A WANDERER’ NOTE BOOK

Dominion, Volume 20, Issue 42, 13 November 1926, Page 24

A WANDERER’ NOTE BOOK

(BY

THE HAGUE TO OSTEND.. The Peaceful Hague. ■' Still anjong the friendly Hollanders, I would vastly like to test the numerous encomiums passed by so many of my newly-made Dutch friends upon places “you really ought to see.” But time is short, and the Dutch “sights” are so many that, alas, but the briefjest of impressions of what I at least 'find an unusually interesting and pleasant foreign country can be obgtained. I shall never forget an all ■ too short visit to The Hague, Holrland’s peaceful political capital, wherein, after passing through the famous bulb fields of Harlem —what a gorgeous sight they must be in the spring I take my first stroll. I loiter along Ithq beautiful tree-lined streets, through the quaintly picturesque Squares, and along the delightful orjnamental waters of The Vijver, of (Which one gets so unforgettable a View from the lime trees of' Vijver‘berg, the fashionable promenade of Gravenhagen’s citizens, winch Pepys, •the diarist, found so charming in the days when that worthy old gossiper (visited Holland, just prior to the trijumphaut return to his native land of 4 that Merry Monarch- of whose dallyfings with the stately Lady Castlebriaine, and the imperious Duchess of .jiiclimond, not to forget that “madcap beauty,” the sprightly Mistress Nell Gwyn, Pepys has given us so ■amusing, if a trifle scandalous, description. A Tidy Town.

Traditionally your Dutchman is a slow-moving, quietly philosophical hu.man biped, who adds to a natural tendency to mild adiposity by an almost studied deliberation. Here at The Hague there is a large population of officialdom, and, so far as I can see, the Dutch Civil servant of these parts does not believ.e in that decided “bustle” so prominent a ‘feature of the Hollander as one meets him in Amsterdam. The Hague is a city of historic buildings. All are beautifully kept. Alike at that superb art gallery, the Maruitshuis; at the more modern, but stately, Stadthuis, or Town Hall, at the Gemeente or Municipal Museum —at which latter there is a collection of old procelain and crystal almost worthy of the great Wallace Collection in dingy Manchester Square in London—or at the Groote Kerk, puritanically typical in its austerity, but with a carved pulpit which is a miracle of ingenious sculpture—everywhere is spotlessly clean. It is the Clean Village of Broek in Waterland grown up into an equally immaculate great city. No one hurries at The Hague, save, at some matutinal hour of the day to “tidy up.” But then there are no “dole” receiving hordes of “starving miners,” and careless trippers io throw old paper, banana skins, and broken bottles about the walks; such have spoiled the natural beauty of certain noblemen’s parks and grounds I have recently visited in England. When the Dutchman's record is overhauled in St. Peter’s books, there will be, at least, no black marks against him op this score.

Some Pictures at The Hague. Just as, at Amsterdam, one cannot cross “The Dam,” or loiter along the busy, : Kalverstraat { before he is beset with offers of guidance to the Rijks Museum and its treasures, the. visitor to The Hague has to face the over-zea-lous importunities of the professional guides who would fain, at; I admit, a modest recompense, escort you round tlie famous Maruitshius. Personally, I dislike being personally conducted round such places, and really, with the

CHARLES WILSON)

(Specially Written for Tag Dominion.]

study of juvenile feminine innocence, a “Girl's Head,” by the mystery-laden Jan Vermeer, and a tiny little canvas by Van Oslade, both of which inevitably Cause me to break the last of the Commandments. One "ould linger in these rooms for many hours and even then miss many artistic beauties. It is the old, old story over again, one cannot see the wood for the trees. 1 The Mesdag Moderns.

