Chapter VI: Part 6

Apeldoorn is a beautiful little city, very much unlike what might be expected of Holland, since its canals are few and its windmills at a premium. Its streets remind one more of those of an English village. Its outskirts and environs are freely sprinkled with attractive country homes and villas belonging to that class of Hollanders that passes its time, for one purpose or another, hovering in the neighborhood of royalty, for near by at Het Loo the Queen is wont to summer. The town’s two parks, named appropriately Oranje and Wilhelmina, present effects in landscape gardening incomparable with those of almost any other parks in Holland, and the broad avenues that lead out to Her Majesty’s palace are barely surpassed in beauty even by the Old Way from The Hague to Scheveningen. Like the spokes of a wheel their shaded roadways stretch straight as a die, with the palace of Het Loo as their common hub.

_Pensions_ and private villas are as thick in and about Apeldoorn as seventeen-year locusts. Each has its velvety lawn; each its variegated flower garden. Apparently the town boasts of everything to make the lives of its summer residents one blissful dream of being some day bidden to dinner or tea at the dazzling white palace at the end of the avenue. I imagine the sanitary arrangements of some of the summer homes of these pseudo patrons of royalty must be primitive in the extreme. This may or may not be a criterion by which to judge the others, but, as I drove by the estate of one of Apeldoorn’s nabobs, a maidservant appeared upon the second-story balcony and emptied the contents of a pocket folding rubber bath tub full upon the lawn in front--anything but a discreet exhibition, to say the least about it.

Het Loo, or The Grove, was the favorite palace of Wilhelmina’s father, William III, and of his grandfather, William I, the first King of the Netherlands. A steam tram operates upon rather uncertain schedule between the railway station at Apeldoorn and Het Loo, but a much more pleasant method of consuming the time, if only between trains, is to drive by carriage out the long avenue, returning through the parks of Apeldoorn.

The peasants of the surrounding country are of purely agricultural proclivities, and their land seems more like real farm land than the lower level portions of the Netherlands. Apeldoorn itself lies in the district known as the Veluwe, a territory between the Yssel and the Zuyder Zee, in places as much as three hundred feet above the level of the ocean and, with few exceptions, the highest in Holland. Parts of it, however, are so sandy and sterile that the ground is available after complete fertilization mainly for the cultivation of tobacco.

Zutphen, a few miles below Apeldoorn, was the first city in the east to offer any speakable resistance against the Spaniards during the war of independence, and there still stands the gateway, called the Nieuwstadtspoort, through which Don Frederic of Toledo, the son of the notorious Duke of Alva, forced an entrance into the town on the 16th day of November, 1572. Mons and Mechlin having been captured and promptly sacked, Alva had repaired to Nymwegen, leaving Don Frederic to conquer the provinces in the north and east--preferably by force, for they were a bloodthirsty lot, those Spaniards. A seeming lack of patriotism on the parts of the cities which had already submitted, too enthusiastically perhaps, to the Spaniards, gave these international marauders little excuse to resort to their usual heinous methods of effecting subjugation.

When Zutphen, therefore, offered a feeble and half-hearted resistance against the troops of Frederic of Toledo, and the fact was reported to his father, the commander in chief and arch brigand of the whole depredating crew, he promptly sent orders to his son to enter the city and kill every man and burn every house to the ground. According to Motley, “the Duke’s command was almost literally obeyed. Don Frederic entered Zutphen, and without a moment’s warning put the whole garrison to the sword. The citizens next fell a defenseless prey; some being stabbed in the streets, some hanged on the trees which decorated the city, some stripped stark naked and turned out into the fields to freeze to death in the wintry night. As the work of death became too fatiguing for the butchers, five hundred innocent burghers were tied two and two, back to back, and drowned like dogs in the river Yssel. A few stragglers who had contrived to elude pursuit at first, were afterwards taken from their hiding-places and hung upon the gallows by their feet, some of which victims suffered four days and nights of agony before death came to their relief.”

To-day Zutphen is a quiet old city, very un-Dutch, if the expression may be permitted, with many narrow, crooked streets and a few canals of varying degrees of picturesqueness on its outskirts. Lumber is the principal industry of the place, and a great deal of poplar wood which goes to supply the wooden shoes for many parts of Holland is shipped from Zutphen.

Arnhem on the Rhine is the most thriving town as well as the capital of Gelderland. It is essentially an ancient place, dating back to a remote period in the history of the Netherlands; even some there be who give Arnhem the credit of being the original Arenacum of the Romans. It lies upon the southern slopes of the Veluwe district, and from its railway station the visitor will actually have to go down hill into the town--a topographical condition so foreign to any of the other Dutch cities already visited that Arnhem’s allegiance to Holland is questioned at first sight.

Although Arnhem is old, it lacks many of those gifts of age that one sees in other old cities throughout the country. Its appearance is German, but its people, realizing the monetary benefits that rival Dutch municipalities are deriving annually from the hordes of tourists that descend upon them, try to advertise it as typically Dutch, and issue frantic appeals to the traveler to be sure to pay it a visit on these grounds. With its 60,000 inhabitants it is the sixth city in point of population in Holland. Although it enjoys every advantage of transportation its commerce is pitiable; as a residence city, however, it is particularly favored. Because of the attractions of its environs, Arnhem is a favorite spot for the retired Dutch merchant, who, having amassed a fortune in the colonial trade after a long residence in the remote Straits Settlements, seeks some quiet place at home endowed with the beauties of nature, in which to spend the remainder of his days in comfort.

