THE TRUE HISTORY OF A GREAT PACIFICATOR.

BY HENRY BROWNRIGG, ESQ.

THOSE of our readers who have had the good fortune to visit the Hague, will probably recollect the White Hart-an humble, but remarkably neat hostelry-situated in an agreeable part of the most delightful of all European villages-a village particularly interesting to an Englishman and scholar, from the great names associated with its air of learned retirement. The whole place seems a large college, with museum and gardens. We walk there, and think of Sir William Temple, and Bolingbroke, and Bayle, and of twenty others, whose memories turn à Dutch village into an Elysium of letters; who take us back a hundred years and more, and make us people of the past, real flesh and blood of the eighteenth century. We doubt not that such have been the feelings of thousands of our readers who have visited the Hague; but we know not whether we ought to express a regret that the enjoyment of such learned abstractions is in future denied them on their return to the circle of the Dutch court; for certain we are, that they will no sooner learn the history of the illustrious individual whose birth has given a glory to the White Hart, than they will forget English ambassadors and English philosophers, in the lively curiosity that will incontinently take them to the aforesaid public-house. To begin our "true history.

It was at the White Hart, on the 2d of December, in the year one thousand eight hundred and seven, in the left front-chamber on the second story, that Diedrich Van Amburgh saw the light. He was pronounced by the Vrow Kinderkid—a woman, whose word, from her long experience in such matters, passed as an authority throughout the whole of the Netherlands--the finest man-child that in all her many days she had ever seen. Great was the rejoicing at the White Hart on the birth of little Diedrich. A Hollands tub was tapped, and every body, from the solid burgher to the drudging boor, was pressed to drink long life and happiness to the new-comer.

We can, without any perturbation of conscience, declare that, during a journey undertaken for no meaner purpose, we have met with no story, no legend, illustrative of the peculiar genius of our hero during the first six months of his eventful existence; in fact, with nothing that, philosophically considered, can be viewed as a dawning, or promise of Van Amburgh's after glory; for we are inclined to receive as apocryphal an anecdote offered to us for two guilders by a Rotterdam Jew, who professed himself ready to give an authentic pedigree of the story, an anecdote involving the character of the White Hart cat, said to have been looked into a palsy, in her attempt to steal the pap of Diedrich, the child lying at the time before a fire of glowing turf, within eye-shot of the delinquent. If the story be true, though we must not forget that men are but too prone to invent wonders for wonderful individuals, it is an extraordinary instance of the early development of that faculty which has subsequently achieved such triumphs in the brute world. The cat (we speak on the authority of the Jew) was so completely fascinated, subdued, terrified, by the glance of the babe, that in four-and-twenty hours the animal became from a most beautiful jet black, a dirty gray white.

Now, he who at six months old could look a black cat white, may be reasonably expected at thirty years to change lions into puppy-dogs and tigers into doves. Having given our faith to the first story, belief in all subsequent wonders is easy to the meanest capacity.

We are, however, happy to state that we approach a period of our hero's life, at which we meet with well-authenticated facts; with accounts of his extraordinary influence over the lower animals, subscribed to by three burgomasters of Rotterdam, and, therefore, documents pure and speckless as Runjeet Singh's large diamond.

It was the good fortune of little Diedrich to have a godfather, who was fully impressed with a sense of the child's abilities; for at the Amsterdam fair he purchased a very splendid coral, hung round with twelve bells, in little fancy oranges-a delicate compliment on the part of the goldsmith to the house of Nassau-silver gilt, all toned according to harmonic principles, the benevolent object of the sponsor being that his godchild should cut his teeth to the accompaniment of the very sweetest music. The coral was hung about the baby's waste, and a pretty rattling and ringing he kept up, laughing and crying, and cooing, and teething all the while as if nothing was the matter. Diedrich was ten months old, when his father, who, in sooth, was never happy when the child was from his arms, took his baby with him into the cellars: for even in Holland, where British brandy is not, there are certain mysteries to be performed in vaults, which probably it is wisdom in those who love cellarcomforts not too curiously to inquire into. There was the child, crawling upon the ground, ringing his coral, squalling, crying, laughing; our host, Van Amburgh, now chirping to his last-born, now singing a snatch of a Dutch melody, and now swearing affectionately through his teeth at some playful transgression of the pretty babe. At this moment, Kidneyvat, the burgomaster of Rotterdam, alighted-if we may use such a word for so huge a man-at the door of the White Hart, and instantly there was a loud calling through the house for Mynheer Van Amburgh. Our host rushed from the cellar, strange to say, forgetful of the child, in his precipitancy to do all honour to a Rotterdam burgomaster; who on some official business, the object of which we have failed to discover, took the landlord from his house, keeping him until the late hour of ten at night from the hearthstone of the White Hart. He had left the house about three hours, when suddenly there arose a yell throughout the hostelry for the child. Every place was searched but the right one; night drew on, and, oh! the horror, the consternation, that reigned throughout the White Hart. Happily, however, the host returned to his house at seven minutes to ten, and the sternness of history refuses to conceal the fact, very drunk indeed was he, even for a Dutchman. His wife but we refuse to describe as we might, the affecting picture of maternal love; it is enough to say, that the words, "The child, Diedrich, darling, angel, innocent, lost one," poured from the lips of the landlady, tears dropping from her eyes, as she accosted her spirituous husband, somewhat staggered by her uneasiness, and a little moved by the burgomaster's cheer. "Where-where's the child?" exclaimed Vrow Van Amburgh: when Diedrich, after the confusion of a moment, looked very wise, and whilst a smile broke over his broad face, making it shine like a tub of butter in the sun, he softly grunted forth," The cellar!", At the words a shriek burst from the assembled household.

