Part 7 (2/2)
”It's hetter below,” quo' Tam o' the Linn.
But, sure enough, the captain's prophecy did not come true. For in a little the waves grew calmer, and my sickness left me. 'Tis true that soon we entered troubled waters once more, but I was fortified with experience, and some measure of brandy, and so could laugh defiance at the powers of the sea.
The wind throughout our course was fair in our favour, so we made the journey in shorter time than I had dared to hope for. On the morning of the third day a dense mist shut us in so that the captain was much confused and angered. But on the wind's rising, the fog rolled back, and we went on our way once more. Early in the afternoon we sighted the mouth of the Maas, and the tall lines of s.h.i.+pping which told of the entrance to Rotterdam. You may imagine that all this was very strange to me, I who had lived only among hills and rough woods, and had seen the sea but once, and that afar off. 'Twas a perpetual wonder to me to see the great sails moved up and down according to the airt of the wind, and the little helm guiding the great s.h.i.+p. As I have said, I soon got over all sickness, and was as hale as ever, so that on the last two days of the voyage I ever look back as upon a time of great pleasure.
But if my wonder was great in the open seas, 'twas still greater once we had entered the Dutch river. It was all so unlike my own land that the home-sickness which travellers tell of had almost taken hold of me.
There were all manner of s.h.i.+ps-some little coasting vessels, others, huge merchantmen which brought home the wares of the Indies and the Americas. There was such a jabbering, too, in Dutch, of which tongue I knew naught, that I longed to hear one good, intelligible word of Scots, for which cause I kept my servant near me. By and by we neared the quay, and saw the merchants' great red storehouses standing in long line, and the streets of the city running back from the river. Here we came to an anchor. Our journey was over, and I had to bid farewell to captain and vessel and go ash.o.r.e.
It is not to be expected that I should seek to describe what is known to nigh everyone in these days when a man thinks nothing of crossing to France or Holland on any pretext or in any weather. From such, therefore, by word of mouth let he who desires it seek information; for myself, I have enough to do to write down the main acts of my life.
One thing I noted-that the air was somewhat soft and damp, lacking, to my mind, the acrid strength of the air of Tweeddale, or even of the Lothians. But all the streets were clean swept and orderly; the folk well-groomed and well-looking; and the trees by the riverside gave a pleasant surprise to one accustomed to the grim, grey, narrow streets of the North. I made my way by the help of an inquisitive Scots tongue and the French language to a decent hostelry in the Grooce Markt just opposite the statue (but lately erected) of the great Erasmus. This pleased me much, for to be near even the poor bronze figure of so great a man seemed to lend to the place an air of learning. I employed myself profitably in reading the Latin inscriptions; the others I could make no more of than the rudest ploughboy in Scotland.
Both Nicol and I were up betimes in the morning, that we might get the coach for Leyden, which started almost from the door of our inn. I solemnly set down my testimony that the ale in that same house is the most villainous in the world, for it made us both dismal and oppressed, a trouble which did not leave us till we had taken our seats in the diligence and the horses were starting.
Of the events of that day's journey how shall I tell? Leyden is a day's length from Rotterdam to the north, through a land flat as a girdle-cake. The horses were lumbering, sleepy brutes, and the driver scarce any better, for every now and again he would let them come to the walk for long distances, and then, suddenly awaking to the fact that he must get to his destination before night, get up and shout wildly, and feebly flick their backs with his whip. I had much ado to keep Nicol from trying to take the reins from his hands, and, certainly, if that firebrand had once taken them, we should have awakened the quiet countryside, and, G.o.d helping us, might even have awakened the driver.
I knew nothing of the country, and heard but vaguely the names shouted out by the guard of the coach; yet, somehow or other, the name of Ryswick clung to my memory, and I remembered it well when, long after, at that place the treaty was signed which closed the war. But at that time the great duke was plain Master Churchill, and there was no thought of war between our land and France. The place was so new to my eyes that I rebelled against its persistent flatness and dull, dead water-courses; but soon I came to acknowledge a kind of prettiness in it, though 'twas of a kind far removed from the wild loveliness of Tweedside. The well-ordered strips of trees, the poplars like sentinels around the homesteads, the red-roofed homesteads themselves, with their ricks and stables, had a homely and habitable look, and such of the folk as we saw by the roadside were as sleek and stolid as their land. I could not think of the place as a nursery of high and heroical virtues, but rather of the minor moralities of good-sense and good-nature.
It was late in the afternoon when we came to Leyden, and rattled down the rough street to the market-place, which was the stopping-place of the coach. This was a town more comely and conformable to my eye than the greater city of Rotterdam. For here the streets were not so even, the houses not so trim, and the whole showing a greater semblance of age. There were many streams and ca.n.a.ls crossed by broad, low bridges.