The oldest part of Arnhem is the southern end of the city, bordering on the Rhine and clustering about the Groote Markt as a center. The Groote Kerk, an ecclesiastical building of large parts and deep excavations, containing numerous monuments in memory of various historical celebrities, bounds the market square on the west, and on the south one may pierce the surrounding buildings to the Eusibius Square and the Rhine bank through the ancient Sabil-Poort, a Gothic gateway recalling the days when Arnhem was fortified with the customary town wall.

At the side of the Groote Kerk Arnhem holds a weekly market which is scarcely more distinctive than that of Groningen but so popular with the peasants that it overflows into the neighboring streets, and places trolley service through the vicinity in a state of disruption. Having driven into town the evening before, the country people unhitch their horses and leave their wagons standing in the square so as to lose no time in getting ready for business in the morning. Much faith they must have in the honesty and orderliness of the citizens of Arnhem, for their loads of vegetables and whatever they have for sale remain in the open, when the weather is propitious, without even a covering.

A few blocks to the east of the market square lies the Eusibiusbinnensingel, a beautiful park-like place, but a mouthful to pronounce, with a lake in the center surrounded by great shade trees and geometrical flower plots. If you follow this to the northward, you will come, after a short walk, to the Velperplein, the pulse of Arnhem’s trolley traffic, the principal feature of which is a large building that goes under the poetical name of the Musis Sacrum, containing a restaurant and various halls for exhibitions. Here at the tables of the open air café the German tourists are wont to forgather for refreshment purposes, guarding the while their little ten-by-two-inch satchels, scarcely large enough to hold half a dozen cigars, as if they contained the entire wardrobe and family jewels of their owners.

In the Velperplein one may board an electric car for any part of the city and many of its suburbs. And it is best to patronize the trolley service of Arnhem whenever possible, because taxicabs, horse drawn or motor propelled, are not to be found in operation. The buccaneering cabbies of Arnhem, next of kin to the piratical baggage porters of Fiume, charge a goodly price to take you out upon a drive in the environs, and double the amount to bring you back, on the ground that your ignorance of their language, not considering their ignorance of yours, was the cause of a misinterpretation of directions. And the worst of this tourist bleeding system is that the hotel head porters connive with the cabbies.

On top of a real hill half a mile to the north of the railway station is Sonsbeek, a favorite rendezvous of the pleasure-seeking Arnhemers, thickly wooded, containing a small lake or two, and, of course, the inevitable café, while the ascent of a tower called the Belvedere is offered as a temptation only to those who expect to obtain a magnificent and inspiring view where only a mediocre one exists.

The Velperweg, the Amsterdamschestraatweg--but if this kind of thing goes on it might tangle my type into a knotted, inextricable mass; for purely mechanical reasons, therefore, I shall revert to an English version. The Velper Road, the Amsterdam Road, the Zyp Road, the Utrecht Road, and the Apeldoorn Road are the five principal arteries that tap the environs that have made Arnhem famous with the Dutchman. Each one penetrates imposing woods, the like of which the Hollander never saw before, but ruthlessly tramped almost threadbare by his frequent pilgrimages through them in search of a “panorama,” no matter how insignificant. At the different points where the foliage permits of a view of sometimes several miles across the wheat fields, fruit venders have set up their stands, the ground is littered with papers and the empty boxes discarded by many picnickers, and the importunate picture postcard man is seen in his element.

The Velp Road, which leads at length to Zutphen, is, perhaps, the gem of all the five. Wide and well kept, it is lined on either side as far as the village of Velp, a distance of three miles from Arnhem, with handsome residences and tastefully laid out lawns and gardens which are girt with small canals in lieu of fences, so that each may be admired from the roadway.

Halfway along is Bronbeek, the royal asylum for invalid soldiers who have served in the colonial wars. It was bought by King William III in 1854 from its private owners, and presented by him to the State five years later on condition that it be devoted to its present purpose. Little cascades trickle here and there through its grounds, while the pair of cannon mounted on its front lawn bespeaks its use as no blaring signboard could possibly do. Not far from the corner entrance to its park stands a statue of William II as Crown Prince, portrayed as carrying his arm in a sling after having received a wound in the battle of Waterloo. The interior of the building contains collections of portraits of East Indian heroes, and of weapons, flags, and other trophies of war taken in the colonies.

Rosendaal, one of the largest estates in Gelderland, can be reached after a pleasant walk of a mile in a northerly direction from Velp. Mentioned for the first time as early as 1314, its grounds are still kept in a state of baronial magnificence, but of its old castle only a comparatively small part of a great round tower remains.

Another walk, but toward the east on the road to the village and wood of Beekhuizen, brings you to the castle of Biljoen, erected by Charles, Duke of Guelders, in 1530, upon the foundations of an eleventh century stronghold.

Nymwegen may be considered the twin city of Arnhem; when one is mentioned the other is instinctively thought of. They lie close to each other, are of about the same population, offer the same general aspects, and have played parts of equal importance in the general history of the country; but of the two, Nymwegen is possibly the more diverting. It is two cities in one--the older part being purely Dutch, with its old Dutch buildings and a few Dutch types which are mocked by the declivity of some of its streets; the more modern and larger part being distinctively German, with its _platzes_, the general distribution and embellishment of its thoroughfares, and the density of its greenery. The center of this German portion of Nymwegen is the Keiser-Karelplein, a beautiful square from which the different streets radiate; but what should be the pleasing quiet of the neighborhood is constantly and mercilessly broken by the shrieks of the engine of a noisy tram train that rattles around among the trees as if hunting in vain for a convenient exit.