cellar!" And instantly armies of rats, every rat as big as any hare, galloped through the affrighted imaginations of the servants for the Vrow Van Amburgh fainted dead as stone-"The cellar !" No man, woman, or child stirred a foot; every soul seemed petrified with horror; stood as though motion was useless, the child having, of course, been shared in little pieces among the ravenous vermin-swallowed in small bits, flesh and bones, cap and bib and tucker. Rats had been seen in that most rat-frequent cellar, big as moderate-sized dogs; they had, one hard winter, shown considerable disposition to attack Van Amburgh himself; taking, by the way, a shameful advantage of his having, contrary to his usual custom, entered their domain without a stick. Was it then to be thought of-came it within the wildest dreams of hope, to imagine the dear little innocent, Diedrich safe? No; the lovely little one was dead, and though buried, was carried about the cellar in mince-meat, entombed in the bowels of the pitiless rats.

No man stirring towards the cellar, the host himself proposed to descend, when he was followed by all the guests and the servants-for the Vrow Van Amburgh remained insensible-to the death-place of "dear little Diedrich." The cellar was exactly thirty feet six inches-(we mean, of course, English measure) below the street; and was approached by a narrow, winding staircase, which admitted, and that with some difficulty on the part of the experimentalist, only one Dutchman to ascend and descend at a time; seven servant-girls, of irreproachable character, had left the White Hart, simply because they were found of too luxuriant a figure (Venuses run large in the Netherlands) for the narrow capacity of that cellar-staircase.

Mynheer Van Amburgh descended first; his opposite neighbour, the cooper, a man of unblemished veracity, followed; and, as we have already stated, a long train of the affrighted and the curious descended one by one; and not a word was spoken-not, save now and then a sigh, a sound was heard. Hence, the party, when within some ten feet of the cellar, heard to their astonishment and deep delight, the musical ringing of little Diedrich's coral bells;-and more, they heard his dear sweet little voice cooing away, and laughing, and in the innocency of its little heart, trying to hum a tune to the dulcet accompaniment of mellow silver. Every man and woman paused, and exclaimed a short thanksgiving as the bells still rang.

"Let's see what the younker's about," said the father; and, as cautiously as his condition permitted him, entered his spacious cellar, which was speedily thronged by his followers. They looked around, and though they saw a faint glimmering of a light, for the host had left his lamp in the cellar-(fortunately the babe was dressed in woollen)→→→ though they heard the bells and the voice of the baby, they could not immediately discover where the infant was. At length, the father led the party through a long lane of Hollands tubs, and there, in a corner, to the wonder and admiration of the spectators, they beheld-what?— Little Diedrich Van Amburgh seated-how the child got there was not the least wonder-on the head of a gin-tub, shaking his silver-gilt coral, and nodding his head, and conceitedly trying to snap his little, thick, turnip-radish fingers,-and, in a word, by intuition of course, delightfully imitating the graceful airs of great composers, who flourish their glittering batons de mesure to the gratification of an audience,

and the perfect unconcern of an orchestra! There he was, shaking his coral bells; but, reader, we have not yet told you to whom; in a word, then, to no less than a hundred and fifty rats, for the cooper counted them; the least of them as big as terriers, dancing and caracoling, and, at the voice of the baby, running up the gin-tub, and licking his face, and subjectedly, as if in token of homage, rubbing their noses against his toes.

It would be a waste of time and paper to attempt to describe the astonishment of the beholders; let the reader imagine himself in the cellar of the White Hart, at the interesting juncture whereof we write, and consider what would have been his measure of surprise. The feat of Diedrich made even Dutchmen marvel. They were silent in their astonishment; yea, their tongues were like bits of ice in their mouths, from sheer wonder. A greater wonder, however, almost immediately thawed them.

