# Things Seen in Holland/Chapter II

CHAPTER II
LIFE IN TOWN AND COUNTRY
GENERALISATION is impossible as regards “life” in Holland. There is a wide difference to be found in the habits of residents in the big cities, the provincial towns, and the villages. The Hague dines at eight, Amsterdam at seven, Utrecht at six, and Edam at three o'clock. With regard to mercantile or professional pursuits the custom varies, unless one considers the habitués of the Beurs, or Exchange. Twelve or fourteen hours oftentimes constitute the Hollander's working time. Very frequently ​does the merchant or the lawyer have his office in his residence, and so it is hard to say when he leaves off the work which he has begun at an early hour. The Dutchman is systematic and methodical in the ways of his life, and day after day, previous to joining his family at the board, he will proceed to his favourite café or societeit (club), and prepare for the enjoyment of his meal with the absorption of some favourite “appetizer”; but in Holland, as with ourselves, the habit of “taking something before dinner” is dying out, and so is that of wine-drinking when ladies pay an afternoon call. In fact, the afternoon tea has swept all before it, and Dutch ladies now very seldom partake of advocaat, a kind of egg-nog once greatly in vogue at feminine gatherings.
ZAANDAM, NEAR AMSTERDAM.
A quiet, well-shaded street, many of which are to be met with in Holland. In this village the hut in which Peter the Great dwelt whilst learning ship-building still stands.
​actually handed the stuiver back to me. I inquired the reason for this strange action of his grandfather—for so he turned out to be—and was told that the child preferred a “smoke.” I gave him his sigaar, which he lit as carefully as would an older and more experienced smoker, after which he proceeded to enjoy it with beaming countenance. Smoking is probably a protection against malarial diseases likely to be engendered by the canals. If so, this applies to men only, for the women eschew the use of tobacco. Tobacco is cheap in Holland, and an excellent cigar is to be had for three Dutch cents, or a fraction over a halfpenny. To purchase anything more expensive is to brand oneself a foreigner. On one occasion I entered the shop of a tabaksverkooper (tobacconist) in a little place on the Lek, and asked for a five-cent cigar. “You will find the ​three-cent ones quite good enough. Wethouder Hendrik never smokes more expensive ones.” I could but follow in the steps of this worthy municipal councillor.
The Hollander may truly be said to “smoke like a chimney.” It is no uncommon thing to see a priest standing outside the church enjoying his matutinal cigar while the congregation is slowly filing in, only to throw it away at the very last moment, when the time comes for him to don his vestments. Dutch smokers are worthy successors to the late Heer van Klaes, of Rotterdam, who was actually enjoying his pipe when he died at the ripe old age of ninety-eight years, and whose story is told by De Amicis. Every day he smoked nearly five ounces of tobacco, and in his will he issued the following invitation to all lovers of the fragrant weed:
​“I wish every smoker in the kingdom to be invited to my funeral in every way possible—by letter, circular, and advertisement. Every smoker who takes advantage of the invitation shall receive as a present ten pounds of tobacco and two pipes, on which shall be engraved my name, my crest, and the date of my death. The poor of the neighbourhood who accompany my bier shall receive every year, on the anniversary of my death, a large package of tobacco. I make the conditions that all those who assist at my funeral, if they wish to partake of the benefits of my will, must smoke without interruption during the entire ceremony. My body shall be placed in a coffin lined throughout with the wood of my old Havana cigar-boxes. At the foot of the coffin shall be placed a box of the French tobacco called caporal and a package of our old Dutch tobacco. ​At my side place my favourite pipe and a box of matches, … for one never knows what may happen. When the bier rests in the vault, all the persons in the funeral procession are requested to cast upon it the ashes of their pipes, as they pass it on their departure from the grounds.” His last wishes were carried out; but, strange to say, Rotterdam—nay, Holland—has not erected any monument to him. Still, many a Dutch rooker (smoker) must have blessed his memory.
A DUTCH MILKMAN.
He is taking milk in his dogcart to Edam.
​Veal is largely consumed, but not mutton, except in the form of lamb cutlets. Restaurants and cafés there are in profusion in all large towns, but what they give their patrons is exactly what we get in other capitals under the misnomer of “French cookery.” The restaurant has everywhere a powerful rival in the melk-salons or melkinrichtingen, where milk, coffee, chocolate, eggs, sandwiches, and cakes are served. They are cheap and excellent places to frequent at luncheon-time. The cafés are remarkable owing to an arrangement unknown elsewhere—they are divided into two parts by a sombre-hued curtain. The part of the café fronting the street is not lit up when darkness sets in; the customers sit there quietly engaged in conversation or in meditation—the Dutchman thinks a good deal—gazing the while at the passers-by in the street. On ​the other side of the curtain there is a blaze of light, and the habitués engage in a game of billiards, and play cards or dominoes. The quieter ones read the evening newspapers, and there is a loud hum of conversation. It is not customary to enter the back room through the front one, but by a side-door. Shortly after four o'clock begins the bitteruur, or the "hour for bitters," the favourite “appetizers” being oude klare, pure or “neat” old gin, catz, boonekamp, curaçoa, pomerans, oranjebitter, half om half, and vermouth. Absinthe, fortunately for a short while only, made an insidious attempt to be admitted into the ranks of “appetizers,” but it met with little encouragement in its endeavours, and finally the Government prohibited the importation of the maddening intoxicant.
