and eight feet high. The ceiling of the room inside the dwelling is only four or five feet high, and above this the stores of hay and corn are kept. A hole in the roof serves as chimney, and in the floor–which is nothing but hard clay–a hole is dug to serve as fireplace. On the larger farms in Overyssel the main building is generally divided into two parts. The back part is for the cattle, which stand in rows on either side, with a large open space in the centre, called the ‘deel,’ where the carts are kept. A large arched double door leads into it, while the thatched roof comes down low on either side. Leading from the ‘deel,’ or stable, into the living-room is a small door, with a window to enable the inhabitants to see what is going on among their friends of the fields. Against the wall which forms the partition between the stable and living-room is the fireplace. You will sometimes find an open fire on the floor, though in the more modern houses stoves are used. The chimney-piece is in the shape of a large overhanging hood with a flounce of light print ‘Schoorsteenval’ round it, and a row of plates on a shelf above serves for ornament. The much-prized linen-press, which has already been mentioned, is usually placed at right-angles to the outer door, so as to form a kind of passage.
In some farmhouses there is no partition at all between the stable and living-room, but the cattle are kept at the back, and the people live at the other end, near the window. This is called a ‘loshuis,’ or open house, and very picturesque it is to look at. The smell of the cows is considered to be extremely healthy, and consumptive patients have been completely cured (so it is popularly believed) by sleeping in the cowsheds. Besides being healthy, this primitive system is also cheap, for the cows give out so much warmth that it is almost unnecessary to have fires except for cooking purposes. Some of these open houses have no chimneys, the smoke finding its way out between the tiles of the roof or through the door. There is a hayloft above the part occupied by the cattle, while over the heads of the family hams, bacon, and sausages of every description hang from the rafters. Smoke is very useful in curing these stores, and this may account for the absence of a chimney.
In Brabant, however, where there are chimneys, the farmer hangs his stores in them, so that when looking up through the wide opening to the sky beyond numerous tiers of dangling sausages meet one’s admiring gaze. The living-room is a living-room in every sense of the word, for the family work, eat, and sleep there. Sometimes a larger farm has a wing attached to it containing bedrooms, but this is not general, and even so most of the family sleep in the living-room. The beds are placed round the room. They are, in fact, cupboards, and by day are fixed in the wall. Green curtains are hung before the beds, and are always drawn at night, completely concealing the beds from view. Some have doors like ordinary cupboards, but this is more general in North Holland. In Hindeloopen (Friesland) one or two beds in the living-room are kept as ‘pronk-bedden’ (show beds). They are decked out with the finest linen the farmers’ wives possess, the sheets gorgeous with long laces, and the pillow-slips beautifully embroidered. These beds are never slept in, and the curtains are kept open all day long, so that any one who enters the room can at once admire their beauty. Some of the more wealthy have a ‘best bedroom,’ which they keep carefully locked. They dust it every day, and clean it out once a week, but never use it. In South Holland it is more customary to have a ‘pronk-kamer’ (‘show-room’), which is not a bedroom, but a kind of parlour. This room is never entered by the inhabitants of the house except at a birth or a death, and in the latter case they put the corpse there. In Hindeloopen the dead are put in the church to await burial, and there they rest on biers specially made for the occasion. A different bier is used to represent the trade or profession or sex of the dead person. These biers are always most elaborately painted (as, indeed, are all things in Hindeloopen), with scenes out of the life of a doctor, a clergyman, a tradesman, or a peasant.
[Illustration: Type of an Overyssel Farmhouse.]
The costume worn by the peasantry is always quaint, and this is especially so in Hindeloopen. The waistband of a peasant woman takes alone an hour and a half to arrange. It consists of a very long, thin, black band, which is wound round and round the waist till it forms one broad sash. The dress itself includes a black skirt and a check bodice, a white apron, and a dark necktie; from the waistband hangs at the right-hand side a long silver chain, to which are attached a silver pincushion, a pair of scissors, and a needle-case; then on the left-hand side hangs a reticule with silver clasps; and a long mantle, falling loose from the shoulders to the hem of the skirt, is worn over all out-of-doors. This latter is of some light-coloured material, with a pattern of red flowers and green leaves. On the head three caps are worn, one over the other, and for outdoor wear a large, tall bonnet is donned by way of completing the costume.
[Illustration: A Farmhouse Interior, Showing the Door into the Stable.]
All the Frisian costumes are beautiful. Many ladies of that province still wear the national dress, and a very becoming one it is.
In Overyssel the women all over the province dress alike and in the same way their ancestors did. In the house the dress is an ordinary full petticoat of some cotton stuff, generally blue, and a tight-fitting and perfectly plain bodice with short sleeves, a red handkerchief folded across the chest, and a close-fitting white cap, with a little flounce round the neck. When they go to market with their milk and eggs they are very smart.[Footnote: Butter used to be one of the wares they took to market, but now so many butter-factories have arisen, and also so much is imported from Australia, that it is hardly worth their while to make it.]
They then wear a fine black merino skirt, made very full, and the inevitable petticoats, which make the skirt stand out like a crinoline. On Sundays they wear the same costume as on market-days, and in winter they are to be seen with large Indian shawls worn in a point down the back in the old-fashioned way. When they go to communion, as they do four times a year, the shawls are of black silk with long black fringes. The hair is completely hidden by a close-fitting black cap, and some women cut off their hair so as to give the head a perfectly round shape. Over the black cap is worn a white one of real lace, called a ‘knipmuts,’ the pattern of which shows to advantage over the black ground. A deep flounce of gauffred real lace goes round the neck, while round the face there is a ruche or frill, also very finely gauffred. A broad white brocaded ribbon is laid twice round the cap, and fastened under the chin. Long gold earrings are fastened to the cap on either side of the face, and the ears themselves are hidden. The style of gauffering is still the same as is seen in the muslin caps of so many Dutch pictures of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, especially in those of Frans Hals. When in mourning, the women wear a plain linen cap without any lace, and the men a black bow in their caps. It is quite a work of art to make up a peasant woman’s head-dress, and several cap-makers are kept busy at it all day long.
The clothes the men wear are not so elaborate. They used to be short knickerbockers with silver clasps, but these have entirely gone out of fashion, and they have been replaced by ordinary clothes of cloth or corduroy. Both sexes wear wooden shoes, which the men often make themselves. In the far-famed little island of Marken, the men are very clever at this work, and they carve them beautifully. In some lonely hamlets the unmarried women wear black caps with a thick ruche of ostrich feathers or black fur round the face. The jewellery consists of garnet necklaces closed round the neck and fastened by golden clasps. The garnets are always very large, and this fashion is general ail over the Netherlands. In Stompwyk, a little village between The Hague and Leyden, a peasant family possesses garnets as large as a swallow’s egg.
If the dress of the boers is solid, quaint, and national, the daily food of the class is in keeping with their conservative temper and traditional gastronomic ability. It is of the plainest character, but often consists of the strangest mixtures. When a pig is killed, and the different parts for hams, sides of bacon, etc., have been stored, and the sausages made–especially after they have boiled the black-puddings, or ‘Bloedworst,’ which is made of the blood of the pigs–a thick fatty substance remains in the pot. This they thicken with buckwheat meal till it forms a porridge, and then they eat it with treacle. The name of this dish is ‘Balkenbry.’ A portion of this, together with some of the ‘slacht,’ i.e. the flesh of the pig, is sent as a present to the clergyman of the village, and it is to be hoped he enjoys it.
Another favourite dish, especially in Overyssel and Gelderland, is ‘Kruidmoes.’ This is a mixture of buttermilk boiled with buckwheat meal, vegetables, celery, and sweet herbs, such as thyme, parsley, and chervil, and, to crown all, a huge piece of smoked bacon, and it is served steaming hot. The poor there eat a great deal of rice and flour boiled with buttermilk, which, besides being very nutritious, is ‘matchless for the complexion,’ like many of the advertised soaps. The very poor have what is called a ‘Vetpot.’ This they keep in the cellar, and in it they put every particle of fat that remains over from their meals. Small scraps of bacon are melted down and added to it, for this fat must last them the whole winter through as an addition to their potatoes. Indeed, the ‘Vetpot’ plays as great a part in a poor man’s house as the ‘stock-pot’ does in an English kitchen.
[Illustration: Farmhouse Interior, the Open Fire on the Floor.]
The meals are cooked in a large iron pot, which hangs from a hook over the open hearth. The fuel consists of huge logs of wood and heather sods, which are also used for covering the roofs of the ‘Plaggewoning.’ Black or rye bread takes the place of white, and is generally home-made. In Brabant the women bake what is called ‘Boeren mik.’ This is a delicious long brown loaf, and there are always a few raisins mixed with the dough to keep it from getting stale. Those who have no ovens of their own put the dough in a large long baking-tin and send it to the baker. One of the children, on his way back from school, fetches it and carries it home _under his arm_. You may often see farmers’ children walking about in their wooden shoes with two or more loaves under their arms. Both wooden shoes and loaves are used in a dispute between comrades, and the loaf-carrier generally gains the day. The crusts are very hard and difficult to cut, but, inside, the bread is soft and palatable.
In Brabant the peasants–small of stature, black-haired, brown-eyed, more of the Flemish than the Dutch type–are as a rule Roman Catholics, and on Shrove Tuesday evening ‘Vastenavond,’ ‘Fast evening’ (the night before Lent), they bake and eat ‘Worstebrood.’ On the outside this bread looks like an ordinary white loaf, but on cutting it open you find it to contain a spicy sausage-meat mixture. All the people in this part of the country observe the Carnival, with its accustomed licence.