It was a time of great mildness, for the season of the year. The place had all that air of battered age and historic worth which I have observed in our own city of Edinburgh. Even as I looked on it my mind was full of memories of that terrible siege, when the folk of Leyden held out so stoutly against the black Spaniards, till their king overthrew the d.y.k.es and saved the town by flooding the land.
It was my first concern to secure lodgings, since I purposed to spend no little portion of my time here for the next two years; and, as I had been directed by my kinsman, Dr. Gilbert Burnet, I sought the house of one Cornelius Vanderdecker, who abode in a little alley off the Breedestraat. Arrived there, I found that the said Cornelius had been in a better world for some fifteen months, but that his widow, a tranquil Dutchwoman, with a temper as long as a Dutch ca.n.a.l, was most willing to lodge me and treat me to the best which the house could afford. We speedily made a bargain in bad French, and Nicol and I were installed in rooms in the back part of the house, overlooking a long garden, which ended in one of the streams of water which I have spoken of. It was somewhat desolate at that time, but I could see that in summer, when the straight trees were in leaf, the trim flower-beds and the close-cropped lawn would make the place exceeding pretty. I was glad of it, for I am country-bred and dearly do I love greenery and the sight of flowers.
I delayed till the next morning, when I had got the soil of travel from my clothes and myself once more into some semblance of sprightliness, ere I went to the college to present my letters and begin my schooling.
So after the morning meal, I attired myself in befitting dress and put Nicol into raiment suiting his rank and company; and set out with a light heart to that great and imposing inst.i.tution, which has been the star of Europe in philosophy and all other matters of learning. I own that it was with feelings of some trepidation that I approached the place. Here had dwelt Grotius and Salmasius and the incomparable Scaliger. Here they had studied and written their immortal books; the very place was still redolent of their memories. Here, too, unless my memory deceived me, had dwelt the Frenchman, Renatus Descartes, who had first opened a way for me from the chaos of the schoolmen to the rect.i.tude of true philosophy. I scarcely dared to enroll my unworthy name in the halls of such ill.u.s.trious spirits. But I thought on my name and race, and plucked up heart thereupon to knock stoutly at the gates.
A short, stout man opened to me, clad in a porter's gown, not unlike the bedellus in the far-away college of Glasgow, but carrying in his hand a black staff, and at his belt a large bunch of keys. It came upon me to address him in French, but remembering that this was a place of learning, I concluded that Latin was the more fitting tongue, so in Latin I spoke.
”I am a stranger,” I said, ”from Scotland, bearing letters for Master Sandvoort and Master Quellinus of this place. I pray you to see if they can grant me an audience.”
He faced round sharply, as if this were the most ordinary errand in his life, and went limping across the inner courtyard till he disappeared from view behind a ma.s.sive column. He returned shortly and delivered his message in a very tolerable imitation of the language of Caesar.
”Their wors.h.i.+ps, Master Sandvoort and Master Quellinus, are free from business for the present, and will see you in their chambers.” So bidding Nicol stay in the courtyard, lest he should shame me before these grave seniors (though 'twas unlikely enough, seeing they knew no Scots), I followed the hobbling porter through the broad quadrangle, up a long staircase adorned with many statues set in niches in the wall, to a landing whence opened many doors. At one of them my guide knocked softly, and a harsh voice bade us enter. ”This is Master Sandvoort,” he whispered in my ear, ”and I trust he be not in one of his tantrums. See ye speak him fair, sir.”
I found myself in a high-panelled room, filled with books, and with a table in front of a fireplace, whereat a man sat writing. He wore a skullcap of purple velvet, and the ordinary black gown of the doctor.
His face was thin and hard, with lines across the brow and the heaviness below the eye which all have who study overmuch. His hair was turning to grey, but his short, pointed beard was still black. He had very s.h.a.ggy eyebrows, under which his sharp eyes shone like the points of a needle. Such was Master Herman Sandvoort, professor of the Latin language in the ancient college of Leyden.
His first question to me was in the Latin.
”What tongue do you speak?”
I answered that I was conversant with the English, the French, and the Latin.
”Your letters, pray,” he asked in French, and I took them from my pocket and gave them to him.
”Ah,” he cried, reading aloud, ”you desire to study in this university, and improve your acquaintance with certain branches of letters and philosophy. So be it. My fee is five crowns for attendance at my lectures. I will not abate one t.i.ttle of it. I will have no more poor students come cringing and begging to be let off with two. So understand my terms, Master Burnette.”
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