HOLLAND: As I Thought It Was, and As I Found It

New Zealand Listener, Volume 11, Issue 276, 6 October 1944, Page 10

HOLLAND: As I Thought It Was, and As I Found It

Extracts From The Diary of W Newc Zealander in The Hague Dne Easter

HAD thought of Holland as a country absolutely bare, boasting scarce a tree. The Hague and its environs I find to be all trees-woods full of trees, and roads lined with great avenues. And in the woods the’ ground is carpeted with anemones, which you are forbidden to pluck. "Verboden" greets your eyes at every turn. Ann (my host’s daughter) telis me that "the lower classes" used to’ run amuck with the anemones-hence the restriction. But in the tramcar yesterday I saw a most delightful notice- none of your "verbodens": "A good inhabitant of The Hague would not cough without putting his hand in front of his mouth." Who would not rise to that? Ba Ea * WE walked home through "The Wood." It must be glorious when the trees are in leaf, and the cafes open. Everywhere there are artificial ponds. When we reached the main road from Haarlem, Amsterdam and Leyden, we met a continuous stream of people returning from the bulb fields: mostly cyclists — daffodils in their hats, great chains of them round their necks and twisted crosswise over their fronts, and even the spokes of their wheels a golden glory. Ann tells me it is mostly "the lower classes" who do this! When we went for a walk at night, still the same endless-stream. I picked up five little hyacinth flowers-they smell just like a New Zealand clover-field. ms ns bg IN Monday afternoon we motored to the bulb fields. It was rather earlythe flowers were not fully out, though often we saw huge patchworks of vivid hyacinths. I was not impressed-it is a thing you can read of as pleasurably as see; there are no subtle nuances that reality can give; the fields just lie bald im the sunshine. The occasional squares of red tulips were very beautifulricher than poppies, even. There were great fields of daffodils, but they had no charm of novelty-I have seen such a Blaze from a turnip or mustard field in England. * * * WE have spent all day in Delft. I still feel unsatisfied. A deep conviction grows in me that Holland is a place to read of, rather than to see, It is so full of hideous modern houses. And Delft has no old-world quiet: it is noisy with its cobbles and everlasting cycles. And the canajs are often a_ lingering scum of refuse.’ We went to Delft by tram from The augue, Once I saw a glorious picture on the canal alongside: a great black barge with a salmon-coloured band round it, piled high with golden straw, the wind filling its great brown sail, In the Old Church we saw the tombs of Piet Hein, Van Tromp and Elisabeth _ Marnix, whose inscription says: "There

is virtue enough in having pleased one husband." In the Prinzenhof we saw the very spot where William the Silent fell. I was peering round the archway behind to imagine where Gerard stood, when the caretaker’s wife shut the doors and made a remark (as Ann translated for me) about not being too curious! There were two fine long, low-raftered rooms full of historic treasures. It was joy to stand at one end and see the sun fall through the open window on the old blue Delft plates. The Rijka Museum is an aesthetic treat: a house of the Renaissance period, which is left as if people were living in it — majestic sombre rooms with ponderous dark brown furniture. Other rooms have the

walls lined with old Delft tiles-every-where the glorious blue. % % HIS morning I visited the Gevangenpoort (old prison). There were about 20 Dutch people with me. As the guide took us round, he first delivered himself in Dutch; then, turning to me, in English — whereupon, all the Dutch eyes were fastened on me. This was so embarrassing as almost to prevent my absorbing anything. I had no feeling of horror-no realisation came to me as I looked at the thumbscrew and the rack; the place where the water fell drop by drop on the prisoner’s head; the iron thing on which the prisoner had to walk bare-foot. But realisation comes to me now as I think of those ghastly fantastic drawings in blood on the prison wall. What terrible mirth! I think that a great bonfire should be made in Europe of all these hellish devices that we have hoarded from the past. These Dutch should have another bad fit of "breaking," but instead of Images, this vile lumber. ; * * * WAKEN confusedly in the mornings. Then I realise where I am, I, obscure citizen of New Zealand, am in The Hague, Holland. ‘ ~ How altogether simple, and how altogether erroneous was my idea of Holland! A rather primitive structure, named "dyke," running the whole length of the coast; behind it nothing but flat green meadows, with canals and windmills, and black and white cows; there was, of course, an octasional old-world town, its canals lined with strange craft; that was my picture. I had not reckoned with this modern Hague, full of modern, (continued on next page)