They had gazed in dumb abstraction at the gambols of the rats--at the subjection of the vermin to the voice, looks, and gestures of the infant pacificator; but when, at certain inarticulate words uttered by Diedrich, six of the largest rats ran up the tub, and two, standing on their hind legs, rested their fore-paws upon each of his shoulders, when a third rat sat, as in the act of begging, on the crown of his head, two other rats crouched upon his knees, and a sixth rat, taking his tail in his mouth, hung like a necklace round the throat of their baby dominator,-when the Dutchmen beheld this-no more, in fact, than an adumbration of the future group of lions and tigers-when the Hollanders beheld this, they did shout!

It was extraordinary, however, and certainly, the strongest evidence of the mysterious influence of young Van Amburgh over the hearts and minds of the vermin, that though several gin-tubs jumped from their. bottoms-the motion caused by the vibration of the Dutchmen's shout— the rats never moved a muscle! They looked steadfastly in the faces of the Dutchmen, and, catching the eye of their nursling master, kept their places.

Fortunately this circumstance is so well attested, the triumph of young Van Amburgh over the ferocity of the rats is so finally established by events subsequent to the scene in the cellar, that all the malignity of envy and Mr. Van Amburgh, who has "robb'd the lion of his heart," cannot despoil the serpent of its poison-cannot shake it! We have talked to people-most respectable persons now dwelling at the Hague-who well remember to have seen young Vau Amburgh, when only four years old, drawn about the village by twelve of his father's rats, in light pigskin harness, attached to a small shelllike vehicle, unfortunately, only seven years since, burnt in a house at Leyden, whither it had been sent for the inspection of the curious.

At four years old-drawn by rats-would young Van Amburgh pass through every corner of the Hague-nay, proceed as far as Scheveling and back; and though many and many a cat sat in the doorways, and licked his lips, as he leered at the plump and whiskered teem of the infant pacificator, yet no cat dared to pounce; for this reason—the eye of Diedrich Van Amburgh was upon him.

To this wonderful organ, be it understood, our hero ascribes all his triumphs in the brute creation. Great conquests have certainly been

made by the same instrument in the higher walks of animal life; but in the inferior parts of the règne animal, Diedrich Van Amburgh is a conqueror unrivalled-the Hannibal of hyenas-the Cæsar of leopards -the Napoleon of Bengal tigers.

We had almost been guilty of an important omission in this our veracious history; we had wellnigh forgotten to state that the coral of the baby Diedrich is now to be seen in the museum at the Hague, if we mistake not in the case to the left of the wooden chair in which General Chasse sat at the bombardment in the fortress of Antwerp-a relic which the Hollanders are very justly proud of. The coral, by the way, has been despoiled of one of its bells, it is supposed, by a curious Englishman on a visit three years since to the Museum.

To resume our biographical narrative.

Our hero is now four years old, and every day brings with it further evidence of his surpassing genius; he continues to grow the marvel and delight of the good people of the Hague. When at eight years of age, an event occurs which doubles even the enthusiasm of that most enthusiastic race of people, the Dutch; for the pet of the village, Diedrich, was wont to be absent whole days from morn till night from the paternal roof, usually returning very hungry and very wet. Every means were tried to learn the cause of his absence-to discover where he passed so many of his valuable hours, but Diedrich maintained a dogged silence to all queries; or, essayed to laugh them aside by some playful quip or quirk. At length, having pondered on the matter some time, Mynheer Van Amburgh set spies upon the movements of his son; and hence, we are enabled to gladden our readers with one of the strangest recitals, perhaps, ever yet recited.

"The small village called Scheveling" (says an "English Gentleman" who, in 1691, wrote upon the Hague and its adjacent places) "is inhabited chiefly by fishermen, where is a curious hard sandy shore, admirably contrived by nature, for the divertisement of persons of quality, this village is approached from the Hague by "a late made way, cut through vast deep mountains of sand, pavéd through with curious stones, a work fit for the ancient Romans;" and to this village and its "admirably contrived sandy shore," would Diedrich Van Amburgh, when eight years old, daily resort; and thither was he watched by the spies set upon his steps.

Fables have been invented, that may be considered as somewhat bearing upon our narrative; but the circumstance only proved that the fiction was but the "shadow" to the "coming" truth. For instance, the elder Pliny-a gentleman of considerable fancy-informs us that a little boy scraped an acquaintance with a dolphin, and by bribing the fish with a portion of his morning's bread-and-butter, would induce it to carry him on his back to school, from Baie to Puteoli, and from Puteoli to Bain. The boy, catching the measles, died; "when," says Pliny, "the dolphin pined and died, and was buried in the same grave with his little playmate!" "These be truths!" The younger Pliny, trumping the card of the elder, tells a story of a dolphin," at Hippo in Africa," who, meeting a boy swimming wide from his companions, dived under him, took him on its back, and bundled off with its affrighted burden, into the " open sea;" when, having swum a league or two, the dolphin tacked, made for land, and carefully deposited the child