Yet another example of the very esthetic habit that the Dutch have of demolishing old fortifications and planting the sites as public pleasure grounds may be seen in the Kronenburg Park, the contour of whose slopes adds admirably to the general landscape effect. Down at the bottom is a duck-dotted lake bordered with the benches that constitute the trysting places of many a young Nymwegen couple, so unconscious of any but their own affairs that they suffer old ladies to sit upon the same bench and knit and spy with generous eyes upon the lovers’ advances. At the farther edge of the lake they have mercifully preserved one of the sixteen towers that once strengthened the town walls.

The Waal, one of the many branches of the Rhine, is a busier river at Nymwegen than the real Rhine is at Arnhem. Tows of long, narrow boats, typical of the Rhine above Cologne, ply up and down under the great iron railway bridge and lend to the city more of a German air than ever.

Overlooking the river some distance above the railway bridge are the shady pleasure grounds of the Valkhof, one of the seven hills upon which the city of Nymwegen was originally built and where Charlemagne erected an imperial palace, later destroyed by the French in 1796. An interesting and picturesque ruin is a small fragment of the old palace church, built by Emperor Frederick Barbarossa, while near by may be seen the oldest remnant of ecclesiastical architecture in the Netherlands--the sixteen-sided Gothic castle chapel, rebuilt a number of times after being consecrated originally by Pope Leo III in 799.

Across what must have been the castle moat and connected with the Valkhof grounds by an iron bridge, a tower of the seventeenth century affords the people of Nymwegen an attractive view of which they are justly proud, embracing as it does the fertile farming districts as far as Cleve, to the southeast, as far as Arnhem, to the north, and, upon a clear day, as many as four rivers: the Rhine, the Maas, the Waal, and the Yssel.

The old Church of St. Stephen and the brick gateway that leads to it from the market square, the weigh-house with its red and black shutters, the Town Hall, and a number of other old buildings in the vicinity of the Groote Markt are all essentially Dutch, but for which the visitor might easily imagine himself in a German city.

With those of Arnhem, however, Nymwegen’s environs can scarcely hope to compete. The steam tram that rattles around the Keiser-Karelplein eventually escapes the city limits and climbs the long hill to the Hotel Berg en Dal, from the vicinity of which one may look out upon a much vaunted “panorama” that might at least be worth while under certain conditions. But what with the blatant strummings of an automatic piano that considers itself of valuable assistance to the complete enjoyment of the view, and the petty vibrations of a more or less popular photographer intent upon making likenesses of visitors in the unusual and startling act of looking from the top of a hill in Holland, the view is rendered more of a bore than a diversion.

The Dutch province of Limburg, a narrow tongue of land successfully battled for by the Dutch against the Belgians in the war of 1830–31, lying away to the south of Gelderland and wedged in between Belgium on the west and Germany on the east, is so un-Netherlandish, both as to peoples and topography, that it can scarcely be considered as a part of the Holland that the tourist expects. Its inhabitants even speak a low German dialect instead of Dutch. Furthermore, it is not on any route that a tour through Holland might include, for Maastricht, its historical old capital, is on the direct railway line between Brussels and Cologne and may be more easily visited from either of those points than from any city in Holland proper.

CHAPTER XV

UTRECHT AND ’S HERTOGENBOSCH

There can be only one reason for my clearing my conscience of Utrecht and ’S Hertogenbosch in one and the same chapter. This may or may not be apparent to him who has already toured Holland, for the two towns cannot be said to be on the same line of traffic; they are not even in the same province; neither are they alike in appearance. Utrecht, the capital of the province of that name, with its canals and old houses, its lime avenues and its shady parks, has more of the typical Dutch element in its make-up, and can be as easily reached, and as profitably, from either Rotterdam or Amsterdam.

’S Hertogenbosch, on the other hand, the frontier town of the southern provinces, lies along the route that leads into Germany, and its “windmills and wooden shoes” are conspicuous in their absence. It seems, out of respect for its geographical position, more of a Belgian city. Indeed, the Belgians, unable to conquer its Dutch nomenclature, long ago rechristened the place, and now it is as often spoken of by the more euphonious name of Bois le Duc--a merciful convenience for all of my personal purposes, because it is as difficult to write ’S Hertogenbosch as it is to pronounce it. Since to Bois le Duc it has been simplified, Bois le Duc it shall be henceforth called within these pages.

Now to divulge my secret for treating Utrecht and Bois le Duc in the same chapter: with their famous churches they are the most important ecclesiastical cities in Holland. Utrecht, in addition, is a university town, a cattle center, and one of the oldest places, as well as one of the largest, in the Netherlands. In Roman times it was known by the Latin translation of “The Ford of the Rhine”--_Trajectum ad Rhenum_. In the seventh century, under the Frisians, King Dagobert I founded here the first Frisian church. Subsequently the archbishops of Utrecht grew to be the most powerful of medieval prelates, and their see at an early date became renowned for the magnificence of its houses of worship. Utrecht was included in the French province of Lorraine, was later annexed to the German empire by force of circumstances, and enjoyed the distinction of being a favorite residence of the emperors. The union of the seven Dutch provinces was formed in Utrecht in 1579, under the sponsorship and direction of John of Nassau, brother of William, Prince of Orange, to establish the independence of the Netherlands. From that time on until 1593 the States-General assembled here; in that year the seat of the Dutch Government was transferred to The Hague. The most celebrated event in the old city’s history, however, took place on the 11th of April, 1713, when the peace was here concluded that terminated the Spanish wars of Succession.

