Back of it is, of course, a canal, which does not smell fragrantly in the summer; and I do not wonder that William III.and his queen prefer to stop away.From the top is a splendid view of Amsterdam and all the flat region.I speak of it with entire impartiality, for I did not go up to see it.But better than palaces are the picture-galleries, three of which are open to the sightseer.Here the ancient and modern Dutch painters are seen at their best, and Iknow of no richer feast of this sort.Here Rembrandt is to be seen in his glory; here Van der Helst, Jan Steen, Gerard Douw, Teniers the younger, Hondekoeter, Weenix, Ostade, Cuyp, and other names as familiar.These men also painted what they saw, the people, the landscapes, with which they were familiar.It was a strange pleasure to meet again and again in the streets of the town the faces, or types of them, that we had just seen on canvas so old.
In the Low Countries, the porters have the grand title of commissionaires.They carry trunks and bundles, black boots, and act as valets de place.As guides, they are quite as intolerable in Amsterdam as their brethren in other cities.Many of them are Jews;and they have a keen eye for a stranger.The moment he sallies from his hotel, there is a guide.Let him hesitate for an instant in his walk, either to look at something or to consult his map, or let him ask the way, and he will have a half dozen of the persistent guild upon him; and they cannot easily be shaken off.The afternoon we arrived, we had barely got into our rooms at Brack's Oude Doelan, when a gray-headed commissionaire knocked at our door, and offered his services to show us the city.We deferred the pleasure of his valuable society.Shortly, when we came down to the street, a smartly dressed Israelite took off his hat to us, and offered to show us the city.We declined with impressive politeness, and walked on.
The Jew accompanied us, and attempted conversation, in which we did not join.He would show us everything for a guilder an hour,--for half a guilder.Having plainly told the Jew that we did not desire his attendance, he crossed to the other side of the street, and kept us in sight, biding his opportunity.At the end of the street, we hesitated a moment whether to cross the bridge or turn up by the broad canal.The Jew was at our side in a moment, having divined that we were on the way to the Dam and the palace.He obligingly pointed the way, and began to walk with us, entering into conversation.We told him pointedly, that we did not desire his services, and requested him to leave us.He still walked in our direction, with the air of one much injured, but forgiving, and was more than once beside us with a piece of information.When we finally turned upon him with great fierceness, and told him to begone, he regarded us with a mournful and pitying expression; and as the last act of one who returned good for evil, before he turned away, pointed out to us the next turn we were to make.I saw him several times afterward; and I once had occasion to say to him, that I had already told him I would not employ him; and he always lifted his hat, and looked at me with a forgiving smile.I felt that I had deeply wronged him.As we stood by the statue, looking up at the eastern pediment of the palace, another of the tribe (they all speak a little English) asked me if I wished to see the palace.I told him I was looking at it, and could see it quite distinctly.Half a dozen more crowded round, and proffered their aid.Would I like to go into the palace ? They knew, and I knew, that they could do nothing more than go to the open door, through which they would not be admitted, and that I could walk across the open square to that, and enter alone.I asked the first speaker if he wished to go into the palace.
Oh, yes! he would like to go.I told him he had better go at once,--they had all better go in together and see the palace,--it was an excellent opportunity.They seemed to see the point, and slunk away to the other side to wait for another stranger.
I find that this plan works very well with guides: when I see one approaching, I at once offer to guide him.It is an idea from which he does not rally in time to annoy us.The other day I offered to show a persistent fellow through an old ruin for fifty kreuzers: as his price for showing me was forty-eight, we did not come to terms.
One of the most remarkable guides, by the way, we encountered at Stratford-on-Avon.As we walked down from the Red Horse Inn to the church, a full-grown boy came bearing down upon us in the most wonderful fashion.Early rickets, I think, had been succeeded by the St.Vitus' dance.He came down upon us sideways, his legs all in a tangle, and his right arm, bent and twisted, going round and round, as if in vain efforts to get into his pocket, his fingers spread out in impotent desire to clutch something.There was great danger that he would run into us, as he was like a steamer with only one side-wheel and no rudder.He came up puffing and blowing, and offered to show us Shakespeare's tomb.Shade of the past, to be accompanied to thy resting-place by such an object! But he fastened himself on us, and jerked and hitched along in his side-wheel fashion.We declined his help.He paddled on, twisting himself into knots, and grinning in the most friendly manner.We told him to begone."I am," said he, wrenching himself into a new contortion, "Iam what showed Artemus Ward round Stratford." This information he repeated again and again, as if we could not resist him after we had comprehended that.We shook him off; but when we returned at sundown across the fields, from a visit to Anne Hathaway's cottage, we met the sidewheeler cheerfully towing along a large party, upon whom he had fastened.