Times for farming are bad in the Netherlands as elsewhere. The rents are high and wages low, and the consequence is that many peasants sell their farms, which have for a long time been in their families, and rent them again from the purchasers. The relations between landlord and tenants are in some respects still feudalistic, and hence very old-fashioned. On some estates the landlord has still the right of exacting personal service from his tenants, and can call upon them to come and plough his field with their horses, or help with the harvesting, for which service they are paid one ‘gulden,’ or 1s. 8d. a day, which, of course, is not the full value of their labour. The tenants likewise ask their landlord’s consent to their marriages, and it is refused if the man or woman is not considered suitable or respectable.
A farmer who keeps two or three cows pays a rent of L8 a year for his farm, which only yields enough to keep him and his family, not in a high standard of living either. The rent is generally calculated at the rate of three per cent. of the value. He pays his farm-labourers 80 cents, or 1s. 4d., for a day’s work. In former days, however, money was never given, and the wages of a farm-servant then were a suit of clothes, a pair of boots, and some linen, while the women received an apron, some linen, and a few petticoats once a year. Now they get in addition to this L12 a year. In Gramsbergen (Overyssel) a whole family, consisting of a mother, her daughter, and her two grown-up sons, earned no more than four or five guilders (8s. or 10s.) between them, but then they lived rent free. It is not wonderful, therefore, that farm-labourers are scarce, and that many a young man, unable to earn enough to keep body and soul together decently, seeks work in the factories here or in Belgium,[Footnote: According to a recent return, 56,506 Netherlands workmen are employed in Belgium.] while those who do not wish to give up agricultural pursuits migrate to Germany, where the demand for ‘hands’ is greater and the wages consequently higher. In former days strangers came to this country to earn money. Now the tables are turned, and the fact that Holland is situated between two countries whose thriving industries demand a greater number of workers every year will yet bring serious trouble and loss to Dutch agriculture. [Footnote: Just now great results are expected from the ‘allotment system,’ of which a trial has been made in Friesland on the extensive possessions of Mr. Jansen, of Amsterdam.]
Chapter IX
Rural Customs
The Hollander is a very conservative individual, and therefore some curious customs still prevail among the peasant and working classes in the Netherlands, especially in the Eastern provinces, for there the people are most primitive, and there it is that we find many queer old rhymes, apparently without any sense in them, but which must have had their origin in forgotten national or domestic events. A remnant of an old pagan custom of welcoming the summer is still to be seen in many country places. On the Saturday before Whitsunday, very early in the morning, a party of children may be seen setting out towards the woods to gather green boughs. After dipping these in water they return home in triumph and place them before the doors of those who were not ‘up with the lark’ in such a manner that, when these long sleepers open them, the wet green boughs will come tumbling down upon their heads. Very often, too, the children pursue the late risers, and beat them with the branches, jeering at them the while, and singing about the laziness of the sluggard. These old songs have undergone very many variations, and nowadays one cannot say which is the correct and original form. They have, in fact, been hopelessly mixed up with other songs, and in no two provinces do we find exactly the same versions. The ‘Luilak feest,'[Footnote: This day is called Luilak (sluggard) in some parts of the country and the feast is called Luilakfeest.’] of which I have just spoken, goes by the name of ‘Dauwtrappen’ (‘treading the dew’) in some parts of the country, but the observance of it is the same wherever the custom obtains.
[Illustration: Palm Paschen–Begging for Eggs.]
‘Eiertikken’ at Easter must also not be overlooked. For a whole week before Easter the peasant children go round from house to house begging for eggs, and carrying a wreath of green leaves stuck on a long stick. This stick and wreath they call their ‘Palm Paschen,’ which really means Palm-Sunday, and may have been so called because they make the wreath on that day.
Down the village streets they go, singing all the while and waving the wreath above their heads:–
Palm, Palm Paschen,
Hei koekerei.
Weldra is het Paschen
Dan hebben wy een ei.
Een ei–twee ei,
Het derde is het Paschei.
Palm, Palm Sunday,
Hei koekerei.
Soon it will be Easter
And we shall have an egg.
One egg–two eggs,
The third egg is the Easter egg.
They knock at every farmhouse, and are very seldom sent away empty-handed. When they have collected enough eggs to suit their purpose–generally three or four apiece–they boil them hard and stain them with two different colours, either brown with coffee or red with beetroot juice, and then on Easter Day they all repair to the meadows carrying their eggs with them, and the ‘eiertikken’ begins. The children sit down on the grass, and each child knocks one of his eggs against that of another in such a way that only one of the shells breaks. The child whose egg does not break wins, and becomes the possessor of the broken egg.
The strangest of all these begging-customs, however, is the one in vogue between Christmas and Twelfth Night. Then the children go out in couples, each boy carrying an earthenware pot, over which a bladder is stretched, with a piece of stick tied in the middle. When this stick is twirled about, a not very melodious grumbling sound proceeds from the contrivance, which is known by the name of ‘Rommelpot.’ By going about in this manner the children are able to collect some few pence to buy bread–or gin–for their fathers. When they stop before any one’s house, they drawl out, ‘Give me a cent, and I will pass on, for I have no money to buy bread.’ The origin both of the custom and song is shrouded in mystery.[Footnote: A Society of Research into old folklore and folk-song has recently been founded by some of the leading Dutch literary authorities, who also propose to publish a little periodical in which all these customs will be collected and noted.]
Besides the customs in vogue at such festive seasons as Whitsuntide, Easter, and Christmas, there are yet others of more everyday occurrence which are well worth the knowing. In Overyssel, for instance, we find a very sensible one indeed. It is usual there when a family remove to another part of the village, or when they settle elsewhere, for the people living in the neighbourhood to bring them presents to help furnish their new house. Sometimes these presents include poultry or even a pig, which, though they do not so much furnish the house as the table, prove nevertheless very acceptable. As soon as all the moving is over and they are comfortably installed in their new home, the next thing to do is to invite all the neighbours to a party.
This is a very important social duty and ought on no account to be omitted, as it entitles host and hostess to the help of all their guests in the event of illness or adversity taking place in their family. If, however, they do not conform to this social obligation, their neighbours and friends stand aloof, and do not so much as move a finger to help them. Should one of the family fall ill, the four nearest male neighbours are called in. These men fetch the doctor, and do all the nursing. They will even watch by the invalid at night, and so long as the illness lasts they undertake all the farm-work. Sometimes they will go on working the farm for years, and when a widow is left with young children in straitened circumstances, these ‘Noodburen’ (‘neighbours in need’) will help her in all possible ways, and take all the business and worry off her hands.
[Illustration: Rommel Pot.]
In case of a marriage, too, the neighbours do the greater part of the preparations. They invite the relations and friends to come to the wedding, and make ready the feast. The invitations are always given by word of mouth, and two young men[Footnote: In Gelderland we find this same custom and also in Friesland, but in this last-named province the invitation is given by two young girls.] nearly related to the bride and bridegroom are appointed to go round from house to house to bid the people come. They are dressed for this purpose in their best Sunday clothes, and wear artificial flowers and six peacock’s feathers in their caps. The invitation is made in poetry, in which the assurance is conveyed that there will be plenty to eat and plenty of gin and beer to drink, and that whatever they may have omitted to say will be told by the bride and bridegroom at the feast. This verse in the native patois is very curious–
‘GOEN DAG!
‘Daor stao’k op minen staf
En weet niet wat ik zeggen mag,
Nou hek me weer bedach
En weet ik wat ik zeggen mag
Hier sturt ons Gut yan Vente als brugom En Mientje Elschot as de brud,
Ende’ noget uwder ut
Margen vrog on tien ur
Op en tonne bier tiene twalevenne, Op en anker win, vif, zesse
En en wanne vol rozimen.
De zult by Venterboer verschinen
Met de husgezeten
En nums vergeten,
Vrog kommen en late bliven
Anders kun wy t nie ‘t op krigen
Lustig ezongen, vrolik esprongen, Springen met de beide beene,
En wat ik nog hebbe vergeten
Zult ow de Brogom ende Brud verbeten. Hej my elk nuw wal verstaan
Dan laot de fles um de taofel gaon
‘GOOD DAY!
‘I rest here on my stick,
I don’t know what to say,
Now I have thought of it
And know what I may say:
Here sent us Gart van Vente, the bridegroom, And Mientje Elschot, the bride,
To invite you
To-morrow morning at ten o’clock
To empty ten or twelve barrels of beer, Five or six hogsheads of wine,
And a basket full of dried grapes. You will come to the house of Venterboer With all your inmates
And forget nobody.
Come early and remain late,
Else we can’t swallow it all down. Then sing cheerfully, leap joyfully,
Leap with both your legs.
And, what I have yet forgotten,
Think of the bridegroom and bride. If you have understood me well
Let pass the bottle round the table.’