That much for history.

Twentieth century Utrecht is different. Its old-time importance as one of the foremost commercial cities of the Middle Ages was owing to its enviable position on the Rhine where the river wrenches itself into two branches--the Old Rhine and the Vecht. The former percolates, according to the will and calculations of the Dutch engineers, into the North Sea at Katwyk, and the Vecht empties into the Zuyder Zee, near Muiden. The city’s commercial importance and activity have dwindled piteously into a weekly cattle market held in the Vreeburg, Utrecht’s great central square, occupying the site of a castle built in 1517 by Emperor Charles V.

With the break of day on Saturday the farmers from the surrounding country, “_klomped_” in more varied styles of wooden shoes than you will find in any other single town in Holland, begin to arrive with their stock at the Vreeburg. In the night a conglomerate collection of little side-show tents and canvas-covered stalls for the sale of almost everything, has sprung up like a bed of mushrooms on the outskirts of the market place, so that the cattle dealer, after he has negotiated a substitution of stock for its equivalent in the coin of the realm, may want for neither amusement nor a convenient place to purchase the hundred and one articles that his better seven-eighths has cautioned him not to come home without.

Singularly enough, the same methods obtain in bargaining for cows in Utrecht that are prevalent while dickering for cheeses in Alkmaar. There is the same placid composure on the part of the seller, the same minute examination on the part of the buyer; there is the same Captain John Smith pose; there is the same whacking of hands; there is the same general exodus from the market place, after the ceremonies, to the more blithesome lunchrooms and halls of frivolity. I wish I might have followed up the case of a cattle dealer whom I saw in a certain café after the market, making a lunch of the uncertain mixture of a glass of beer and a dish of currants. The notation of the after effects of the combination might have been of value to materia medica.

Utrecht’s famous old churches have been pillaged and desecrated to a great extent by the elements and the changes wrought by time and tide. Once, long ago, when the followers of the various creeds were all at sixes and sevens, the Munsterkerk, the Pieterskerk, the Janskerk, and the cathedral itself, no doubt, with their cloistersful of clergy, were walled in and moated, and patronized as much as asylums of refuge as for worship. To-day they are simply tolerated. A coffeehouse does a land office business in the archbishop’s palace, and the tramcar company has tunneled through the vaulted archway of the great detached cathedral tower rather than go to the trouble of laying the tracks around it.

And what a cathedral this Gothic curiosity of Utrecht is! Erected in the eleventh century upon the site of a former ecclesiastical edifice founded in 720, in its day it must have easily outclassed anything of its ilk in all the Netherlands. Now its back is broken, so to speak, beyond repair, for in 1674 a violent hurricane that bowled a spare with the church towers in the district, tore out the nave of the cathedral and left the tower and the choir completely disconnected. The site of the demolished nave now forms the center of the Cathedral Square, and is as much a thoroughfare as any street in the city.

The interior of the church, like the interior of almost every church of any size in Holland, offers little of originality or interest. The walls are covered with many layers of unbecoming whitewash, and any pleasing effect that the columned interior might have originally had is lost, for a portion in the center is boarded up, like a bull ring with its barrier, segregating the inclosed space for the purpose of uninterrupted worship. The one redeeming feature of the whole place, aside from a few meritorious monuments, is a handsome oaken pulpit, elaborately carved by hand, so as to give the effect of a miniature cathedral in itself.

After being a city of disabled and decrepit churches, Utrecht is a university town, and the seven or eight hundred students in attendance do their best to emulate the early ecclesiastics by trying to keep the place in a state of perennial siege, for it is to be remembered that the drudgery and frugality of university life in Holland is not what it is cracked up to be. In a way, a Dutch college education is a good bit of a farce. The student is under very few obligations except to himself. He does not have to appear in chapel; he does not even have to attend classes, and there are a large number of students in each of Holland’s three universities--young men of private fortune who take up a course in law or what not, with no intention of ever practicing, in order to avail themselves of the gaiety and freedom of university life--who never enter a lecture room from one term’s end to the other. Consequently, there is much hilarity and much extravagance, all of which is more or less resented by the thrifty, peaceful townspeople, and which sometimes places the two factions under strained relations. When a student does complete a course, having seen fit to relegate himself to the hard, honest work necessary to the attainment of a doctor’s degree, he deems it of such momentous occurrence that he forthwith has his thesis published in book form _de luxe_, and, hiring a carriage, which is manned by student initiates into his Corps, he drives in state to the residences of his several professors and intimate friends, leaving with each a copy of his work.

In the above mentioning of the Students’ Corps, I have named a salient feature of student life in Holland, and one which none of her universities is without. Although of broader membership, it takes the place of our own fraternities. It includes, however, all the students who can afford to pay its dues and subscriptions. A senate, comprising a rector, a secretary, and three other functionaries, elected annually by the Corps from among its members of four or more years’ standing, dictates the policy of the Corps and administers its affairs. Any member of the Corps is eligible for membership in the Corps Club, the culminating distinction of Dutch university life, or for any of its various subdivisions of athletic or social societies. The initiates undergo most of the harmless little byplays, not to mention some new ones, that provide for such a halcyon period in the careers of our own fraternal neophytes.

