per shining like the sun; but of its life proper
the gracht has given no sign. Its true life is houseridden, behind
those spotless and very beautiful lace curtains, and there it remains.

One of the wittiest of the old writers on Holland (of whom I said
something in the second chapter), Owen Feltham the moralist, describes
in his _Brief Character of the Low Countries_ an Amsterdam house of
the middle of the seventeenth century. Thus:--

When you are entered the house, the first thing you encounter is a
Looking-glasse. No question but a true Embleme of politick hospitality;
for though it reflect yourself in your own figure, 'tis yet no longer
than while you are there before it. When you are gone once, it flatters
the next commer, without the least remembrance that you ere were there.

The next are the vessels of the house marshalled about the room like
watchmen. All as neat as if you were in a Citizen's Wife's Cabinet;
for unless it be themselves, they let none of God's creatures lose
any thing of their native beauty.

Their houses, especially in their Cities, are the best eye-beauties
of their Country. For cost and sight they far exceed our English,
but they want their magnificence. Their lining is yet more rich
than their outside; not in hangings, but pictures, which even the
poorest are there furnisht with. Not a cobler but has his toyes for
ornament. Were the knacks of all their houses set together, there
would not be such another _Bartholmew_-Faire in _Europe_....

Their beds are no other than land-cabines, high enough to need a ladder
or stairs. Up once, you are walled in with Wainscot, and that is good
discretion to avoid the trouble of making your will every night;
for once falling out else would break your neck perfectly. But if
you die in it, this comfort you shall leave your friends, that you
dy'd in clean linnen.

Whatsoever their estates be, their houses must be fair. Therefore from
_Amsterdam_ they have banisht seacoale, lest it soyl their buildings,
of which the statelier sort are sometimes sententious, and in the
front carry some conceit of the Owner. As to give you a taste in these.

Christus Adjutor Meus;
Hoc abdicato Perenne Quero;
Hic Medio tuitus Itur.

Every door seems studded with Diamonds. The nails and hinges hold a
constant brightnesse, as if rust there was not a quality incident to
Iron. Their houses they keep cleaner than their bodies; their bodies
than their souls. G