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breakfast with his daughter in a verandah on the high road. Their conversation discovers the complete stagnation of trade consequent upon the insurrection, the avoidance by all real patriots connection with the revolutionary government, the mischiefs of intervention by foreign demagogues and fortune-hunting adventurers, and the recent arrival of King Leopold. Upon the village burgomaster, Pluysken, being announced, the manufacturer escapes to read the newspaper, leaving the task of entertainment to his daughter, and she, finding it rather a heavy one, by way of resource offers the visiter some breakfast. _ The rustic dignitary, whose Belgic accent and affectation of French phrases are as diverting to a Dutch, as broad Yorkshire or Somersetshire to a London audience, courteously answers, condescendingly:

Pluysken. Yes; a tasse de Caffé I will take-But what do I see! “ Anna. Why, what do you see? Pluysken, snatching a cheese* from the table, sings,

How, a cheese? Yes, a cheese!
Of crime dread load in this abode !
'Tis a cheese! Your fears should freeze!
Mercy there is none for cbeese.

your conscience stricken stand ?
Treason's here and contraband !
'Tis a cheese! Oh ! dreadful thought!
A cheese from Holland hither brought !

How, a cheese? Yes, a cheese!” &c. &c. Anna. Well; and may we not eat cheese?

Pluys. Mamselle, your honoured papa has long been suspect ; but now that a cheese, actually a Dutch cheese, has been found in his house, he is proved to be no good patriot. Anna. Oh! It is clearly bigh treason to eat cheese?

Pluys. High treason, as you have well said. And I take it when his worship the district commissioner, whom we are expecting, shall arrive, he will look queer at such things. By the bye, it would be awkward if the corpus delicti should meanwhile be made away with(tries to pocket the cheese).

No evil ensues, however, upon the adventure of the cheese, which is forgotten in the greater treason that follows. Two young Dutch sharpshooters, seeking their regiment after leave of absence, have unconsciously crossed the frontier, whence the boundary stakes have been stolen for fuel by our Belgian villagers. They begin to suspect their predicament, and seeing the burgomaster approach, strip off and hide their uniforms, &c., and

* Such readers as have not visited Holland may be ignorant that cheese is as indis. pensable a part of a genuine Dutch breakfast as bread and butter. VOL. XXI. NO, XLII.



take to fencing with sticks; they also persuade the Belgian that they are a German and an Englishman, who cannot speak Dutch, (they fear that the purity of their accent must betray their country,)—that to travel without a coat is an English fashion, and that they are sent to announce Leopold's coming: whereupon the burgomaster hurries off to prepare for the king's reception, by converting the gallows into a triumphal arch. finds her lover, Wildervanck, in one of the strangers; and as the arrival of the district comınissioner, Tortu, who is quartered upon Braaf hart, the manufacturer, prevents their retreat, she conceals them in the room of her absent brother. We shall extract part of

scene that occurs upon the commissioner's surprising the Dutchman, disguised in the brother's clothes, with Anna, who replies to Tortu's questions, that they are guests. They sing a duet, full of flattery of the would-be-great man, who, thus pro pitiated, says

“ Gentlemen, you flatter me. With whom have I the honour

Vogelaer. As Mejuforouw (Miss Braaf bart) said, unexpected guests. That gentleman is her cousin ; I am her brother.

Tortu, to Anna. I thought your brother was in England.
Vog. Yes; I have but just now returned thence with Leopold.
Tortu. With bis Majesty ? So, so! (bows profoundly.)

Enter BRAAFHART and PETER. “ Braafhart. Yes; lay the cloth here. You will give him leave, colonel ? A little collation bere will not disturb you?

Tor. Not at all. And allow me to congratulate you, Mynbeer Braaf bart : you had not told me of the return of Mynheer your son.

Braaf. My son ? “ Tor. And I am charmé to have made his acquaintance. Braaf. But I do not understand

Vog. Yes, papa, and I am no less delighted to have met with the colonel.

Braaf. Wbat can it all mean? “ An. How, papa; had you not presented my brother to the colonel ?

Tor. Excuse me; it is I who should have been presented to Mynbeer Braaf hart's son.

Braaf. (aside.) Who the deuce is the dupe? “ An. Dearest father, might I speak with you? Wildervanck. Yes, dear uncle, we have something particular to say


to you.

Braaf. (aside.) Uncle, too? I have seen those lads before.

(aloud.) With your leave, Mynheer Tortu.

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Tortu (to Vogelaer, as the rest withdraw). Might I ask a minute's conversation with you ?

Vog. With all my heart. How can I serve you?


" Tor. Shall we not sit?

Vog. With all my heart. (They sit looking at each other in silence.) He's at a loss--I have him! 'Tis but lying shamelessly-like a Belgian.

Tor. Mynheer is just arrived from England ?
Vog. With King Leopold.
Tor. I did not see your honour with his majesty.

Vog. Of course not. I obtained a fortnight's leave of absence on landing

Tor. Does your honour hold any office at court ?

" Vog. His majesty has done me the honour of appointing me Governor-General of Belgic India.

Tor. Belgic India ! Where lies that?

Vog. How? Can Mynheer be still ignorant of our having conquered Java?

Tor. Is it possible ?

Vog. Yes. A secret expedition. Two trekschuyts and a barge, taken last autumn in the Southern Willem's canal, were converted by our minister of marine into men of war.

Tor. And you are governor-general?

Vog. At your service. * * * * But to the point. You wished to speak with me.

Tor. Very true. Is your excellency aware that I am a suitor for the hand of the bewitching Anna?