Among its numerous idiosyncrasies Utrecht has a canal, called the Oude Gracht, that is unique in comparison with other canals in other cities in Holland. The water in this canal lies far below the level of the bordering streets. Between the street and the water there is a great stone step that forms the real canal bank. In the old days the “riser” above this step was made up of foundation arches of stone upon which were built the specious mansions that fronted the thoroughfares alongside the canal. To make use of spaces which would otherwise be wasted, these vaulted foundations served as cellars, with the street for a roof, and were in as constant use as any other part of the dwelling. Most of them are now occupied as shops, to the entrances of which you must descend a flight of steps from the roadway above; but here and there their windows display the lace curtain and the boxful of flowers that give evidence of domestic habitation.

Utrecht, too, has many verdant beauty spots, the most verdant being the Hoogeland Park, with its circumference bordered with attractive villas and reached through a wide lime avenue they call the Maliebaan. In the Antiquarian Museum, situated in the park, one may behold the two most interesting relics in the possession of Utrecht, if we exclude, perhaps, the seventy different kinds of lace on view in the Archiepiscopal Museum on the Nieuwe Gracht. These are: a table, handsomely and delicately carved, at which the signatories of the famous Peace of Utrecht were said to have sat in 1713; and the “Doll’s House,” an accurate reproduction in miniature of a patrician dwelling of the period, executed in 1680, and worked out in the minutest detail from cellar to chimney pot, from kitchen utensils to genuine oil paintings by celebrated masters on the walls of the drawing room.

Surrounding Utrecht and penetrating far to the east and the south are the great fortifications, of whose presence the casual observer is entirely unaware, belonging to the first line of national defense that might be used to protect the Dutch capital from invasion--a defense in which she seeks the assistance of her mortal enemy, and discovers him weighed in the balance and not found wanting. Upon a process of general inundation, by fresh water wherever possible so as not to impair the future productiveness of the fields, does Holland depend for her safety from invasion both by land and by sea. In the probability of the latter, her power of self-exclusion is augmented by a treaty with Belgium, signed in 1892, confirmed in 1905, and only recently made public, reserving for her the right to block the great estuary of the Scheldt in case of war or rumors of war. In times of peace Belgium shares with the Netherlands all rights of navigation of the Scheldt, and Holland may not displace or remove buoys, lights, or other aids to navigation, without Belgian consent.

But with regard to Holland’s ability to isolate herself by general inundation, it is a scheme that gives little outward evidence of being in operation. A stranger might roam within her boundaries for a year and a day without even surmising that such a thing could be accomplished, so successfully are her greatest works hidden from the eye. The scheme provides, in brief, for the blowing up of railway bridges and for the opening of the sluice gates of great reservoirs, regulating the amount of water to be poured in over the country so that it should all be of the same depth, prohibiting both the possibility of wading through it and the passage of vessels over it.

A half a day, if time presses, will suffice to see Bois le Duc. After you have wandered about in its great Gothic cathedral of St. John, one of the largest and, by all odds, the fanciest church--if a church can be said to be fancy--in Holland, you will have done with the town. It holds nothing else of interest. Although of 32,000 population, and the capital of the Province of North Brabant, it is dull and unappealing to the tourist. There are few types and few distinctive mannerisms. Of its costumes, the only feature is a headdress, affected by some of the countrywomen of the surrounding district, composed of white lace and topped with garlands of artificial flowers as ridiculous and disappointing as the “poke bonnets” worn by the middle-aged matrons of Leeuwarden, and just as out of place.

Even the market square is devoid of the usual fringe of ancient buildings. Here they hold a cattle market on Wednesdays, but to strike every city in Holland upon the day of its distinctive market would necessitate a vast amount of vibratory traveling, which in itself, and not considering the markets, would soon grow monotonous. I happened upon Bois le Duc on a Saturday, when one of those nondescript, unsavory bazaars of cooking utensils and crockery was in full swing. It was a hot day, for Holland, and the sun beat down upon the unprotected square with a most uncomfortable effect. So I spent most of my spare time under the awning of a nearby café watching the business transactions of a couple of “hokey-pokey” wagons, decorated and garnished so that they resembled the floats in a Queen of the May pageant.

But an inspection of Bois le Duc’s cathedral will reimburse any traveler who has planned to pay the town a visit. It stands on the edge of a wide parade ground, not far from the market, from the opposite side of which the church’s Gothic gargoyles and entablatures can be seen to good advantage above the trees.

Founded in the eleventh century, this cathedral was originally erected as a Romanesque edifice. After suffering the inevitable results of a devastating conflagration, it was rebuilt in the early half of the fifteenth century, its Romanesque design having been discarded and a late Gothic one adopted. Since 1860 it has been subjected to a plan of restoration. And not only from without is it a pleasing contrast to the usual run of Dutch churches, but it is the only one in Holland whose interior, having marvelously escaped the iconoclasm of early days, and having been allowed to remain undesecrated by the customary coat of whitewash and the central bull ring, is what it ought to be. The visitor of to-day may obtain an uninterrupted view from one end of the cathedral to the other, for the authorities, always in need of funds to carry on the restorations to the church, sold its handsome choir screen some years ago and realized $4,500 on it. But the absence of the screen will scarcely be noticed in the cathedral--indeed, the general effect is more satisfying without it. Stowed away, however, among a collection of other ecclesiastical curios in the new Victoria and Albert Museum in South Kensington, London, without the lights and shadows of its church to enhance its richness, it has lost much of its beauty.