The day before the wedding is to take place the bridegroom and some of his friends arrive at the bride’s house in a cart, drawn by four horses, to bring away the bride and her belongings. These latter are a motley collection, for they consist not only of her clothes, bed and bed-curtains, but her spinning-wheel, linen-press full of linen, and also a cow. After everything has been loaded upon the cart, and the young men have refreshed themselves with ‘rystebry’ (rice boiled with sweet milk), they drive away in state, singing as they go. The following day the bride is married from the house of her parents-in-law, and as it often happens that the young couple live with the bridegroom’s people, it is only natural that they like to have the house in proper order before the arrival of the wedding-guests, who begin to appear as soon as eight o’clock in the morning. When all the invited guests are assembled and have partaken of hot gin mixed with currants, handed round in two-handled pewter cups, kept especially for these occasions, the whole party goes, about eleven o’clock, to the ‘Stadhuis,’ or Town Hall, where the couple are married before the Burgomaster, and afterwards to the church, where the blessing is given upon their union. On returning home the mid-day meal is ready, and, on this festive occasion, consists of ham, potatoes, and salt fish, and the clergyman is also honoured with an invitation to the gathering. The rest of the day is spent in rejoicings, in which eating and drinking take the chief part. The bride changes her outer apparel about four times during the day, always in public, standing before her linen-press. The day is wound up with a dance, for which the village fiddler provides the music, the bride opening the ball with one of the young men who invited the guests, and she then presents him with a fine linen handkerchief as a reward for his invaluable services on the occasion.
In Friesland a curious old custom still exists, called the ‘Joen-piezl,’ which furnishes the clue to an odd incident in Mrs. Schreiner’s ‘Story of an African Farm.’ When a man and girl are about to be married, they must first sit up for a whole night in the kitchen with a burning candle on the table between them. By the time the candle is burnt low in its socket they must have found out whether they really are fond of each other.
The marriage customs in North and South Holland are very different to the former. As soon as a couple are ‘aangeteekend,’ i.e. when the banns are published for the first time (which does not happen in church, but takes the form of a notice put up at the Town Hall), and have returned from the ‘Stadhuis,’ they drive about and take a bag of sweets (‘bruidsuikers’) to all their friends. On the wedding-day, after the ceremony is over, the bride and bridegroom again drive out together in a ‘chaise’–a high carriage on very big wheels, with room for but two persons. The horse’s head, the whip, and the reins are all decorated with flowers and coloured ribbons. The wedding-guests drive in couples behind the bride and bridegroom’s ‘chaise,’ and the progress is called ‘Speuleryden.’ Sometimes they drive for miles across country, stopping at every _cafe_ to drink brandy and sugar, and when they pass children on the road these call out to them, ‘Bruid, bruid, strooi je suikers uit’ (‘Bride, bride, strew your sugars about.’) Handfuls of sweets will thereupon be seen flying through the air and rolling about the ground, while the children tumble over each other in their eager haste to collect as many of these sweets as they can. Sometimes as much as twenty-five pounds of sweets are thus scattered upon the roadside for the village children. Such a wedding is quite an event in the lives of these little ones, and they will talk for weeks to come about the amount of sweets they were able to procure.
[Illustration: A Hindeloopen Lady in National Costume.]
[Illustration: Rural Costume–Cap with Ruche of Fur.]
At Ryswyk, a little village near The Hague, and in most villages in Westland, South Holland, the bride and bridegroom present to the Burgomaster and Wethouders, and also to the ‘Ambtenaar van den Burgerlyken Stand’ who marries them at the ‘Stadhuis,’ a bag of these sweets, while one bearing the inscription, ‘Compliments of bride and bridegroom,’ is given to the officiating clergyman immediately after the ceremony in church. On their way home all along the road they strew ‘suikers’ out of the carriage windows for the gaping crowds. Some of the less well-to-do farmers, and those who live near large towns, give their wedding-parties at a _cafe_ or ‘uitspanning.’ This word means literally a place where the horse is taken out of the shafts, but it is also a restaurant with a garden attached to it, in which there are swings and seesaws, upon which the guests disport themselves during the afternoon, while in the evening a large hall in the building is arranged for the ball, for that is the conclusion of every ‘Boeren bruiloft.’ Very often the ball lasts till the cock-crowing, and then, if the ‘Bruiloft houers’ are Roman Catholics, it is no uncommon practice first to go to church and ‘count their beads’ before they disperse on their separate ways to begin the duties of a new day.
A birth is naturally an occasion that calls for very festive celebration. When the child is about a week old, its parents send round to all their friends to come and rejoice with them. The men are invited ‘op een lange pyp en een bitterje,’ the women for the afternoon ‘op suikerdebol.’ At twelve o’clock the men begin to arrive, and are immediately provided with a long Gouda pipe, a pouch of tobacco, and a cut glass bottle containing gin mixed with aromatic bitters. While they smoke, they talk in voices loud enough to make any one who is not acquainted with a farmer’s mode of speech think that a great deal of quarrelling is going on in the house. This entertainment lasts till seven o’clock, when all the men leave and the room is cleared, though not ventilated, and the table is rearranged for the evening’s rejoicings.
Dishes of bread and butter, flat buttered rusks liberally spread with ‘muisjes’ (sugared aniseed–the literal translation is ‘mice’), together with tarts and sweets of all descriptions, are put out in endless profusion on all the best china the good wife possesses. For each of the guests two of these round flat rusks are provided, two being the correct number to take, for more than two would be considered greedy, and to eat only one would be sure to offend the hostess. Eating and drinking, for ‘Advocatenborrel’ (brandy and eggs) is also served, go on for the greater part of the afternoon. The mid-day meal is altogether dispensed with on such a day, and, judging by appearances, one cannot say that the guests look as if they had missed it!
It is quite the national custom to eat rusks with ‘muisjes’ on on these occasions, and these little sweets are manufactured of two kinds. The sugar coating is smooth when the child is a girl, and rough and prickly like a chestnut burr when the child is a boy; and when one goes to buy ‘muisjes’ at a confectioner’s he is always asked whether boys’ or girls’ ‘muisjes’ are required. Hundreds-and-thousands, the well-known decoration on buns and cakes in an English pastry-cook’s shop, bear the closest resemblance to these Dutch ‘muisjes.’
When a little child is born into a family of the better classes, the servants are treated to biscuits and ‘mice’ on that day; while in the very old-fashioned Dutch families there is still another custom, that of offermg ‘Kandeel,’ a preparation of eggs and Rhine wine or hock, on the first day the young mother receives visitors, and it is specially made for these occasions by the ‘Baker’ nurse.
Funeral processions are a very mournful sight on all occasions, but a Dutch funeral depresses one for about a month after. The hearse is all hung with black draperies, while on the box sits the coachman wearing a large black hat called ‘Huilebalk.’ From the rim overlapping the face hangs a piece of black cord. This he holds in his mouth to prevent the hat from falling off his head. The hearse itself is generally embellished by the images of grinning skulls, though the carriages following the hearse have no distinctive mark. If such a funeral procession happens to come along the road you yourself are going, you may be sure of enjoying its company the whole way, for the horses are only allowed to walk, never trot, and it takes hours to get to the cemetery. In former days the horses were specially shod for this occasion in such a way that they went lame on one leg. This end was achieved by driving the nail of the shoe into the animal’s foot, for people thought this added to the doleful aspect of the _coretge_ as it advanced slowly along the road. Happily this cruelty is now dispensed with, and indeed is entirely forbidden by the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animais, but the ugly aspect of the hearses remains the same.
[Illustration: An Overyssel Peasant Woman.]
At a death, the relatives of the deceased have large cards printed, announcing the family loss. These cards are taken round to every house in the neighbourhood by a man specially hired for the purpose. This man, called an ‘Aanspreker,’ carries a list of the names and addresses of the people on whom he has to leave the cards; if the people sending out the cards have friends in any other street of the town, a card is left at every house in that street.
[Illustration: Zeeland Children in State.]
If the deceased was an officer, the cards, beside being sent round in the neighbourhood, are left at every officer’s house throughout the town. To whichever profession the deceased belonged, to the people of that profession the cards are sent. A Minister of State or any other person occupying a very high position sends cards to every house in the town and suburbs.
In a village or country place a funeral is rather a popular event, and the preparations for it somewhat resemble the preparations for a feast. This, for instance, is the case in Overyssel. When one of a family dies, the nearest relatives immediately call in the neighbouring women, and these take upon themselves all the necessary arrangements. They send round messages announcing the death and day of interment; they buy coffee, sugar-candy, and a bottle of gin, wherewith to refresh themselves while making the shroud and dressing the dead body; and the next morning they take care that the church bells are duly rung, and, in the afternoon, when the relations and friends come to offer their condolences, they serve them, as they sit round the bier, with black bread and coffee. When the plates and cups are empty the visitors leave again without having spoken a word.
On the day of the funeral, the guests assemble at two o’clock in the afternoon. They first sit round the tables and eat and drink in silence, and when the first batch have satisfied their appetites they move away and make room for others. After this meal all walk round the coffin, and repeat, one after another, ‘Twas een goed mensch,’ (‘He or she was a good man or woman,’ as the case may be). Then the lid of the coffin is fastened down with twelve wooden pegs, which the most honoured guest is allowed to hammer in, and the coffin is forthwith placed on an ordinary farm-cart. The nearest relations get in, too, and sit on the coffin, and the other women on the cart facing the coffin. This custom is adhered to, notwithstanding the prohibition by law to sit on any conveyance carrying a coffin. The women are in mourning from tip to toe, and closely enveloped in black merino shawls, which they wear over their heads. The men follow on foot, and it is a picturesque though melancholy sight to watch these funeral processions, always at close of day, solemnly wending their way along the road, the dark figures of the women silhouetted against a sky all aglow with those glorious sunsets for which Overyssel is famous.