"Vog. I have heard something of the kind; but that is out of the question. The sister of a governor-general of Belgic India

Tor. Your excellency is right, and yet a district commissioner, and colonel of the

Vog. Pooh, pooh! What is that? (rising and speaking pompously.) Do you know, mynbeer, that a governor-general of Belgic India never stirs abroad without an escort of a hundred black princes that he eats and drinks out of jewelled vessels ? that only sultans are privileged to wait upon him at table ? that a king undresses him ? that two Arab princesses

, stand beside him with fans, to drive away the flies? Do you know all that, mynheer ?

Tor. No, Mynbeer, I did not know it. Vog. (quietly sitting down again.) So, Mynheer! Then you know

Tor. (aside.) That's a tempting country. (Aloud.) But I consider one thing. I have now been a colonel these two months, which in our army is a good while.

Vog. That I allow; more than ten years in other countries. Tor. I have therefore a claim to be made a general.

Vog. I see your drift; but were you made minister at war, of no avail. My whole family accompany me to Batavia.

Tor. But supposing I was named, through your influence, commander-in-chief of the Belgic army in India ?

Vog. Why that would make a difference. But then I would recommend your losing no time, for there are plenty of lovers in the field.

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Tor. I will immediately repair to Brussels. I can soon dispatch my business here.

Vog. That would be my advice.

Tor. There is still one consideration. I cannot bear the sea, so can only go to Batavia over land.

Enter PLUYSKEN. Pluys. Colonel, a column of the enemy has entered the village. Vog. (aside.) That is this morning's goose. " Tor. What say you ?

Pluys. Yes; two Dutch sharpshooters were discovered this morning. They came from the heath, entered the village, and have not been seen to leave it again. So they must still be there.

Vog. (aside.) Logically deduced.
Pluys. I have ordered all under arms.
Tor. Very wisely done.

Vog. Very foolishly done. A couple of sharpshooters, and you make a fuss as if van Grene's whole division had marched in. you! Why did you not hang them at once ?

Pluys. Yes, but — (aside to Tortu) That is the English milord of this morning. But then he spoke nothing but English.

Vogelaer easily baffles the burgomaster; but a capitain-adjutant, with more sense than his colonel, discovers the real cha. racters of Wildervanck and Vogelaer, notwithstanding the ready wit and effrontery of the latter. They are seized, and ordered to be shot as spies, and Braaf hart with them, as their harbourer and accomplice. Anna now interferes, and says, speaking with effort,

“Mynheer Tortu! You have sought my hand. Release them-and I am yours.

I'or. Aba! The proud beauty is growing rational. Well, well; that way something might be done.

Braaf. No, my child, no. You shall not sacrifice yourself for my sake. Now, and for ever, I refuse my consent to such a marriage.

Vog. And I mine.
- Wildervanck. Ob that I but had my sword !

Enter PETER. Peler. Colonel, here are two millions of Dutchmen marching on the village.

Tor. Then must the whole nation be in the field. (A cannon shot is heard.) Heaven defend us !

" Pastol. Your orders, colonel ?

Tor. I don't know. I have no instructions for such a case. 'Twill be best to have my horse saddled, and ride off to the general to report the occurrence. (To Peter.) Where is my servant ?

Peter. He has just ridden away on Mynbeer's horse. - Tor. The devil! (runs out.) During this confusion the Dutch captives have got hold of their arms, with which they now put their guards to flight, and then sallying forth, make some progress in taking the village, even before the two million of Dutchmen, who prove to be their own regiment, arrive to their support. It is supererogatory to say that all ends satisfactorily, but not so, perhaps, to add that the happy catastrophe is the emigration of the Belgian manufacturer to Holland.

We now quit M. van Lennep for some of the younger poets who have arisen since his fame was fully established in Holland. The first of these, and second to Van Lennep in popularity, is Van der Hoop; and to him we shall for the present confine our attention. A. van der Hoop is a Rotterdam merchant, whose time is mainly devoted to his commercial affairs; and the modest regret he expresses in one of his prefaces for his want of a learned education-a deficiency which, he adds, he has endeavoured to remedy by unremitting diligence in the hours of relaxation-disposes us to look kindly upon the fruits of his exertions. The mercantile, like the legal poet, first formed himself by translating; and then proceeded to publish, in almost incredible abundance, occasional poems, fugitive pieces, poetic tales, and tragedies. Of these last, his Johanna Shore is esteemed the best. But it will be requisite first to glance cursorily at the character of the Dutch theatre.

Dutch tragedy, with which only we are concerned, assumed at its rise a form neither altogether imitative, nor yet original. It aimed at the old classic model, retaining even the chorus, so uncongenial to the habits and feelings of modern life: it preferred narration to action; and adopted for its language the French fashion of the Alexandrine couplet, the heaviest and most monotonous of metres; thus carefully combining every thing to prevent the excitement of strong sympathy in a modern audience. Far, even beyond French, did Dutch tragedy discard truth and nature, sacrificing the synipathies of domestic grief, and even the loftier idealization of sorrow, without ever inducing the spectator's forgetfulness that he was contemplating a work of art. In illustration, and as affording a standard by which Dutch dramatists should be measured, we may refer to an old play, still considered as the masterpiece of the Dutch drama, to wit, Vondel's Gysbrecht van Amstel.

This national tragedy professes to dramatize the surprise of a Dutch town in olden times, in a manner not unlike the taking of Troy. But all is narrated, nothing acted, except the treachery of the Dutch Sinon. The first scene announces the raising of the long-continued siege, when the present joy and past sufferings of the inhabitants are described. So are, successively, the introduce

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