From Bois le Duc I was ticketed to quit the country. I had seen the cathedral, and time hung heavily, so I wandered back to the station all of an hour before the scheduled departure of my train, to jot down a few notes and indulge in a few final musings upon a great nation--the only little thing about which I found to be its area--a nation of great deeds in peace and in war, a nation of great men, a nation that has, by the sheer character of its people, surmounted great obstacles, and a nation with a future as great as its past.

Each time I have visited Holland I have been loath to leave, but in more ways than one this feeling was mitigated in Bois le Duc, for Bois le Duc is a more satisfactory place to leave from than The Hague, for example, and when the always solicitous station master, in black frock coat and bright red cap, finally came to tell me that my train was due, I gathered together my impedimenta and followed him resignedly toward the train shed.

As I passed through the waiting-room my eye caught some lettering over the mantel of an artistic fireplace. Its words pronounced the traveler’s benediction: “_Goede Reis_.” Whether he appreciated the fact or not, that old fireplace had stood there for years, wishing the voyageur a pleasant journey, and the gentleness, the simple kindliness of the message struck me as being characteristic of the men who put it there--the Hollanders.

THE END

INDEX

Aanspreker, the, 53, 54

Acreage, 1

Admiral de Ruyter, 111, 147

Admiral Dirkzoon, 154

Albert Cuyp, 41, 48, 49

Alexander of Parma, 66, 67

Alkmaar, 123, 124, 137, 138, 147, 153

Alma Tadema, Laurens, 172

Alva, Duke of, 20, 63, 65, 191

Amalia, Princess, 84

Amstel, 109

Amsterdam, 1, 5, 6, 14, 55, 57, 75, 83, 107, 108, 112, 118, 123,
124, 127–130, 137, 147, 150, 152, 153, 157

Amsterdam, Bank of, 122

Amusements, 88, 114, 115, 116, 156, 157

Animals, 57, 58

Anjou, Duke of, 66, 67

Antwerp, 20, 111

Apeldoorn, 189–191

Arnhem, 1, 193, 195, 198, 199

Arras, Bishop of, 63

Ary Scheffer, 41

Assen, 179, 182

Atlantic, 1

Australia, 152

Batavia, 151

Bathazar Gérard, 65–69

Beekhuizen, 198

Bergen-op-Zoom, 34, 36, 37

Beurs, 57

Bicycles, 23, 24

Biesbosch, 39

Biljoen, 198

Binnenhof, 41, 78–80

Bishop of Arras, 63

Bishop of Cambrai, 55

Bois le Duc, 202, 211–214

Bonaparte, Louis, 109, 110

Bosch, The, 84

Bossu, 153

Botanical Gardens, Leyden, 99

Boymans Museum, 50

Broek, 129

Bronbeek, 197

Buiksloot, 128

Building, 108

Bulbs, 103, 104

Canals, 7, 31, 34, 56, 57, 58, 61, 91, 101, 124, 125, 127, 131, 132,
137, 171, 173