Chapter X
Kermis and St. Nicholas
Of all the festivals and occasions of popular rejoicing and merriment in Holland none can compare with the Kermis and the Festival of St. Nicholas, which are in many ways peculiarly characteristic of Dutch life and Dutch love for primitive usage. The Kermis is particularly popular, because of the manifold amusements which are associated with it, and because it unites all classes of the population in the common pursuit of unsophisticated pleasure. As its name implies, the Kermis (‘Kerk-mis’) has a religious origin, being named after the chief part of the Church service, the mass. Just as the Feast of St. Baro received the name ‘Bamisse,’ so that of the consecration of the church was called the ‘Church-mass,’ or ‘Kerk-mis.’ In ancient times, if a church was consecrated on the name-day of a certain saint the church was also dedicated to that saint. Such a festival was a chief festival, or ‘Hoof feest,’ for a church, and it was not only celebrated with great pomp and solemnity, but amusements of all kinds were added to give the celebration a more festive character. In large towns there were Kermissen at different times of the year in different parishes, for each church was dedicated to a different saint, so that there were as many dedicatory feasts in a town as there were churches in it.
At a very early period in the nation’s history the Church-masses began to wear a more worldly character, for the merchants made them an occasion for introducing their wares and trading with the people, just as they did at the ordinary ‘year-markets.’ These year-markets always fell on the same day as the Kermissen, but they had a different origin. They were held by permission of the Sovereign, and were first instituted to encourage trade; but gradually the Kermis and the year-market went hand-in-hand, for the people could no longer imagine a year-market without the Kermis amusements, or a Kermis without booths and stalls, so if there was not sufficient room for the latter to be built on the streets or squares, the priest allowed them to be put up in the churchyard or sometimes even in the church. Moreover, if it was not possible to have the year-market in the same week as the Kermis, then the Kermis was put off to suit the year-market, and these latter were of great aid to the religious festivals, for they attracted a greater number of people, and as dispensations were given for attending the masses both the churches and the markets benefited. The mass lasted eight days, and the year-market as long as the Church festival. The Church protected the year-markets, and rang them in. With the first stroke of the Kermis clock the year-market was opened and the first dance commenced, followed by a grand procession, in which all the principal people of the town took part, and when the last stroke died away white crosses were nailed upon all the bridges, and on the gates of the town. These served both as a passport and also as a token of the ‘markt vrede’ (market peace), so that any one seeing the cross knew that he might enter the town and buy and sell _ad libitum_, also that his peace and safety were guaranteed, and that any one who disturbed the ‘markt vrede’ would be banished from the place, and not be allowed to come back another year. In some places this yearly market was named, after the crosses, ‘Cruyce-markt.’
Very festive is the appearance of a town in the Kermis week. On the opening day, at twelve o’clock, the bells of the cathedral or chief church are set ringing, and this is the sign for the booths to be opened and the ‘Kermispret’ to begin. Everywhere tempting stores are displayed to view, and although a scent of oil and burning fat pervades the air, nobody seems to mind that, for it only increases the delight the Kermis has in store for them. The stalls are generally set out in two rows. The most primitive of these is the stall of hard-boiled eggs and pickled gherkins, whose owner is probably a Jew, and pleasant sounds his hoarse voice while praising his wares high above all others. If he does prevail upon you to come and try one of his eggs and gherkins it only adds more relish to your meal when he tells you of the man who only paid one cent for a large gherkin which really cost two, and although he already had put it in his mouth he made him put the other part back. Or when you go to eat ‘poffertjes,’ which look so tempting, and with the first bite find a quid of tobacco in the inoffensive-looking little morsel, do not let this trifling incident disturb your equanimity, but try another booth. It is quite worth your while to stand in front of a ‘poffertjeskraam’ and see how they are made. The batter is simply buckwheat-meal mixed with water, and some yeast to make it light. Over a bright fire of logs is placed a large, square, iron baking-sheet with deep impressions for the reception of the batter. On one side sits a woman on a high stool, with a bowl of the mixture by her side and a large wooden ladle in her hand. This she dips into the batter, bringing it out full, then with a quick sweep of the arm she empties its contents into the hollows of the baking-sheet. A man standing by turns them dexterously one by one with a steel fork, and a moment later he pricks them six at a time on to the fork; this he docs four times to get a plateful, and then he hands it over to another man inside the booth, who adds a pat of butter and a liberal sprinkling of sugar. The ‘wafelkramen’ are not so largely patronized, as the price of these delicacies is rather too high for the slender purses of the average ‘Kermis houwer,’ but ‘oliebollen’–round ball-shaped cakes swimming in oil–are within the reach of all, as they cost but a cent apiece. Servants and their lovers, after satisfying their appetites with these ‘oliebollen,’ go and have a few turns in the roundabouts by way of a change, and then hurry to the fish stall, where they eat a raw salted herring to counteract the effects of the earlier dissipation. The more respectable servant, however, turns up her nose at the herrings, and goes in for smoked eel. These fish-stalls are very quaint in appearance, for they are hung with garlands of dried ‘scharretje’ (a white, thin, leathery-looking fish), which dangle in front, and form a most original decoration. In the towns a separate day and evening are set apart for the servant classes to go to the fair, and there is also a day for the _elite_.
At the commencement of the reign of King William III. the whole Court, including the King and Queen, used to meet at The Hague Kermis on the Lange Voorhout on Thursday afternoons, between two and four o’clock, and walk up and down between the double row of stalls; and in the evening of that day they all visited either the most renowned circus of the season or went to see the ‘Kermis stuk,’ or special play acted in fan-time.
The servants’ evening, as it is held in Rotterdam, is the most characteristic. It is an evening shunned by the more respectable people, for the ‘Kermisgangers are a very rowdy lot. They amuse themselves chiefly by running along the streets in long rows, arm-in-arm, singing ‘Hossen–hossen-hossen!’ They also treat each other to ‘Nieuw rood met suiker’–black currants preserved in gin with sugar–until they are all quite tipsy, and woe to any quiet pedestrian who has the misfortune to pass their way, for with loud ‘Hi-has’ they encircle him and make him ‘hos’ with them. The evening is commonly called the ‘Aalbessen (black-currant) hos.’
[Illustration: Kermis: ‘Hossen-Hossen–Hi-Ha!’ _(After the Picture of Van Geldrop_)]
An equally curious but not so bad a custom is the Groninger ‘Koek eten.’ All Groningers are fond of cake, and the ‘Groninger kauke’ is a widespread and very tasty production; but for this special purpose is used the ‘ellekoek,’ a very long thin cake, which, as its name implies, is sold by the yard. It is very tough, and just thin enough to hold in a large mouth, and when a man chooses a girl to keep Kermis with him they must first see whether they will suit one another as ‘Vryer and Vryster’ by eating ‘ellekoek.’ This is done in the following manner. They stand opposite one another, and each begins at an end and eats towards the other. They may not touch the cake with their hands, but must hold it between their teeth all the while they are eating, and if they are unable to accomplish this feat and kiss when they get to the middle it is a sure sign that they are not suited to one another, and so the partnership is not concluded. In some parts of Friesland and in Voorburg, one of the many villages near The Hague, there is another cake custom, the ‘Koekslaen,’ which is a sort of cake lottery. The cakes are all put out on large blocks, which are higher at the sides than in the middle, and, for twopence, any one who likes may try his luck and see if he can break the cake in two by striking it with a stout stick provided by the stall-keeper for the purpose. It is necessary to do this in one blow, for a second try involves the payment of another fee. He who succeeds carries off the broken cake, and receives a second one as a prize. Some men are very clever at this, and manage to carry off a good many prizes.
Just as the Kermis is rung in by the bells, so also it is tolled out again. This, however, is not an official proceeding, but a custom among the schoolboys of the Gymnasium and Higher Burgher Schools. At The Hague, on the last day of the fair, all the ‘schooljeugd’ assembled in the Lange Voorhout, dressed in black, just as they would dress for a funeral, while four of them carried a bier, hung with wreaths and black draperies. On this bier was supposed to rest all that remained of the Kermis. In front of the bier walked a boy ringing a large bell, and proclaiming, ‘De Kermis is dood, de Kermis wordt begraven’ (‘The Kermis is dead, and is going to be buried’). Behind the bier came all the other boys with the most mournful expression upon their faces they could muster for the occasion, and thus they carried the ‘dead fair’ through the principal streets of the town, and at last buried it in the ‘Scheveningsche Boschjes.’ But this custom is now a thing of the past, for the Kermis at The Hague has been abolished, even as it has been abolished in most of the other towns throughout the kingdom, for all authorities were agreed that fair-time promoted vice and drunkenness, and the old-fashioned Kermis is now only to be found in Rotterdam, Leyden, Delft, and some of the smaller provincial towns and villages.
The 6th of December is the day dedicated to St. Nicholas, and its vigil is one of the most characteristic of Dutch festivals. It is an evening for family reunions, and is filled with old recollections for the elders and new delights for the younger people and children. Just as English people give presents at Christmas time, so do the Dutch at St. Nicholas, only in a different way, for St. Nicholas presents must be hidden and disguised as much as possible, and be accompanied by rhymes explaining what the gift is and for whom St. Nicholas intends it. Sometimes a parcel addressed to one person will finally turn out to be for quite a different member of the family than the one who first received it, for the address on each wrapper in the various stages of unpacking makes it necessary for the parcel to change hands as many times as there are papers to undo. The tiniest things are sent in immense packing-cases, and sometimes the gifts are baked in a loaf of bread or hidden in a turf, and the longer it takes before the present is found the more successful is the ‘surprise.’
The greatest delight to the giver of the parcel is to remain unknown as long as possible, and even if the present is sent from one member of the family to another living in the same house the door-bell is always rung by the servant before she brings the parcel in, to make believe that it has come from some outsider; and if a parcel has to be taken to a friend’s house it is very often entrusted to a passer-by, with the request to leave it at the door and ring the bell. In houses where there are many children, some of the elders dress up as the good Bishop St. Nicholas and his black servant. The children are always very much impressed by the knowledge St. Nicholas shows of all their shortcomings, for he usually reminds them of their little failings, and gives them each an appropriate lecture. Sometimes he makes them repeat a verse to him or asks them about their lessons, all of which tends to make the moment of his arrival looked forward to with much excitement and some trembling, for St. Nicholas generally announces at what time he is to be expected, so that all may be in readiness for his reception.
