Beyond question the Dutch have this advantage,
beyond other nations, in helping us to an
exact view of how their forefathers looked, by
reason of this painfully minute handling of
their painters, a legion of Denners,
reproducing every hair, and mole, and wrinkle.
Saving always Rembrandt the Bold, splashing
in his colours with a noble purpose, bringing
out those Rabbi heads of his by whatever treatment
seemed fittest at the moment, humble
agency of thumb-nail, piece of stick, brush-
handle, being all available, and doing better
service than the finest brush. That great
supper picture, then, we may take as most
faithful chronicle of the sturdy old Hogen
Mogen days, before which may be seen rapt
connoisseurs, backing absently on neighbours'
toes, and making lorgnettes of their hands :
before which, too, great Sir Joshua was filled
with wonder and delight, writing down
hereafter, that it was the finest portrait picture
in the world ; compared then, with which
standard, our modern Dutchman must be
taken to have not at all fallen away in
physique or morale build of temperament. He is
plethoric, dropsical, slow of motion, suggestive
of apoplexy, and strangely cartilaginous
about the thorax, as of old. He has an eye
of fish— fishiest, cheeks of flesh — fleshiest, as
of old. He bears something before him, that
is fair and round, and with good (rich?)
capon lined, as of old. He relishes his meals
exceedingly, and fails not, at five minutes
before four o'clock to be in waiting at his host's
table, doing fearful work on host's provisions,
all as of old. He keeps his napkin tucked
under his chin, as one who means business,
and rejoices in many courses, letting no meats
go by him without tithe. He affects
principally, fatty preparations, stews, unctuous
fish, rich game birds wrapped in jackets of
richer bacon, and salad floating in strong oils.
To such fare does he most seriously incline ;
whereof the marks and tokens are visible
about his lips, together with a certain
exhaustion and sense of having toiled
diligently in that vineyard. The Boswellian will
be minded of the great Samuel's fashion of
deglutition, who would tear his dinner like a
famished wolf, with strange animal sounds :
the cords of his forehead swelling, and the
perspiration running down his cheeks. As to
wine, "O ! that a Dutchman's soul could be,
As wide as the foaming Zuyder Zee," is the
only too natural aspiration of every true
Hollander. For he is a gourmet as to his neat
wines, and very often you may see the landlord
bringing in an old cobwebbed flask, for
which some four or five present have clubbed
their means, and which, being filled forth into
spindle-legged glasses, is handed round and
sniffed luxuriously, and held up between the
light, and blinked at with eye half-closed,
Mynheer lolling back right royally in his
chair. French vintages are what he loves
dearest ; but your commonalty grow mellow
of festival days over Rhein wine, Selters, and
sugar compounded, with entire satisfaction.
He turns not his face away from those pink
stewed pears, neither does he eschew his
peaches, whereof his country bears a
plentiful crop. Finally, when all has been cleared,
when his now languid eye roams down the
table and up again, and sees that there is
nothing left whose quality has been untested ;
when he has had of the mouldy cheese, of
the pears, of the sweet cakes, of the peaches,
and of the pears again, he falls to fumbling
in his great pocket, and brings out the
cherished case, from which he picks, with a
certain daintiness and nicety of appetite, a fat
and fragrant cigar. So do his brethren about
him. For an hour to come, he is lost in a
cloud, speaks out of a cloud, chuckles
behind a cloud, and at the end, perhaps, drops
away into an easy doze behind his cloud.

Taking him out of these restauration-
hours, which more particularly illustrate
his physique, your Dutchman has other
marks and tokens which give him a certain
individuality and character. He is given a
little to discoursing of his country, and is
great in statistics of her trade. He will
tell you boastfully, of the great Indiamen,
he — that is, his country — has built; and how
they come home richly laden from Java
and other dependencies. He will show to
you how he (same qualification as before),
has the whole coffee trade, the whole spice
trade, of Europe, in his hands. He will
point exultingly to that monster
auction held the other night at Amsterdam,
where polyglot bidders attended, bidders from
the north, from the south, from the east and
west, and where no less than four hundred
thousand bags of coffee were disposed of.
Curiously enough, coming round that way,
not many nights before, I find a building,
lighted up, and crowds going in and coming
out, with a sort of festive air over the whole.
Gentlemen, dressed as for a party, hurrying
by and entering the building lighted up,
The stray cab, or so of the place in waiting.
A great night — a gala night! The
great July coffee sale, choicest festival that
can be for your trading Dutchman's heart!
Coffee and spices supplied to the world, in
spite of some under-hand trick of that Grand
Bretagne, striving to turn aside the trade.
He does not love England, your true Dutchman.
Thinks she has behaved scurvily to
him in some particulars:—  to say nothing of
that trade matter, in standing by while he
had been bullied by the French. Which
catchword sets him a-going upon military
glory, and upon what a great people in arms
they, the Dutch, are. Witness Chassé and
that defence of Antwerp! How he held out,
and from his citadel could have laid the town
in ashes, but forbore. He is never weary of
Chassé and the Antwerp siege. You have it
everywhere, in every shape, newspaper
allusions, small coloured prints, large coloured
prints, Ballads, Chassé the great, Chassé the