CHAPTER XI.
The house in which I lodged in Leyden was once the dwelling of Jan Steen, the great Jan Steen, whom I regard as being as great as Raphael.[1] And he was even his equal as a religious painter. That will be clearly seen when the religion of pain and suffering shall have ended, and the religion of joy tear the mournful veil from the rose-bushes of this earth, and the nightingales at
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"Und dus exglaim der Breitmann
In wonder-solemn shdrain,
De cratest men vere Brauwer,
Van Ostadé und Jan Steen.
Der Raffael' vas vel enof,
Dot is, in his small way;
Boot, Gott in Himmel! vot vos he
Compared mit soosh as dey!
"De more ve digs indo de dirt,
Or less ve seeks a star,
De nearer ve to Natur' coom,
More pantheistisch far.
To him who reads dis mystery right,
Mit inspiradion gifen,
Der Raffael's rollin' in de dirt,
While Brauwer soars to heaven."
—The Breitmann Ballads.I do not know whether this is an instance of precoincidence, or of the mind's unconsciously retaining and reproducing an image. I suppose it is the latter; but when I wrote these verses I absolutely believed the conception to be original.—Note by Translator.