On the eventful evening a large white sheet is laid out upon the floor in the middle of the room, and round it stand all the children with sparkling eyes and flushed faces, eagerly scrutinizing the hand of the clock. As soon as it points to five minutes before the expected time of the Saint’s arrivai they begin to sing songs to welcome him to their midst, and ask him to give as liberally as was his wont, meanwhile praising his goodness and greatness in the most eloquent terms. The first intimation the children get of the Saint’s arrival is a shower of sweets bursting in upon them. Then, amid the general scramble which ensues, St, Nicholas suddenly makes his appearance in full episcopal vestments, laden with presents, while in the rear stands his black servant with an open sack in one hand in which to put all the naughty boys and girls, and a rod in the other which he shakes vigorously from time to time. When the presents have all been distributed, and St. Nicholas has made his adieus, promising to come back the following year, and the children are packed to bed to dream of all the fun they have had, the older people begin to enjoy themselves. First they sit round the table which stands in the middle of the room under the lamp, and partake of tea and ‘speculaas,’ until their own ‘surprises’ begin to arrive. At ten O’clock the room is cleared, the dust-sheet which was laid down for the children’s scramble is taken up, and all the papers and shavings, boxes and baskets that contained presents are removed from the floor; the table is spread with a white table-cloth; ‘letterbanket’ with hot punch or milk chocolate is provided for the guests; and, when all have taken their seats, a dish of boiled chestnuts, steaming hot, is brought in and eaten with butter and salt.
Cigars, the usual resource of Dutchmen when they do not know what to do with themselves, do not form a feature of this memorable evening (memorable for this fact also), not so much out of deference to the ladies who are in their midst as for the reason that they are too fully occupied with other and even pleasanter employments.
[Illustration: St. Nicholas Going His Rounds on December 5th.]
The personality of St. Nicholas, as now known by Dutch children, is of mixed origin, for not merely the Bishop of Lycie, but Woden, the Frisian god of the elements and of the harvest, figures largely in the legends attached to his name. Woden possessed a magic robe which enabled him when arrayed in it to go to any place in the world he wished in the twinkling of an eye. This same power is attached to the ‘Beste tabbaard’ of St. Nicholas, as may be seen from the verse addressed to him:–
‘Sint Niklaas, goed, heilig man
Trek je beste tabberd an
Ryd er mee naar Amsterdam
Van Amsterdam naar Spanje.’
[St. Nicholas, good, holy man
Put on your best gown
Ride with it to Amsterdam,
From Amsterdam to Spain.]
The horse Sleipnir, on whose back Woden took his autumn ride through the world, has been converted into the horse of St. Nicholas, on which the Saint rides about over the roofs of the houses to find out where the good and where the naughty children live. In pagan days a sheaf of corn was always left out on the field in harvest time for Woden’s horse, and the children of the present day still carry out the same idea by putting a wisp of hay in their shoes for the four-footed friend of the good Saint. The black servant who now always accompanies St. Nicholas is an importation from America, for the Pilgrim Fathers carried their St. Nicholas festival with them to the New Country, and some of their descendants who came to live in Holland brought ‘Knecht Ruprecht’ with them, and so added another feature to the St. Nicholas festivity.
What the Dutch originally knew of the life and works of ‘Dominus Sanctus Nicolaus’ was told them by the Spaniards at the time of their influence in Holland, and so it is believed that the Saint was born at Myra, in Lycie, and lived in the commencement of the fourth century, in the reign of Constantine the Great. From his earliest youth he showed signs of great piety and self-denial, refusing, it is said, even when quite a tiny child, to take food more than once a day on fast days! His whole life was devoted to doing good, and even after his death he is credited with performing many miracles. Maidens and children chiefly claim him as their patron saint, but he also guards sailors, and legend asserts that many a ship on the point of being wrecked or stranded has been saved by his timely influence. During his lifetime the circumstance took place for which he was ever afterwards recognized as the maidens’ guardian. A certain man had lost all his money, and to rid himself from his miserable situation he determined to sell his three beautiful daughters for a large sum. St. Nicholas heard of his intention, and went to the man’s house in the night, taking with him some of the money left him by his parents, and dropped it through a broken window-pane. The following night St. Nicholas again took a purse of gold to the poor man’s house, and managed to drop it through the chimney, but when he reached the man’s door on the third night it was suddenly opened from the inside, and the poor man rushed out, caught St. Nicholas by his robe, and, falling down on his knees before him, exclaimed, ‘O Nicholas, servant of the Lord, wherefore dost thou hide thy good deeds?’ and from that time forth every one knew it was St. Nicholas who brought presents during the night. In pictures one often sees St. Nicholas represented with the threefold gift in his hand, in the form of three golden apples, fruits of the tree of life. Another very well known Dutch picture is St. Nicholas standing by a tub, from which are emerging three bags. About fifty years ago such a picture was to be seen in Amsterdam on the corner house between the Dam and the Damrak, with the inscription, ‘Sinterklaes.’ The story runs that three boys once lost their way in a dark wood, and begged a night’s lodging with a farmer and his wife. While the children were asleep the wicked couple murdered them, hoping to rob them of all they had with them, but they soon discovered that the lads had no treasure at all, and so, to guard against detection, they salted the dead bodies, and put them in the tub with the pigs’ flesh. That same afternoon, while the farmer was at the market, St. Nicholas appeared to him in his episcopal robes, and asked him whether he had any pork to sell. The man replied in the negative, when St. Nicholas rejoined, ‘What of the three young pigs in your tub? ‘This so frightened the farmer that he confessed his wicked deed, and implored forgiveness. St. Nicholas thereupon accompanied him to his house, and waved his staff over the meat-tub, and immediately the three boys stepped forth well and hearty, and thanked St. Nicholas for restoring them to life.
The birch rod, which naughty Dutch children have still to fear, has also a legendary origin, and is not merely an imaginary addition to the attributes of the Saint. A certain abbot would not allow the responses of St. Nicholas to be sung in his church, notwithstanding the repeated requests of the monks of his order, and he dismissed them at last with the words, ‘I consider this music worldly and profane, and shall never give permission for it to be used in my church.’ These words so enraged St. Nicholas that he came down from the heavens at night when the abbot was asleep, and, dragging him out of bed by the hair of his head, beat him with a birch rod he carried in his hand till he was more dead than alive. The lesson proved salutary, and from that day forth the responses of St. Nicholas formed a part of the service.
The St. Nicholas festival has always been kept with the greatest splendour at Amsterdam. It was there that the festival was first instituted, and the first church built which was dedicated to his name; for when Gysbrecht III., Heer van Amstel, had the Amstel dammed, many people came to live there, and houses arose up on all sides, and naturally, when the want of a church was felt, and it was built, the good Nicholas was chosen the patron Saint of the town. On his name-day masses were held in the church, and the usual Kermis observed, Booths and stalls were set out in two rows all along the Damrak, where the people of Amsterdam could buy sweets and toys for their children. Special cakes were baked in the form of a bishop, and named, after St. Nicholas, ‘Klaasjes.’ They were looked upon as an offering dedicated to the Saint according to the old custom of their forefathers, which can be again traced to the service of Woden.
Not only Amsterdammers, however, but people from all the neighbouring towns flocked to the St. Nicholas market, and followed the Amsterdammers’ example of filling their children’s shoes with cakes and toys, always telling them the old legend that St. Nicholas himself brought these presents through the chimney and put them in their shoes. During and after the Reformation this now popular festival had to bear a great deal of opposition, for authors and preachers alike agreed that it was a foolish feast, and led to superstition and idolatry. Hence the decree was issued, in the year 1622, that no cakes might be baked and no Kermis held, and even the children were forbidden to put out their shoes as they were accustomed to do. But for once in a way people were sensible enough to understand that giving their children a pleasant evening had nothing to do either with superstition or idolatry, and so the festival lived on with Protestants as well as Roman Catholics, although one point was gained by the Reformers, in that St. Nicholas was no longer looked upon as holy and worshipped, but was only honoured as the patron Saint and guardian of their children.
The fairs which once belonged to the festival of St. Nicholas are no longer held in the street, at any rate in the larger towns, but the exchange of presents is as universal as ever, and the shops look as festive as shops in England do at Christmas-time. In many other ways, indeed, St. Nicholas corresponds to Christmas in other countries, and Protestants and Catholics alike observe it, although there is no religions significance in the festival. The season, too, has its special cakes and sweets. There are the flat hard cakes, made in the shapes of birds, beasts, and fishes–the so-called ‘Klaasjes’–for they are no longer baked only in the form of a bishop, as they used to be. Then there is ‘Letterbanket,’ made, as the name implies, in the form of letters, so that any one who likes can order his name in cake, and the ‘Marsepein’ (marzipan) is now made in all possible shapes, though formerly only in heart-shaped sweets, ornamented with little turtle-doves made of pink sugar, or a flaming heart on a little altar. These sweets, it is said, were invented by St. Nicholas himself, when he was a bishop, for the benefit and use of lovers; for St. Nicholas held the office of ‘Hylik-maker,’ and many a couple were united by him. That is why the confectioners bake ‘Vryers and Vrysters’ of cake at St. Nicholas time. If a young man wanted to find out whether a girl cared for him, he used to send her a heart of ‘Marsepein’ and a ‘Vryer’ of cake. Should she accept this present he knew he had nothing to fear, but if she declined to accept it he knew there was no hope for him in that quarter. These large dolls of cake were usually decorated with strips of gold paper pasted over them, but this fashion has gone out of use, and has caused the death of another old custom; for it used to be a great treat for children and young people to go and help the confectioners (who wrote all their customers an invitation for that evening) on the 4th of December to prepare their goods for the ‘etalage.’ Any cake that broke while in their hands they were allowed to eat, and no doubt many did break.