No one, too, who loves good pictures, should neglect, at The Hague, to visit the Mesdag Museum, the generous gift of a great Dutch banker, himself no mean painter, and containing an astounding number of masterpieces of modern French art. Corot, Daubigny, Millet, and others of the Barbizon school are richly represented; also the four great modern Dutch painters, the three brothers Maris and Anton Mauve, who painted sheep as surely none other has done There is a- modest sized Corot here, one of Jiis favourite waterwav scenes, with overhanging trees, whose foliage is perfectly exquisite. I know it is heresy rnd high treason to the great Rembrandt's memory, but I would -ather, an I could, “pinch” and carrv this back to far off Wellington than'“The Night Watch” or “The Lesson on Anatomy.” But no more of these covetous day drcams. ELSEWHERE AT THE HAGUE. Round the Hofvijver, or f'courtpond,” are buildings after buildings of no small historical importance, du one side wc have just visited the Maruitshuis. Almost opposite is the outer side of the Binnenhof, or Inner Court. Here are the Parliament Buildings. In Motley’s famous History, you can read of how the Grand Pensionary Barneveldt was done to death in the Binnenhof, and how, in their glootnv old residence at the Gevangenpoort, 01 Prisoners’ Gate, on the Vijver, those two great Dutch statesmen, John de Witt and his brother, were dragged from their house and murdered in the square beneath. And for Dutch history in a palatable form, let me here com mend Miss Marjorie Bowen’s fine novels "I Will Maintain,” "Defender of tin. Faith.” and “God and the King.” Today Miss Bowen has, I believe, turned from Dutch to Italian and English his tory, but in Holland her name is specially honoured She has been granted, a Dutch honornrv title, and is high in the esteem of Holland’s historical societies. That this is as it should be will be seen at once by all who know he’ fine stories and visit these memorv haunted scenes round the historic Vijver. I confess to not having gom round the famous Peace Palace at The Hague. It is a tastefully ornate colos sal edifice, and nearbv a fine avenue ol old elms, which leads from the city to its favourite watering-place, Schevenin gen. before the war annually crowd?-' bv the stout Hun bourgeoisie, and still one of the most nonular of European bathing resorts. But. to tell the truth, since wie awful war of 1914-1918, lib faith in Peace Conferences has declined almost to zero. To Bustling Brussels.

I would fain tarry longer in the peaceful, beautiful capital of Holland .but even the prospect of seeing Queer. Wilhelmina opening a focal flower shots allures me not to further sojourn in lie. fqvonrite' city; and so ~by way ol Delft and Rotterdam, both alas, tin visited, I make wav southwards with Brussels as my first objective Passing Delft, an old ’ world, dignified ci'y, with a big latterday trade in—.die strangest of combinations, oil and yeast

they know how to live, at anyrate in Brussels. It is a good fifty years since I last descended in this hospitable, comfortable town, but owing, to that exchange which both Belgian and Frenchmen denounce with such fervour, I find it almost as cheap a place tn which to spend a day as ever. Thirty francs a night for a most excellent bedroom and three francs for my early breakfast is not much more just now than four shillings. Of course, as in France, everything is “up,” and there is a taxe de sejour—a residence tax-—and other special imposts which are a trifle annoying. Still it is astonishing how far a Treasury note, when converted into francs at 169 to the pound, will go, and I am not surprised that St. Gudule, the ancient square outside the Hotel de Ville, and the giant cafes outside the Northern Station' and along the Boulevard Anspach are thronged with good Britons, whose French is more that of “Stratford-atte-Bowe” than of Belgium, still less that of the land of the Gaiils. But. exchange allowed for, mv fellow Britons must be pouring a very substantial flood of outside money into present-dav Belgium, and eyen at the low rate of exchange, by which the travelling Briton has recently profited so greatlv, "ces braves Beiges” are evidently not doing so very badlv.

Busy Belgium. Brussels, to me at least, seems astoundinglv prosperous. From what I am told, there are practically no unemployed. Whatever it may have been; Belgium of to-day knoweth not the strike. If it has a Mr. A. J. Cook, he keeps his mouth shut, which is immeasurably more than the British exploiter of that empty myth, the “starving” miner, has ever been able to do. Also, Belgium knoweth not that utterly uneconomic and financially and socially idiotic institution, the dole, which, to mv mind, is one of the worst of John Bull’s present-day curses. Everybody has got work to go to in Belgium.’ And he goes to it, whereas in England the majority of. the “poor suffering sons of toil," as so styled by the highly imaginative Mr. Cook, of.miners’ strike fame, seems to be much more concerned about pigeon flying, “knurr and spell,” betting, and kinema haunting, to say nothing of the cigarette ever dangling from his mouth, than worrying his head about getting a job—and sticking to it.

Ghent aitd Bruges. I spend a few hours at Ghent, a