Canal packets, 2

Castricum, 147

Catherine of Schwartzburg, 70

Cats, Father Jacob, 18

Cattle raising, 173

Charitable institutions, 100

Charles V, 19, 167

Church of St. Lawrence, 50

Cleanliness, 8, 34, 35, 59, 60, 129

Cleve, 199

Coen, 150

Coinage, 8

Coligny, Louisa de, 65

Colonial Offices, 80

Comparative size, 1, 2

Conference, International Peace, 84

Conquests of the sea, 4, 5

Corcoran Galleries, 80

Cornelius De Witt, 41, 79

Costumes, 22, 23, 135, 167, 168

Cromwell, Oliver, 19

Cultivation, 91, 158

Cuyp, Albert, 41, 48, 49

Dairy products, 173

Dam, The, 110

Damrak, 112, 128

Delft, 55, 59, 60–62, 65–67, 72

De Noord, 40

De Ruyter, Admiral, 111, 147

Descartes, 101

Deventer, 187

De Witt, Cornelius and John, 41, 79

Diamond trade, 118–120

Diemer Dike, 153

Dikes, 5–7, 26, 32, 42, 91, 92, 94, 95, 145, 146, 153

Dirkzoon, Admiral, 154

Domburg, 16, 25, 26, 100

Domestic animals, 57, 58

Dortrecht, 29, 39, 40–44, 48

Dou, Gerard, 92

Dredging, 5

Drenthe, 176, 181

Dronrijp, 172

Duke of Alva, 20, 63, 65, 191

Duke of Anjou, 66, 67

Duke of Mecklenburg-Schwerin, 82

Duke of Orange, 63

Duke of York, 147

Dutch East Indies, 151

Dutch East India Company, 61, 109, 151

Dutch West India Company, 80

Edam, 21, 124, 130, 131, 138, 153

Eendragtsweg, 55

Eise Eisenga, 165

Endegeest, 101

England, 19

Enkhuizen, 154, 157, 158

Erasmus, Desiderius, 55

Eusibiusbinnensingel, 194

Ewyksluis, 33

Eyerland, 148

Family life, 57

Feijenoord, 46

Fishing, 158

Flevo, Lake, 159

Floris V, 78, 109, 138

Flowers, 102–104, 158

Flushing, 14, 15, 19, 20, 25

Foolish Betsy, 21

France, 8

Franeker, 165

Franz Hals, 105

Frederic of Toledo, 104, 191, 192

Frederick Henry of Orange, Prince, 84

Friesland, 33, 63, 144, 148, 160, 165, 168, 173

Frisian Monks, 5

Frisian Museum, 170

Fuel, 181, 182

Gemeelandshuis, 62

Gérard, Bathazar, 65–69

Gerard Dou, 92

Gerard Terburg, 183

Germany, 8, 11

Gevangenpoort, 36, 79

Gherardts, Gherardt, 54, 55

Goes, 29, 31, 32, 34

Goldsmith, Oliver, 13, 92

Government, 8

Groningen, 123, 144, 146, 148, 176–178

Groote Ryndyk, 91

Grooteveerhaven, 55

Grotius, 79, 92

Guides, 76

Gysbrecht, 109

Haarlem, 77, 78, 102, 124

Haarlem Lake, 6

Haarlem Polder, 101

Haarlemermeer, 5, 6, 101

Hague, The, 14, 24, 41, 56, 75–78, 80, 83, 84–86, 91, 124, 138, 204

Haring, 152

Haring, John, 153, 155

Harlingen, 165

Hasselaer, Kenau, 105

Helder, The, 123, 128, 143–147

Hendrik de Keyser, 55

Hendrik Landman, 17, 18, 21

’S Hertogenbosch, 55, 202

Herr van Klaes, 52, 53

Het Loo, 190

Hindeloopen, 165

Holbein, 81

Holland, North, 4

Holland, South, 4

Hollandsch Diep, 39

Homes, 57

Hoogstraat, 83

Hook, The, 2, 59

Hoorn, 130, 150, 154, 155, 157

Hotels, 172

Ij, The, 124

Imports, 49, 50

Inundations, 5

Inquisition, 73, 74

Island of Texel, 148, 149

Island of Urk, 187

Israels, Josef, 177

Jansen, Zacharias, 18, 37

Jan Steen, 81, 92

Jan van Oldenbarnevelt, 79

Joden-Breestraat, 113

John, Long, 16, 17, 20

John Lothrop Motley, 65, 67, 72, 73, 84, 153, 154, 192

Josef Israels, 177

Juliana, Princess, 11, 82

Kaiser Friedrich’s Museum, 80

Kalf, Mynheer, 126

Kalverstraat, 83, 112

Kampen, 185, 186

Katwyk, 100, 101

Kenau Hasselaer, 105

King William I, 110

Kreekerak, 34

Lake Flevo, 159

Landman, Hendrik, 17, 18, 21

Language, 29, 30, 31

Leeuwarden, 123, 157, 165, 168, 169, 171

Leyden, 6, 42, 64, 91, 92, 93, 95, 98, 101, 104, 139

Lieutenant van Speyk, 111

Limburg, 201

Loevenstein, 79

Long John, 16, 17, 20

Louis Bonaparte, 110

Louis of Nassau, Count, 93

Louvre, 80

Maas, 1, 40, 45, 46, 49, 199

Maastricht, 201

Maes, Nicolas, 41

Maps, 3, 33

Margaret of Parma, 63

Marken, 126, 127, 129, 135

Markets, 34, 178, 194, 204, 205

Marriage, 9–11

Marsdiep, Strait of, 145, 146, 148

Marssum, 173

Maurice of Nassau, 78

Maurice of Orange, 79

Mauritshuis, 80, 81

Mauritsweg, 55

Mechlin, 191

Mecklenburg-Schwerin, Duke of, 82

Meppel, 179, 183

Merwede, 40

Mesdag, H. W., 177

Mesdag Museum, 83, 172

Meuse, 94

Middelburg, 15, 16, 20, 21, 22, 24, 25, 27, 29, 64

Ministry of Justice, 80

Mint Tower, 112

Monnikendam, 21, 128, 129, 130, 135

Mons, 191

Morsch Gate, 99

Motley, John Lothrop, 65, 67, 72, 84, 153, 154, 192

Municipal Abbatoir, 121, 122

Municipal Pawnshop, 120, 121

Murillo, 81

Napoleon Bonaparte, 24, 81

New Zealand, 152

Nicolas Maes, 41

Nieuwediep, 148

Noordwyk, 100

North Holland, 4

North Sea, 4, 39, 124, 144

Nymwegen, 191, 198, 199

Oliver Goldsmith, 13, 92

Oosterkade, 51

Oosterpoort, 150

Orange, Prince of, 94, 105

Over-Yssel, 176

Parklaan, 55

Patriotism, 12

Paupers, 100

Pavements, 21, 22

Peace Palace, 85

Peter the Great, 126

Petroleum Harbor, 124

Philip II, 19, 62, 63

Piaam, 33

Pile Driving, 108, 110

Plein 1813, 83

Polder, 7, 31, 32, 33, 101, 137

Population, 1

Potter, Paul, 81

Prince of Orange, 20, 61, 64

Princess Juliana, 11, 82

Prinsenhof, 65

Queen Wilhelmina, 12, 74, 82, 110, 111, 190

Railways, 2, 7, 38, 39, 43, 57, 80, 91, 92, 137, 157, 179, 180, 181

Reclamation, 159

Rembrandt, 80, 92, 117

Rembrandtplein, 112, 114

Rhine, The, 12, 40, 46, 50, 101, 199

Rijks Museum, 116, 117

Rosendaal, 37, 197

Rotterdam, 1, 40, 45, 46, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 54–58, 75, 79, 83, 94,
95, 110, 124

