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Updated: May 19, 2025
Once upon a time in Zandam, which is by the Zuider Zee, there lived a wicked man named Nicholas Snyders. He was mean and hard and cruel, and loved but one thing in the world, and that was gold. And even that not for its own sake. He loved the power gold gave him the power to tyrannize and to oppress, the power to cause suffering at his will. They said he had no soul, but there they were wrong.
He worked for many years in England, where his best works portraits remain. He was truthful, a good colourist, and finished carefully. His portraits of Lord Bacon at Panshanger and of the Earl and Countess of Arundel at Arundel Castle are well known. Frans Snyders was born in 1579, and died, at Antwerp in 1657. After Rubens, Snyders was the greatest Flemish animal painter.
In these curious old chambers, it was to be expected that I should see some Wohlegemuths as usual, with backgrounds in a blaze of gold, and figures with tortuous limbs, pinched-in waists, and caricatured countenances. In a room, pretty plentifully encumbered with rubbish, I saw a charming Snyders; being a dead stag, suspended from a pole.
"Who are you?" asked Nicholas Snyders, taking no pains to disguise his disappointment. "I am a pedlar," answered the stranger. His voice was clear and not unmusical, with just the suspicion of roguishness behind. "Not wanting anything," answered Nicholas Snyders drily. "Shut the door and be careful of the step."
Their devices for circumventing the antlered monarch of the waste are amply detailed by Scrope, Hawker, Herbert and also by the late Edwin Landseer doing the pictorial department with a success attributable chiefly to his management of landscape effect, for his dogs, deer and other animals from his Æsop's fable-like groups to his four duplicated lions in Trafalgar Square, belong heretic that we are to say it! properly to still life, their want of action and verve placing them beneath comparison with the works of either one of a score of Flemish and French painters, from Rubens and Snyders down to Bonheur and Vernet.
Not a day passed that he did not make ten decisions, one way or another, until one Sunday chance came to his rescue in the form of Willy Snyders and Miss Eva Burns, who had come to Meriden on an excursion.
The front of the room was partially blocked up by a genuine Nuremberg stove with the precious Delft tiles of antique green glaze testifying to the wonderful old potter's art. Willy Snyders had chanced upon the beautiful Renaissance piece in a shop near the wharf, and had succeeded in buying it for Ritter for only one hundred dollars. "Here's a comfortable corner of the Fatherland," said Ritter.
Willy Snyders gave a witty account of the attack of Webster and Forster's agent; and the conversation turned on art in general and on American art in particular. "Millions of dollars annually," said Bonifacius Ritter, "are spent upon all sorts of art objects, an enormous sum on paintings alone.
Jan held out his great hand across the littered desk. "We parted in anger, Nicholas Snyders. It was my fault. You were in the right. I ask you to forgive me. I was poor. It was selfish of me to wish the little maid to share with me my poverty. But now I am no longer poor." "Sit down," responded Nicholas in kindly tone. "I have heard of it.
It was Willy Snyders the kind-hearted who, soon after a chance meeting with his fellow-Silesian, dragged him from his wretched quarters, not without much coaxing, and transferred him to the club-house.
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