
ian, sitting up with a jerk which alarmed his
ittendant for the consequences. " O, if she will
stay the whole day, it will be as good as the
)astor having come back."
" She crossed from Saardam on purpose. She
will tell you about the angels, if any body can ;
for she lives in heaven as much as the pastor
himself, they say."
" She is an angel herself," quietly observed
Gertrude's little adorer. Katrina went on with
her list.
" Then there is Fransje Slyk and her father.
He looks as if he knew what a funeral should
be, and as grave as if he had been own brother
to the departed. I cannot say as much for
Fransje."
" I had rather have Fransje's behaviour than
her father's, though I do not much like her,"
said Christian. " Mr. Slyk always glances
round to see how other people are looking, be-
fore he settles his face completely."
" Well ; you will see how he looks to-day.
MOURNINO. 13
These are all who will stay till evening, I be-
lieve, except Mr. Visscher."
'* Mr. Visscher ! What is he to stay for ? I
suppose Heins wants to talk to him about this
new cargo that came too late. O, Kaatje, I
never can bear to look through the trees at that
ship again. I saw the white sails in the moon-
light all that night when I lay watching what
was going on, and heard Heins's step in and out,
and my mother's voice when she thought nobody
heard her ; and I could not catch a breath of
my father's voice, though I listened till the rustle
of my head on the pillow startled me. And then
my mother came in, looking so that I thought
my father was better ; but she came to tell me
that I should never hear his voice any more.
But 0, if she knew how often I have heard it
since ! how glad I should be to leave off hearing
it when I am alone ."
Poor Christian wept so as not to be comforted
till his beloved friend Gertrude came to hear what
he had to say about those whom he believed to
be her kindred angels.
Hci is was missed from the company soon
after +.ie less familiar guests had departed, and
left the intimate friends of the family to com-
plete the offices of condolence. Heins was as
soon weary of constraint as most people, which
made it the more surprising that he imposed on
himself so much more of it than was necessary.
All knew pretty well what Heins was, though he
was perpetually striving to seem something else ;
and his painful eilbrts were just so much labour
c
L4 MOURNING.
n vain. Every body knew this morning}
;h rough all the attempts to feel grief by which he
fried to cheat himself and others, that his father's
leath was quite as much a relief as a sorrow to
aim ; and that, while he wore a face of abstrac-
tion, he was longing for some opportunity of
getting out upon the quay to learn tidings of the
ships and cargoes of which he was now in fact
master. The fact was that Heins was as much
bent on bein^ rich as his father had been, but he
wanted to make greater haste to be so, and to
2njoy free scope for a trial of his more liberal
commercial notions. For this free scope, he
must yet wait ; for his partner, Mr. Vanderput,
was as steady a man of business, though a less
prejudiced one, than the senior Snoek had been ;
and then there was Mrs. Snoek. She was not
permitted, by the customs of the country, to med-
dle in affairs relating to commerce ; but she knew
her maternal duty too well not to keep an eye on
the disposal of the capital which included the for-
tunes of her younger children. It was to be
apprehended that she would be ready with ob-
jections whenever a particularly grand enterprize
should demand the union of all the resources of
the firm. Some liberty had, however, been gained
through the obstinacy of the fever which would
not yield to French brandy and Oriental spices ;
and there were many eyes upon Heins already,
to watch how he would set out on his commercial
career.
Some of these, eyes followed him from his
mother's door to the quay, and back again, when
MOURNING. 15
he had concluded his inquiries among the cap-
tains. It was remarked that there was, during
the latter transit, a gloom in his countenance
which was no mockery.