Royal Palace, 82, 110

Rubens, 81

Rynland, 101

Rynsburg, 101

Scheldt, 16, 19, 34

Schenkweg, 91

Scheveningen, 83, 85, 87, 89, 90, 100, 135

Schiedam, 94, 95

Schokland, 187

Schools, 9

Schouten, 150, 152

Sea, conquests of the, 4, 5

Sea, North, 4, 39, 124

Shoes, wooden, 4

Size, 1, 2

Smoking, 51, 52, 53

Sneek, 165

Society for the Public Welfare, 100

Solomon Islands, 152

Sonoy, 153

Sonsbeek, 196

South Holland, 4

Spaniards, 42, 64, 95–97, 139, 152, 153, 191

Spinoza, 101

Spuistraat, 83

St. Nicholas Abbey, 21

St. Pancras, 99

Staple, 40, 41

Stavoren, 157, 159, 160–164

Steen, Jan, 81, 92

Storks, 173–175

Strait of Marsdiep, 145, 146, 148

Straits Settlements, 52

Street railways, 51

Sumatra, 52

Switzerland, 8

Tasman, 150, 151

Tasmania, 151

Telegraph line, 56

Terburg, 81, 183

Texel, 149

The Hague, 14, 24, 41, 56, 75–78, 80, 83–86, 91, 124, 138, 204

The Hook, 2

The Rhine, 12, 40, 46, 50, 101, 199

Tolls, 27

Topography, 1

Tromp, 147

Tulips, 102–104

Utrecht, 63, 202–204, 208

Utrecht, University of, 207, 208

Valdez, 94

Van der Werf, 95

Van der Werf Park, 99

Van Dieman, 151

Van Dyke, 81

Van Ruysdael, Jacob, 105

Veere, 16, 21, 23–27

Velasquez, 81

Velperplein, 195

Venice, 44

Verdronken Land, 34

Vermeer, 81

Volendam, 124, 126, 127, 131–135

Voorburg, 92

Voorschoten, 92

Vroek, 130

Vrouwensand, 160

Waal, 40, 199, 200

Wagenaarstraat, 18

Walcheren, 14–17, 20, 22, 24, 26

Wegenstraat, 83

West Hove, 25

Westkapelle, 26, 27

Westplein, 46

Wilhelminakade, 47

Wilhelmina, Queen, 12, 74, 82, 110, 111, 190

Willem’splein, 80

Willem’s Park, 83

William I, 190

William II, 78, 79, 166, 190, 197

William III, 197

William of Orange, Prince, 20, 61, 64, 94

William the Silent, 62, 63, 65, 66, 69, 71–73, 80, 82, 93

Windmills, 4, 125

Wooden shoes, 4

Wynstraat, 41

Y, The, 124, 128

Yssel, 94, 95, 185, 191, 200

Zaan, 137

Zaandam, 123, 125, 126, 137, 147, 157

Zacharias Jansen, 37

Zandvoort, 124

Zeeland, 4, 14, 15, 22, 27, 34, 64

Zuid-Beveland Canal, 34

Zuid-Holland, 39

Zuidplas Polder, 7

Zuyder Zee, 1, 2, 4, 32, 35, 123, 124, 126–128, 130, 144, 157, 159,
166, 176, 185, 191

Zutphen, 191, 192

Zwolle, 123, 179, 183

Transcriber’s Note

The changes are as follows:

Page 16—seven and a half minutes changed to seven-and-a-half
minutes.
Page 22, Page 43 and Page 91—brick paved changed to brick-paved.
Page 23—robbin’s changed to robin’s.
Page 27—fifteenth century changed to fifteenth-century.
Page 30—diaphram changed to diaphragm.
Page 30—black-and-white cattle changed to black and white cattle.
Page 49—machine-shops changed to machine shops.
Page 57—awnnings changed to awnings.
Page 63—anl changed to and.
Page 70—half-way changed to halfway.
Page 80—Friederich’s changed to Friedrich’s.
Page 85—beside being changed to besides being.
Page 95—marketplace changed to market place.
Page 104—comma added after the siege of Lyden.
Page 113—pleasure seeking changed to pleasure-seeking.
Page 116—rused changed to rushed.
Page 123 and Page 209—situate changed to situated.
Page 130—four fifths changed to four-fifths.
Page 136—brass work changed to brass-work.
Page 172—Donrijp changed to Dronrijp.
Page 191—blood-thirsty changed to bloodthirsty.
Page 195—Velper Plein changed to Velperplein.
Page 196—picnicers changed to picnickers.
Page 197—Rozendaal changed to Rosendaal.
Page 198—Keiser-Karelsplein changed to Keiser-Karelplein.
Page 201—topograhy changed to topography.
Page 201—Furhermore changed to Furthermore.
Page 203—States General changed to States-General.

In the Index:
Page 215—Pages 41–48 for Albert Cuyp changed to
41, 48, 49.
Page 216—Donrijp changed to Dronrijp, and the
alphabetical order corrected.
Page 217—Osterpoort changed to Oosterpoort.
Page 218—Schenckweg changed to Schenkweg.
Page 218—Velper Plein changed to Velperplein.
Page 218—Verdronkenland changed to Verdronken Land.
Page 219—Zaandvoort changed to Zandvoort, and the
alphabetical order corrected.

End of Project Gutenberg's Windmills and Wooden Shoes, by Blair Jaekel