(continued from previous page) wealthy, rather inartistic people, who ride in luxurious German motor-cars. But The Hague isga fine residential place, with wooded parks and wooded avenues wherever you go. Yesterday afternoon we walked through Scheveningen Wood to the Palace of Peace, behind which we saw a beautiful little monument to the Maris brothers-the artists. Beneath the two bronze heads sits a female figure, whose pencil has just finished the words: "Artists worthy of the country of Rembrandt." * ee * MSTERDAM yesterday. Now I’ve seen something worth coming to Holland for. We set out in the car at 7.30, and the morning was perfect. The meadows were filmed with dew, and the windmills formed shadowy silhouettes. I caught one exquisite bulb picture: a long rectangle of bright patchwork, in which purple predominated, had a windmill immediately behind it, as if placed there for a picture post-card. I saw a tall, tall pole with a sort of basket at the top-for a stork to build its nest in. We reached Amsterdam at _ nine. Everywhere maid-servants were beating carpets at open windows or on the streets. The wear and tear on the carpets must be tremendous, ‘ I fell in love with Amsterdam at once: I could never take my fill of gazing at the tall brown and yellow sloping houses that exhibit every variety of quaint gable. The Palace of the Queen that fronts the "dam" is very fine, something in the style of Versailles. The guide showed us the "Eighth Wonder of the World"’-the largest room in the world without pillars-a lofty ballroom, with a mighty figure of Atlas over the doorway. We visited the Rijks Museum, and sat in the room that contains nothing but Rembrandt’s "Night-Watch." We had barely a peep at the Jews’ Quarter, and then had to hurry back to the garage. We came home by Haarlem Mere, which was once the great sheet of water on which the Dutch and Spaniards fought. For miles and miles and miles we followed an absolutely straight road (I had not known such straightness before), with the straight canal always on our left, and the church spires on the horizon. The villages we passed through were (continued on next page)

HOLLAND

(continued from previous page) very ugly. The beautiful effects the Dutch achieve are largely through age and chance. % * * BESIDE the suburban station here is an exquisite Dutch picture: a bright green meadow dotted with buttercups and daisies, in which black and white cattle are feeding; in the background a farmhouse almost hidden by feathery trees; and behind that the dunes meeting the sky.. There is a look about the dunes and the blue sky that makes you smell the sea beyond. * % Fa ESTERDAY I went to Marken, the island in the Zuyder Zee. I fraternised with a little Parisian, and we explored together. We were met on landing by a young married girl, who took us to her mother’s, where we dressed in Marken costumes, and photographed each other. Then, still in costume, we walked through the village to her home, where she tried to persuade us to buy old (?) Delft and copper at an exorbitant price. We returned to the mother’s and had tea, boiled eggs, and bread and butter — a special sweet bread, made only on Sundays. The life of the island was repulsive to fe. Their costumes, though quaint, are crude in colour. The little rooms they so proudly show to tourists are grossly vulgar — the walis stuffed with plates and cheap pictures and tawdry little productions of their needles. I came away with a feeling of nausea, and knew the luxury of high civilisation as I washed from my basin where the water almost refused to ooze away. Afterwards, Mlle. and I compared notes about the Dutch. We agreed that they are economical in food, and in water for washing. I couldn’t help © smiling to myself: the French call the Dutch economical; the English call the French economical; and the Colonials call the English economical! * * * VISITED Rotterdam yesterday afternoon, For once, reality was grander than forethought. I have always heard Rotterdam spoken of disparagingly as a place to visit. I imagined a pyny portnot this great busy monster. Boats everywhere-on the busy Maas; and on the canals that are choked with them, great flat barges on which children and dogs play, and washing dries in the sun. You can‘find sharp contrasts in Rotterdam: leaving the busy traffic, you suddenly find yourself by the side of a great _ meadow, where sheep are feeding, and you look on Rotterdam from the outside; or you can peer behind the imposing new Town Hall.and find slums there -tall old picturesque houses and’ old canals. I found the Groote Kerk in this old part. The young policeman whom I asked to direct me to it did not at first understand me, owing to my total lack of guttural. I had to produce a postcard and show him the spire. Then he blushed crimson at his lack of perception in the first place. Coming home in the train, I saw a most glorious sunset: the sky was like a mighty fan-all the long clouds converging to the golden centre. The earth was a mighty plein of mirrors to hold the gold, and the quiet cattle, and the quiet willows. In that bright glare, everything was diminished: the windmills were pairs of rabbits with sharp, pointed ears, and the cattle were the stiff little figures from a Noah’s Ark.

E.

M.