Читать книгу The Further Adventures of O'Neill in Holland - J. Irwin Brown - Страница 4

Table of Contents

There was something good on every page, as might be expected from the very preface. And, withal, there was a steady process of boasting about its own merits that was most refreshing in the barren realm of grammar.

With mock modesty it dubbed itself on the title page, “The Compendious Guide,” and followed this up with another title “Korte Wegwijzer tot de nederduitsche taal.” The whole compilation was evidently the work of several generations of literary gentlemen, who aimed at the ‘Polish of the Civilized Lady’ in quite different ways, but whose united efforts certainly made ‘The Work’ remarkably incoherent.

POLITE DIALOGUES.

We all quizzed O’Neill unmercifully about the Civilized Lady, and read some dialogues with immense satisfaction. So uproarious, indeed, did the fun become at last, that our neighbours on the stair came trooping in. Three of them were Cape-students, hard-working medicals, whom we never heard speaking Dutch, though we were well aware they must have known it. Like the others, they insisted on a full explanation of the tumult, and we showed them “Boyton”. They didn’t mind so much about the Civilized Lady; but when they turned to the Polite Dialogues at the end, a kind of shudder seemed to pass through them, as if they had got an electric shock—till finally they dropped the book and screamed with delight.

“Why! that’s nothing so very odd”, said O’Neill, looking hurt. “I have often used lots of those phrases.” Picking up the dishevelled leaves from the floor, he ran his eye down a page or two and said: “Yes, of course. These things are all right: A bit stiff and bookish, perhaps; but correct, quite correct. You fellows needn’t be so excited over nothing.”

“Read us some!” clamoured the men from the Cape. “Read us some of the dialogues you imitated. Go on! Read!”

HOW TO BUY A CASTOR.

“Oh!” said O’Neill, “almost any one of these conversations about common things is good enough. Here, for instance.” And he took the book in his hand and walked about the room, giving us first the English—then the Dutch.

“TOUCHING BUYING AND SELLING.	WEGENS KOOPEN EN VERKOOPEN.
Have you any fine hats?	Hebt gij mooije hoeden?
This is one of the finest in the Country.	Daar is een van de fraaiste in ’t land.
Yes, Sir; this is a dreadfully nice one.	Ja, hoedemaker; deze tenminste is ijsselijk mooi.
Just come close to the fire, Sir; and examine that hat narrowly.	Eilieve! kruip bij het vuur, mijnheer; en bezie dien hoed eens wel.”

“That conversation,” said the Professor, “must have been of immense help to you now in modern Holland?”

“Hm”—replied Jack doubtfully.

“O’Neill,” said I; “Stop! You’re making that out of your head. That stuff’s never in any book.”

NOT MURDERED?

“Well,” was the hasty reply; “I see this isn’t so good as some parts—not so practical, perhaps; but that’s all here. Wait a bit. … Now listen. Here’s something better. Hush!”

“BETWEEN TWO ENGLISH GENTLEMEN.	TUSSCHEN TWEE ENGELSCHE HEEREN.
My dear Friend, I am extremely happy to see you.	Waarde Vriend! ik ben ten uiterste verheugd u te zien (bezigtigen, of a house).
It has been reported for a certainty that you were taken by the Turks and murdered halfway between Leghorn and Civita Vecchia.	Men heeft voor de waarheid verteld (als eene zekerheid verhaald) dat gij van de Turken genomen waart en gemoord halfwege tusschen Livorno en Civita Vecchia.
But these atrocities did not befall me!	Maar deze gruwelen zijn mij niet gebeurd!
You are convinced it is not true?	Gij zijt overtuigd dat zulks onwaar is?
I am.	Gewisselijk.
I rejoice that you are restored.	Ik verheug mij dat gij heelemaal hersteld zijt geweest (of a building: geheel en al gerestaureerd geworden).”

GIJ ZIJT GERESTAUREERD.

There was a noise in the room at this, but O’Neill went on boldly to finish the Dialogue.

“Are you speaking in jest?	Gekt gij ermede?
I do not jest.	Ik gek er niet mede.”

“That’s enough—quite enough—for the present”, said the Cape men. “We’ll borrow the Wegwijzer from you, and bring it back safe.