Drunkenness, of course, exists in Holland, as elsewhere, but even at kermis time it is ​very rare to see a woman, even of the lowest class, any the worse for liquor. The wife or the fiancée will during that boisterously festive period, when the men drink deep, watch with eager solicitude over her “man,” and see him safely to his home; but she will resent the interference of the brass-helmeted gerechtsdienaar, and will not suffer her ward to be arrested, for she is an expert at steering him home, tack as he may across the street, and her assertion that she can manage him is no mere boast. The common people put sugar in their drinks, whether gin, beer, or brandy.
AT THE HAGUE.
View of a typical aristocratic mansion. The Hague is a beautiful city with wide streets and well-shaded avenues.
​cheese-sandwiches, which seem to constitute the national appeaser of hunger.
Club-life, in the shape of societeiten, flourishes in the Netherlands, the smallest towns boasting of one or more of these social circles. Foremost among them is De Witte, at The Hague. It is second to none in Europe as regards high standing and comfort, and has a membership of fifteen hundred, drawn from the élite of officialdom. The club's premises are sumptuously furnished and decorated; it has strong French proclivities (French is a popular language in Holland), and welcomes and entertains its guests with courteous and cordial hospitality. In this respect the club is not an exception, for throughout Holland the stranger who has been properly introduced, or who knows how to ingratiate himself with the people, is sure to be treated with extreme kindness. It may ​even fall to the luck of a traveller to be taken up by some prominent citizen, who, noticing that he is particularly interested in some one thing, will come up, politely tender him his assistance, and place at his disposal whatever information he may possess on the subject absorbing the stranger. From that there is but one step to being done the honours of your newly-found friend's house. This will not take place all at once, for the Dutchman is observant, cautious, and of an inquiring turn of mind. He will first have found out something about you, but when once he has opened his door to you, thereafter you will always find it on the latch. Most proud is he to supply you with facts, for what he dreads—he is very sensitive and very proud of his country—is that erroneous statements may be spread abroad about it. Should ladies accompany you, they are ​always presented with the freedom of the kitchen, which in private residences is as neat, as picturesque, and as fresh-looking as the toy-kitchens which are the delight of children. And a Dutch kitchen is the ideal of what a kitchen ought to be, for all is therein in its place, all is bright and clean, and the shining saucepans complete with the blue-and-white chinaware a perfect interior.
Cleanliness (netheid or zindelijkheid) is a ruling passion of the Dutch vrouw or meisje, and polishing, scrubbing, rubbing, and sluicing are unceasingly carried on with a continuity and thoroughness unknown elsewhere. The outside paintwork, the windows, even the brick pavement, are all the subject of sedulous attention; and rain does not stop the Dutch maid from her outdoor work, which she will engage in while holding an umbrella over her head. ​Indoors the disease—for disease it amounts to—prevails, and from cellar to garret everything presents a spick-and-span appearance. But the reverse of this pretty picture is to be seen in many localities, where the women would seem to be too busily engaged in scouring pots and pans to give much attention to personal cleanliness or to that of their children. In this connection tourists must not be deceived into believing that Broek en Waterland is the “cleanest place in Holland.” It shares with the Island of Marken the reputation of being nothing more than a “show-place.” Both places are to be avoided, for they are not representative of Holland. Tourists have perhaps themselves to blame for the gross rudeness they experience at Marken.
THE BINNENHOF.
Round which cluster the most ancient associations of Holland.
​Amsterdam, delights, towards his declining days, in retiring to a country villa, and there enjoying absolute rest from his labours. Arnhem is the favourite camping-ground of retired Dutch East Indian nabobs. The names of these buitenplaatsen are characteristic of the national temperament. Among many are: Weltevreden (quite content); Veldlust (rustic enjoyment); Welgelegen (well-laid-out site); Buitensorg (sans-souci, or free from care); Door geluk (through luck); Vroeg op wint tyd (Who rises early, finds time); Komt, gaat in vrede (Come, and go in peace); Het Loo (the grove or wood); Lust in rust (pleasure in repose). And in most places there is the warning, Wacht U voor den hond! (Beware of the dog!). Happy hours are spent in these cosy retreats, and Dutch home life is there seen at its best—simple after having been strenuous.
​But the dog in Holland is not used merely for the purpose of keeping tramps at a distance; he is employed throughout the country to draw loads that are sometimes none too light, and the Dutch dog's labours have doubtless given rise to the saying, “To work like a dog.”