Part 8 (2/2)
”Celebrated? oh, yaas!”
”What did he _do_?” (I think MERTON gets this in.)
”Do?” says BOSCH, quite indignantly, ”he nefer do _nodings_!”
BOSCH takes me into the Fishmarket, when he directs my attention to a couple of very sooty live storks, who are pecking about at the refuse.
”Dose pirts are shtorks; hier dey vas oblige to keep alvays two shtorks for de arms of de Haag. Vhen de yong shtorks p.o.r.n, de old vons vas kill.”
SANDFORD shocked--MERTON sceptical.
”Keel dem? Oh, yaas, do anytings mit dem ven dey vas old,” says BOSCH, and adds:--”Ve haf de breference mit de shtorks, eh?”
What _is_ he driving at?
”Yaas--ven _ve_ vas old ve vas nod kill.”
This reminds BOSCH--BARLOW-like--of an anecdote.
”Dere vas a vrent to me,” he begins, ”he com and say to me, 'Bosch, I am G.o.d so shtout and my bark is so d.i.c.k, I can go no more on my lacks--vat vas I do?' To him I say, 'Wol, I dell you vat I do mit you--I dake you at de booshair to be cot op; I tink you vas make vary goot shdeak-meat!”
Wonder whether this is a typical sample of BOSCH'S _badinage_.
”What did he say to that, Bosch?”
”Oh, he vas vair moch loff, a-course!” says BOSCH, with the natural complacency of a successful humorist.
We go into the Old Prison, and see some horrible implements of torture, which seem to exhilarate BOSCH.
”Lokeer!” he says, ”Dis vas a pinition” (BOSCH for ”punishment”) ”mit a can. Dey lie de man down and vasten his foots, and efery dime he vas shdrook mit de can, he jomp op and hit his vorehaid.... Hier dey lie down de beoples on de back, and pull dis shdring queeck, and all dese tings go roundt, and preak deir bones. Ven de pinition was feenish you vas det.” He shows where the Water-torture was practised. ”Nottice 'ow de vater vas vork a 'ole in de tile,” he chuckles, ”I tink de tile vas vary hardt det, eh?” Then he points out a pole with a spiked p.r.o.ng.
”Tief-catcher--put 'em in de tief's nack--and get 'im!” Before a grim-looking cauldron he halts appreciatively. ”You know vat dat vas for?” he says. ”Dat vas for de blode-foots; put 'em in dere, yaas, and light de vire onderneat.”
No idea what ”_blode-foots_” may be, but from the relish in BOSCH'S tone, evidently something very unpleasant, so don't press him for explanations. We go upstairs, and see some dark and very mouldy dungeons, which BOSCH is very anxious that I should enter. Make him go in _first_, for the surroundings seem to have excited his sense of the humorous to such a degree, that he might be unable to resist locking me in, and leaving me, if I gave him a chance.
Outside at last, thank goodness! The Groote Kerk, according to BOSCH, ”is not vort de see,” so we don't see it. SANDFORD has a sneaking impression that I ought to go in, but MERTON glad to be let off. We go to see the pictures at the Mauritshuis instead. BOSCH exchanges greetings with the attendants in Dutch. ”Got _another_ of 'em in tow, you see--and collar-work, _I_ can tell you!” would be a free translation, I suspect, of his remarks. Must say that, in a Picture-gallery, BOSCH is a superfluous luxury. He _does_ take my ignorance just a trifle too much for granted. He _might_ give me credit for knowing the story of Adam and Eve, at all events! ”De Sairpan gif Eva de opple, an' Eva gif him to Adam,” BOSCH carefully informs me, before a ”_Paradise_,” by Rubens and Brueghel.
This rouses my MERTON half to inquire what Adam did with it.
”Oh, _he_ ead him too!” says BOSCH in perfect good faith.
I do wish, too, he wouldn't lead me up to Paul Potter's ”_Bull_,” and ask me enthusiastically if it isn't ”real meat.” I shouldn't mind it so much if there were not several English people about, without couriers--but there _are_. My only revenge is (as MERTON) to carefully pick out the unsigned canvases and ask BOSCH who painted them; whereupon BOSCH endeavours furtively to make out the label on the frames, and then informs me in desperation, ”it vas '_School_,'--ya.s.s, _he_ baint him!”
BOSCH kindly explains the subject of every picture in detail. He tells me a Droochsloot represents a ”balsham pedder.” I suppose I look bewildered, for he adds--”oppen air tance mit a village.” ”Hier dey vas haf a tispute; dis man say de ham vas more value as de cheese--dere is de cheese, and dere is de ham.” ”Hier is an old man dot marry a yong vife, and two tevils com in, and de old man he ron avay.” ”Hier he dress him in voman, and de vife is vrighten.” ”Hier is Jan Steen himself as a medicine, and he veel de yong voman's polse, and say dere is nodings de madder, and the modder ask him to trink a gla.s.s of vine.” ”Hier is de beach at Skavening--now dey puild houses on de dunes--bot de beach is schdill dere.”
Such are BOSCH'S valuable and instructive comments, to which, as representing SANDFORD and MERTON, I listen with depressed docility. All the same, can't help coming to the conclusion that Art is _not_ BOSCH'S strong point. Shall come here again--alone. We go on to the Munic.i.p.al Museum, where he shows me what _he_ considers the treasures of the collection--a gla.s.s goblet, engraved ”mit dails of tobaggo bipes,” and the pipes themselves; a painting of a rose, ”mit ade beople's faces in de leafs;” and a drawing of ”two pirts mit only von foots.”
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