It is not likely that this celebration of St. Nicholas will ever be abolished, and the shopkeepers do their best to perpetuate it by offering new attractions for the little folk every year. Figures of St. Nicholas, life-size, are placed before their windows; and some even have a man dressed like the good Saint, who goes about the streets, mounted on a white steed, while behind him follows a cart laden with parcels, which have been ordered and are left in this way at the different houses. Crowds of children, singing, shouting, and clapping their hands, follow in the rear, adding to the noise and bustle of the already crowded streets, but people are too good-natured at St. Nicholas time to expostulate. Smiling faces, mirth, and jollity abound everywhere, and good feeling unites all men as brethren on this most popular of all the Dutch festivals.
Chapter XI
National Amusements
Holland, like other countries, is indebted to primitive and classic times for most of its national amusements and children’s games, which have been handed down from generation to generation. Many of the same games have been played under many differing Governments and opposing creeds. Hollander and Spaniard, Protestant and Catholic alike have found common ground in those games and sports which afford so welcome a break in daily work.
‘Hinkelbaan,’ for example, found its way into the Netherlands from far Phoenicia, whose people invented it. The game of cockal, ‘Bikkelen,’ still played by Dutch village children on the blue doorsteps of old-fashioned houses, together with ‘Kaatsen,’ was introduced into Holland by Nero Claudius Druses, and it is stated that he laid out the first ‘Kaatsbaan.’ The Frisian peasant is very fond of this game; and also of ‘Kolven,’ the older form of golf; and often on a Sunday morning after church he may be seen dressed in his velvet suit and low-buckled shoes, engaged in these outdoor sports. About a century ago a game called ‘Malien’ was universally played in South Holland and Utrecht. For this it was necessary to have a large piece of ground, at one end of which poles were erected, joined together by a porch. The bail was driven by a ‘Mahen kolf,’ a long stick with an iron head and a leather grip, and it had to touch both poles and roll through the porch. The ‘Maheveld’ at The Hague and the ‘Mahebaan’ at Utrecht remind one of the places in which this game was played.
In Friesland the Sunday game for youths is ‘Het slingeren met Dimterkoek’–throwing Deventer cake. Four persons are required to play this game. The players divide themselves into opposite parties, and play against each other. First they toss up to see which of the parties and which of the boys shall begin. He on whom the lot falls is allowed to give his turn to his opponent, which he often does if, on feeling the cake, he notices that it is soft and liable to break easily. If, on the contrary, it is hard, he keeps the first throw for himself. Holding the cake firmly in his right hand, he takes a little run, bends backward, and with a sudden swing throws the cake forward (as one throws a stone) so that it flies away a good distance, breaking off just at the grip. This piece, called ‘hanslik,’ or handpiece, he must keep in his hand, for if he drops it he must let his turn pass by once, and his throw is not counted. The distance of the throw is now measured and noted down, whereupon one of the opposing party takes the piece of cake and throws it, and so it goes on alternately till each has had a turn. The distances of the throws of every two boys are counted together, and the side which has the most points wins.
There are also games played only at certain seasons of the year, as the ‘Eiergaren’ at Easter-time. This was very popular even in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. On Easter Monday all the village people betake themselves to the principal street of the ‘dorp’ to watch the ‘eiergaarder.’ At about two o’clock in the afternoon the innkeeper who provides the eggs appears upon the scene with a basket containing twenty-five. These he places on the road at equal distances of twelve feet from each other. In the middle of the road is then placed a tub of water, on which floats a very large apple, the largest he has been able to procure. Two men are chosen from the ranks of the villagers. The one is led to the tub, his hands are tied behind his back, and he is told to eat the floating apple; the other has to take the basket in his hand and pick up while running all the eggs and arrange them in the basket before the apple is eaten. He who finishes his task first is the winner, and carries off the basket of eggs as a prize. It provokes great fun to see the man trying to get hold of the floating-apple, which escapes so easily from the grasp of his teeth, but some men are wise enough to push the apple against the side of the tub, and of course as soon as they have taken one bite the rest is easily eaten. When the game is over, the greater number of the villagers go and drink to the good health of the winner at the public-house, and so the innkeeper makes a good thing out of this custom also, and for a game like this it is certainly wise to refresh one’s self _after_ the event. Skittles and billiards are very popular with the peasant and working classes on Sunday afternoons, the only free time a labourer has for recreation. Games of chance, also, in which skill is at a minimum, are as numerous in Holland as in any other country.
Children’s games naturally occupy a large share in young Netherlands life, especially outdoor romping games. Of indoor games there are very few, a fact which may, perhaps, be accounted for by the custom of allowing children to play in the streets. In former days children of all classes played together in outdoor sports and games, and developed both their muscles and their republican character. Even Prince Frederik Hendrik (who was brother to and succeeded Prince Maurits in 1625), when at school at Leyden, mixed freely with his more humble companions, and was often mistaken for an ordinary schoolboy, and an old woman once sharply rebuked him for daring to use her boat-hook to fish his ball out of the water into which it had fallen. Nor did she notice to whom she was speaking until a passer-by called her attention to the fact that it was the Prince, whereupon the poor old soul became so frightened that she durst not venture out of her house for weeks from imaginary fear of falling into the clutches of the law, and ending her days in prison.
Games may be divided into two classes, those played with toys and those for which no toys are needed; but whatever the games may be they all have their special seasons. Once a man wrote an almanack on children’s games, and noted down ail the different sports and their seasons, but, as the poet Huggens truly said,
‘De kindren weten tyd van knickeren en kooten, En zonder almanack en ist hen nooit ontschoten,’
which, freely translated, means that children know which games are in season by intuition, and do not need an almanack, so he might have saved himself the trouble. ‘The children know the time to play marbles and “Kooten,” and without an almanack have not forgotten.’
In the eighteenth century driving a hoop was as popular an amusement with children as it is now, only then it was also a sport, and prizes were given to the most skilful. In fact, hoop-races were held, and boys and girls alike joined in them. They had to drive their hoops a certain distance, and the one who first reached the goal received a silver coin for a prize. This coin was fastened to the hoop as a trophy, and the more noise a hoop made while rolling over the streets the greater the honour for the owner of it, for it showed that a great many prizes had been gained. In Drenthe the popular game for boys is ‘Man ik sta op je blokhuis,’ similar to ‘I am the King of the Castle,’ but there is also the ‘Windspel.’ For the latter a piece of wood and a ball are necessary. The wood is placed upon a pole and the ball laid on one side of it, then with a stick the child strikes as hard as possible the other side of the piece of wood, at the same time calling ‘W-i-n-d,’ and the ball flies up into the air, and may be almost lost to sight.
‘Boer lap den Buis,’ an exciting game from a boy’s point of view, is a general favourite in Gelderland and Overyssel. For this the boys build a sort of castle with large stones, and after tossing up to see who is to be ‘Boer,’ the boy on whom the lot has fallen stands in the stone fortress, and the others throw stones at it from a distance, to see whether they can knock bits off it. As soon as one succeeds in doing so he runs to get back his stone, at the same time calling out ‘Boer, lap den buis,’ signifying that the ‘Boer’ must mend the castle. If the ‘Boer’ accomplishes this, and touches the bag before he has picked up his stone, they change places, and the game begins anew.
Little girls of the labouring classes have not much time for games of any sort, for they are generally required at home to act as nursemaids and help in many other duties of the home life, but sometimes on summer afternoons they bring out their younger brothers and sisters, their knitting and a skipping-rope, which they take in turns, and so pass a few pleasant hours free from their share (not an inconsiderable one) of household cares, or in the evenings, when the younger members of the family are in bed, they will be quite happy with a bit of rope and their skipping songs, of which they seem to know many hundreds, and which might be sung with equal reason to any other game under the sun for all the words have to do with skipping.
After a long spell of rain the first fall of snow is hailed with delight, for it is a sign that frost is not far off. Jack Frost, after several preliminary appearances in December, usually pays his first long visit in January (sometimes, however, this is but a flying visit of two or three days), and, as a rule, a Dutchman may reckon on a good hard winter. As soon, therefore, as he sees the snow he thinks of the good old saying–‘Sneeuw op slik in drie dagen ys dun of dik’ (‘Snow on mud in three days’ time, thin or thick’). Ice is to be expected, and he gets out his skates with all speed. This is one of the few occasions when the people of the Netherlands are enthusiastic. Certainly skating is _the_ national sport. The ditches are always the first to be tried, as the water in them is very shallow, and naturally freezes sooner than the very deep and exposed waters of river and canal, over which the wind, which is always blowing in Holland, has fair play; but when once these are frozen, then skating begins in real earnest. The tracks are all marked out by the Hollandsche Ysvereeniging, a society which was founded in 1889 in South Holland, and which the other provinces have now joined. Finger-posts to point the way are put up by this society at all cross-roads and ditches, with notices to mark the dangerous places, while the newspapers of the day contain reports as to which roads are the best to take, and which trips can be planned. For people living in South Holland the first trip is always to the Vink at Leyden, as it can be reached by narrow streams and ditches, and it is quite a sight to see the skaters sitting at little tables with plates of steaming hot soup before them. The Vink has been famous for its pea soup many years, and has been known as a restaurant from 1768. When the Galgenwater is frozen (the mouth of the Rhine which flows into the sea at Kat wyk), then the Vink has a still gayer appearance, for not only skaters, but pedestrians from Leyden and the villages round about that town, flock to this _cafe_ to watch the skating and enjoy the amusing scenes which the presence of the ice affords them. Then the broad expanse of water, which in summer looks so deserted and gloomy as it flows silently and dreamily towards the sea, is dotted ail over with tents, flags, ‘baanvegers,’ and, if the ice is strong, even sleighs.