“No, there’s no fear we’ll mislay it, or harm it. Much too valuable for that. But—you’ll excuse us; we can hardly believe you’ve got that actually in print. And we’re curious to know what kind of rules those learned grammarians give. You’ll lend us this mine of wisdom for a few days, won’t you? Thank you, so much.

THE ENGERT.

“And by the way, here are some of your own notes. What’s this about engert?”

“Oh”, said O’Neill; “that’s a reminder about a neat phrase I picked up from my landlady. Did I never tell you?

“Well. When my cousin came over, you know, on his way to Germany, he stayed with me a couple of days. He’s very athletic—a fine wiry, muscular young fellow, lithe as a willow, as you are aware. So I wasn’t astonished at overhearing the landlady and a crony of hers discussing him. They used a rumble of unintelligible words about Terence, as he passed the two of them on the stairs with the slightest of nods, and mounted three steps at a time, whistling as he went. There was no mistake about their referring to him; and amid the chaos of sounds I caught the words eng and engert.

Curious to know how Terence’s agility, or perhaps his swarthy complexion, had affected them, I turned up these terms of admiration in my dictionary; and found eng, ‘thin’, ‘narrow’. The longer word wasn’t there. But on the whole it seemed safe to conclude from eng meaning ‘narrow’, that engert would work out something like “fine strapping fellow and in excellent training”. If that was it, my landlady had hit the nail on the head. For Terence had just been carrying all before him at the last Trinity sports.

Her admiring criticism I duly entered in my notes and kept for use.

Some days after Terence had left, the landlady was praising her son’s cleverness to me; and to please her I just said that he was a wonderful boy. ‘Mirakel van een jongen’ was the expression I employed; and I was quite proud of it. But she didn’t seem appreciative of my effort, so I fell back on her own idiom. Fortunately the lad was quite slender, and I could dwell with satisfaction on the suitability of my new word.

“Hij is zoo eng”, I said. “Ja juffrouw hij is een engert!—een echte engert!!”

She received my encomium on her boy with speechless indignation, and rose and left the room. You can’t be too careful”, added O’Neill thoughtfully.

BETAALD ZETTEN.

“Jack,” said one of the students. “I prefer your own notes even to Boyton. Haven’t you some more? Ah, what’s this?” he enquired, turning to some pencillings inside the back. “Dat zou je wel willen”, he read aloud, “ ‘signification doubtful!’

“And here’s one marked ‘commercial’: ‘We’ll consider the transaction as settled’: Dutch apparently something like, ‘Dat zal ik u betaald zetten’. Here’s another labelled, ‘not deftig, but very popular’: ‘Ben je niet goed snik?’ Translation seems to be: ‘you’re not quite able to follow my meaning.’

“Ah! No more? That’s a pity.”

“Oh I have plenty more,” interposed O’Neill; “but not here. And you want to read this Boyton volume.”

GEKT GIJ ER MEDE?

“Let me finish the ‘Dialogue between English gentlemen’, and you may have The Work.

The first Englishman says: “Ik bid U, mijnheer; laat mij geene onheusheid begaan.”

Then the other, the man who had been so disappointed that his friend wasn’t murdered, answers politely: “Ik weet zeer wel welke eerbied ik U schuldig ben.”

Up to this moment the two acquaintances seemed to have got on fairly well together in spite of some difficulties. Why two Englishmen when they met in Paris about the year of grace 1805 should plunge into a complimentary dialogue in Dutch, is not very clear. But that there was a lurking feeling of antagonism in the gossip’s mind towards his compatriot, seems to be shown by the remark that he now makes to wind up the dialogue.

DUIZENDMAAL VERSCHOONING, MEJUFFROUW!

“Mejuffrouw (!) ik bid U duizendmaal om verschooning, indien ik heden eenige onheusheid omtrent U bega.”

That was final. The returned traveller hasn’t a word for himself, after he is called ‘mejuffrouw.’

“Mind you, gentlemen,” continued O’Neill, holding Boyton aloft like a trophy, “if I did try to stop too prolonged conversations in that gracefully irrelevant fashion, I had caught the trick of it from Brandnetel himself. You have only to go on heaping civilities on your wearisome talker’s head, but take care to call him, just once, Mejuffrouw, and he’ll have to go. It’s a neat way of saying Good-bye. I never found the method to fail.

Some day I’ll tell you how supremely effective I found that unexpected little turn.

Why it’s nearly as good as Zanik nouw niet.”