Among the peasant classes of South Holland it is the custom, as soon as the ice will bear, to skate to Gouda, men and women together, there to buy long Gouda pipes for the men and ‘Goudsche sprits’ for the women, and then to skate home with these brittle objects without breaking them. As they come along side by side, the farmer holding his pipe high above his head and the woman carefully holding her bag of cakes, every passer-by knocks against them and tries to upset them, but it seldom happens that they succeed in doing so, as a farmer stands very firmly on his skates, and, as a rule, he manages to keep his pipe intact after skating many miles. The longest trip for the people of South Holland, North Holland, and Utrecht, is through these three provinces, and the way over the ice-clad country is quite as picturesque as in summer-time, the little mills, quaint old drawbridges, and rustic farmhouses losing nothing of their charm in winter garb. All along the banks of the canals and rivers little tents are put up to keep out the wind; a roughly fashioned rickety table stands on the ice under the shelter of the matting, and here are sold all manner of things for the skaters to refresh themselves with–hot milk boiled with aniseed and served out of very sticky cups, stale biscuits, and sweet cake. The tent-holders call out their wares in the most poetical language they can muster–
‘Leg ereis an! Leg ereis an!
In het tentje by de man.
Warme melk en zoete koek
En een bevrozen vaatedoek.’
[‘Put up, put up
At the tent with the man;
Warm milk and sweet cake,
And a frozen dish-cloth.’]
and they tell you plainly that you may expect unwashed cups, for the cloth wherewith to wipe them is frozen, as well as the water to cleanse them.
Under the bridges the ice is not always safe, and even if it has become safe the men break it up so that they may earn a few cents by people passing over their roughly constructed gangways, and so boards are laid down by the ‘baanvegers’ for the skaters to pass over without risking their lives. Besides making these wooden bridges, the ‘baanvegers’ keep the tracks clean. Every hundred yards or so one is greeted by the monotonous cry of ‘Denk ereis an de baanveger,’ so that on long trips these sweepers are a great nuisance, for having to get out one’s purse and give them cents greatly impedes progress. The Ice Society has, however, minimized the annoyance by appointing ‘baanvegers’ who work for it and are paid out of the common funds, so that the members of the society who wear their badge can pass a ‘baanveger’ with a clear conscience, while as the result of this combination you can skate over miles of good and well-swept ice without interference for the modest sum of tenpence, this being the cost of membership of the society for the whole season.
[Illustration: Skating to Church.]
The Kralinger Plassen and the Maas near Rotterdam are greatly frequented spots for carnivals on the ice, but the grandest place for skating and ice sports of all kinds is the Zuyder Zee. In a severe winter this large expanse of ice connects instead of dividing Friesland with North Holland. Here we see the little ice-boats flying over the glossy surface as fast as a bird on the wing, and sleighs drawn by horses with waving plumes, while thousands of people flock from Amsterdam to the little Isle of Marken, and the variety of costume and colour swaying to and fro on the fettered billows of the restless inland sea makes it seem for the moment as though the Netherlander’s dream had come true, and Zuyder Zee had really become once more dry land. In winter every one, from the smallest to the greatest, gives himself up to ice-sports, and even the poor are not forgotten. In some villages races are proclaimed, for which the prizes are turfs, potatoes, rice, coals, and other things so welcome to the poor in cold weather. A racer is appolnted for every poor family, and where there are no sons big enough to join in the races, a young man of the better classes generally offers his services, and, when successful, hands his prize over to the family he undertook to help.
Skating is second nature with the Dutch, and as soon as a child can walk it is put upon skates, even though they may often be much too big for it. Moreover, when the ice is good, winter-time affords recreation for the working as well as the leisured classes, for the canals and rivers become roads, and the hard-worked errand-boys, the butchers’ and the bakers’ boys manage to secure many hours of delightful enjoyment as they travel for orders on skates. The milkman also takes his milk-cart round on a sledge, and the farmers skate to market, saving both time and money, for then there is no railway fare to be paid, and a really good skater goes almost as fast as a train in Holland–especially the Frisian farmers, for Frisians are renowned for their swift skating, and the most famous racer of the commencement of the nineteenth century, Kornelis Ynzes Reen, skated four miles in five minutes.
But although the ice affords, and always has afforded, so much pleasure, there are periods in history when the frost caused great anxiety to the people of the Netherlands. The cities Naarden and Dordrecht are easily reached by water, and when that is frozen it would give any one free access to the town, and so in time of war frost was a much-dreaded thing. In the year 1672 this fear was realized, for when the ships of the Geuzen round about Naarden were stuck fast in the ice, and the Zuyder Zee was frozen, the enemy, armed with canoes and battle-axes, came over the ice from the Y and across the Zuyder Zee to Naarden. The best skaters among the Geuzen immediately volunteered to meet the Spaniards on the ice. They took only their swords with them, and while the ships’ cannon had fair play from the bulwarks of the vessels over the heads of the Geuzen into the Spanish ranks, the Geuzen could approach them fearlessly and unmolested for a hand-to-hand fight. The Spaniards, who, besides being very heavily armed were very bad skaters, were soon defeated, for they kept tumbling over each other. The Geuzen pursued them to Amsterdam, and then returned to their ships, where they were greeted with great enthusiasm, and, as the thaw set in the next day, they were happily saved from a renewed attack.
Chapter XII
Music and the Theatre
Singing was one of the principal social pastimes of the Dutch nation during the eighteenth and far into the nineteenth century, and the North Hollander was especially fond of vocal music. When young girls went to spend the evening at the house of a friend they always carried with them their ‘Liederboek ‘–a volume beautifully bound in tortoise-shell covers or mounted with gold or silver. The songs contained in these books were a strange mixture of the gay and grave. Jovial drinking-songs or ‘Kermisliedjes’ would find a place next to a ‘Christian’s Meditation on Death.’ It was an _olla podrida_, in which everybody’s tastes were considered. Recitations were also a feature of these little gatherings.
Nowadays these national songs are rarely heard. French, Italian, and German songs have taken their place, and it is but seldom one hears a real Dutch song at any social gathering. The ‘people,’ too, seem to have forgotten their natural gift of poetry, for the only songs now heard about the streets are badly translated French or English ditties. If England brings out a comic song of questionable art, six months later that song will have made its way to Holland, and will have taken a popular place in a Dutch street musician’s _repertoire;_ it will be whistled in many different keys by butcher and baker boys, and will be heard issuing painfully from the wonderful mechanism of the superfluous concertina. For almost every one in Holland possesses some musical instrument on which he plays, well or otherwise, when his daily work is over, or on Sunday evenings at home. And here a notable characteristic of the Dutch higher classes must be mentioned by way of contrast. Musical though they are, trained as they generally are both to play and sing well, they yet seldom exercise their gifts in a friendly, social, after-dinner way in their own homes. They become, in fact, so critical or so self-conscious that they prefer to pay to hear music rendered by recognized artists, and so a by no means inconsiderable element of geniality is lost to the social and domestic circle.
The decay of folk-song is the more regrettable, since Holland is rich in old ballads, some of which, handed down just as the people used to sing them centuries ago, are quaint, _naive,_ and exceedingly pretty. The melodies have all been put to modern harmonies by able composers, and published for the use of the public.
‘Het daghet in het oosten,
Het lichtis overal,’
is a little jewel of poetic feeling, and the melody is very sweet. The story, like most of the songs of the past troublous centuries, tells of a battlefield where a young girl goes to seek her lover, but finds him dead. So, after burying him with her own white hands, with his sword and his banner by his side, she vows entrance into a convent. The story is a picture in miniature of the times, and as a piece of literature it ranks high.
Music of some sort finds a place in the homes of the poorest, and the concert, theatre, and opera are as much frequented by the humble of the land as by the wealthy and noble born. The servant class on their ‘evening out’ frequently go to the French opera, and there is not a boy on the street but is able to whistle some tune from the great modern operas, such as ‘Faust,’ ‘Lohengrin,’ and other standard works. And no wonder, for the choristers in the operas walk behind fruit-carts all day long, and often call out their wares in the musical tones learnt while following their more select profession as public singers. Some, of course, cannot read a note of music, and the melodies they have to sing have to be drummed, or rather trumpeted, into their ears. To this end they are placed in a row, and a man with a large trumpet stands before them and plays the tune over and over again until they know it off. In the summer-time whole parties of these Jewish youths–for Jewish they chiefly are–go about the woods on their Sabbath day singing the parts they take in the operas in the winter season, and crowds of people flock to hear them, for their voices are really well worth listening to.
Concerts are naturally not so largely patronized by the people as are operas and theatres. In the larger towns of Holland especially theatricals take a very prominent place in popular relaxation, and even the smaller towns and villages, should they lack theatres and be unable to get good theatrical companies to pay them periodical visits, arrange for dramatic performances by local talent. The popularity of the opera may be judged from the fact that at Amsterdam, The Hague, Rotterdam, Groningen, Arnhem and Utrecht, operas in Dutch and French are regularly given, and occasionally works in German and even Italian are produced. Money is scarce in Holland, the people generally have little to spare, so grand opera-houses, such as are thought necessary in most European cities of any pretension to culture, are impossible, and the singers can seldom count on liberal fees. But most of the best works are heard all the same–which, after all, is the principal thing–and the enjoyment and edification which result are not less genuine because of the simplicity of the properties and the humble character of the entire surroundings.
Yet outdoor music possesses a powerful attraction for the Dutch humbler classes, as for the same classes in most, if not all, countries; and when in the summer-time there is music in the Wood at The Hague on Sunday afternoons or Wednesday evenings, the walks round about the ‘Tent’ are alive with servants and their lovers, parading decorously arm-in-arm. Happy fathers, too, with their wives and children in Sunday best, perambulate the grounds or rest on the seats amongst the trees and listen to the ‘Bosch-muziek.’ People of the better class only are members of the ‘Witte Societeit,’ and sit inside the green paling to listen to the music and drink something meanwhile. For it is strange but true, that a Dutchman never seems thoroughly to enjoy himself unless he has liquid of some sort at hand, and never feels really comfortable without his cigar. Indeed, if smoking were abolished from places of public amusement, most Dutchmen would frequent them no more. In winter concerts are given every other Wednesday at The Hague–and what is true of The Hague applies to Amsterdam and all other towns of any size in the country–and the Public Hall is always packed; but besides these ‘Diligentia’ concerts there are others given by various Singing Societies, so that there is variety enough to choose from.
In the summer-time there is another attraction besides the Wood for the people of The Hague, for the season at Scheveningen opens on the 1st of June, and there is music at the Kurhaus twice a day–in the afternoon on the terrace of that building, and in the evening in the great hall inside. On Friday night is given what is called a ‘Symphony Concert.’ To this all the world flocks, for no one who at all respects himself, or esteems the opinion of society, would venture to miss it. Whether every one understands or enjoys the high class music given is another question, which it would be imprudent to press too urgently, but then it belongs to ‘education’ to go to concerts, and so all enjoy it in their own way. For the townspeople and the working-classes, who have no free time during the week, concerts are given at the large Voorhout on the Sunday evenings in summer, so that on that day even the busiest and poorest may enjoy recreation of a better kind than the public-house offers them, and this effort on their behalf is greatly appreciated by the people, who gladly make use of the opportunities of hearing good and popular music.
The national love of music is assiduously fostered by the Netherlands Musical Union, whose branches are to be found all over the country. Every town has musical and singing societies of some kind–private as well as public–and these make life quite endurable in winter, even in the smallest places. Nor do these ‘Zangvereenigingen’ derive their membership exclusively from the higher classes, for the humbler folk have organizations of their own. Even the servant girl and the day-labourer will often be found to belong to singing clubs of some kind. Music is also taught at most of the public schools, though it was long before the Government capitulated upon the point, and gave this subject a place side by side with drawing as part of the normal curriculum of the children of the people.
Happily for the musical and dramatic tastes of the nation, both the concert and the theatre are cheap amusements in Holland. As a rule, the dearest seats cost only from 3s. to 5s., while the cheapest, even in first-class houses at Amsterdam, Rotterdam, and The Hague, cost as little as sixpence. The only exceptions are when renowned artists tour the country, and even then the prices seldom exceed L1 for the best places. There is one musical event which makes a more serious call upon the purse, and it is the periodical operatic performance of the Wagner Society in Amsterdam. As a rule, two representations a year are given, and some of the best singers of Europe are invited to sing in one or other of Wagner’s operas. The best Dutch orchestra plays, and chosen voices from the Amsterdam Conservatoire take part in the choruses. The scenery is worthy of Bayreuth itself, and such expense and care are bestowed upon these choice performances that, though the house is invariably filled on every occasion, the fees for admission never pay the costs, so that the musical enthusiasts of Amsterdam, Haarlem, and The Hague regularly make up the deficit each year, which sometimes amounts to as much as L1000.
While, however, the Dutch may with truth be classed as a distinctly musical nation, they would seem to have outlived their fame in the domain of musical art. For it should not be forgotten that Holland has in this respect a distinguished history behind it. So long ago as the times of Pope Adrian I. a Dutch school of music was established under the tuition of Italian masters, and it compared favourably with the contemporary schools of other nations. Even in the ninth century Holland produced a composer famous in the annals of music in the person of the monk Huchbald of St. Amand, in Flanders. He it was who changed the notation, and arranged the time by marking the worth of each note, and he is also remembered for his ‘Organum,’ the oldest form of music written in harmonies. It is often lamented that the compositions of to-day lack the originality which marked the earlier works. The country has none the less produced some noticeable composers during the past century. Of these J. Verhuist, W.F.G. Nicolal, Daniel de Lange, Richard Hol, and G. Mann are best known, though of no modern composer can it be said that he has any special ‘cachet,’ for the younger men, fed as they are on the works of other nations, grow into their style of thinking and writing, and follow almost slavishly in their footsteps. It is unfortunate that many rising composers cannot be persuaded to publish their works. The reason is that the cost of publishing in the Netherlands is almost fabulous, and if they do publish them at all it is done in Germany. But even then the circulation is so limited, owing to the smallness of the country, that it does not repay the cost; and so they prefer to plod on unknown, or to cultivate celebrity by giving private concerts of their own works.
Chapter XIII
Schools and School Life
If the Dutch peasant is not generally well educated it is not for want of opportunity, but rather because he has not taken what is offered him. For many years past a good elementary education has been within the reach of all. Even the small fees usually asked may be remitted in the case of those parents who cannot afford to pay anything, without entailing any civil disability; but attendance at school was only made compulsory by an Act which passed the Second Chamber in March, 1900, and which, at the time of writing, has just come into force. It is said that as many as sixty thousand Dutch children are getting no regular schooling. About one half of this number live on the canal-boats, and will probably give a good deal of trouble to those who will administer the new Act; for, as we have already seen, the families that these boats belong to have no other homes and are always on the move, so that it must ever be difficult to get hold of the children, especially as their parents do not see the necessity of sending them to school. It remains to be seen, therefore, whether any great improvement will resuit from the new Act, especially as private tuition may take the place of attendance at a school, and exemption is granted to those who have no fixed place of abode, and to parents who object to the tuition given in all the schools within two and a half miles of their homes. Under these conditions it seems that any one who wishes to evade the law will have little difficulty in doing so. The canal-boat people, apparently, are exempt so long as they do not remain for twenty-eight days consecutively in the same ‘gemeente,’ or commune.
The education provided by the State is strictly neutral in regard to religion and politics, but there are many denominational schools all over the country. Protestants call theirs ‘Bible schools,’ and Romanists call theirs ‘Catholic schools,’ and both these receive subsidies from the State if they satisfy the inspectors. Private schools also exist, but do not as a rule receive State aid. They are all, however, under State supervision and subject to the same conditions as to teachers’ qualifications; and a very good rule is in force, namely, that no one may teach in Holland without having passed a Government examination.
Instruction in the elementary schools supported by Government is in two grades, though the dividing line is not always clearly drawn. In Amsterdam, for example, there are four different grades. In the lower schools the subjects taught are, besides reading, writing, and arithmetic, grammar and history, geography, natural history and botany, drawing, singing and free gymnastics, and the girls also learn needlework, but a large proportion of the pupils are satisfied with a more modest course, and know little more than the three R’s. The children attending these schools are between six and twelve years of age, though in some rural districts few of them are less than eight years old, but according to the new law they must begin to attend when they are seven and go on until they are twelve or thirteen according to the standard attained. In the upper grade schools the same subjects are taught in a more advanced form, with the addition of universal history, French, German, and English. These languages, being optional, are taught more or less after regular school hours.
All the teachers in these schools must hold teachers’ or head-teachers’ certificates, to gain which they have to pass an examination in all the subjects which they are to teach except languages, for each of which a separate certificate is required. Every commune must have a school, though hitherto no one has been obliged to attend it, and lately, owing to the new Education Act, the builders have been busy in many places enlarging the schools to meet the new requirements. If there are more than forty children two masters are now necessary, and for more than ninety there must be at least three. Ten weeks’ holidays are allowed in the year, and these are to be given when the children are most wanted to help at home, in addition to which leave of absence may be granted in certain cases by the district inspectors. Holidays, therefore, vary according to the conditions of a town or village.
All schools are more or less under State control. They are divided into three classes according to the type of education which they provide. Lower or elementary education has already been dealt with. Between this and the higher education of the ‘Gymnasia’ and Universities comes what is called ‘middelbaar onderwijs’–that is, secondary, or rather intermediate, education. This is represented by technical or industrial schools, ‘Burgher night schools,’ and ‘Higher burgher schools.’ The first named train pupils for various trades and crafts, more especially for those connected with the principal local industries. The course is three years or thereabouts, following on that of the elementary schools, and there is generally an entrance examination, but the conditions vary in different communes. Sometimes the instruction is free, sometimes fees are charged amounting to a few shillings a year, the cost being borne by the communes, and in a few towns there are similar schools for girls who have passed through the elementary schools. The technical classes for girls cover such subjects as fancy-work, drawing and painting of a utilitarian character, and sometimes book keeping and dress-making. Most of them are free, but for some special subjects a small payment is required. Drawing seems to be a favourite subject, and in most of these technical schools there are classes for mechanical drawing as well as for some kind of artistic work connected with industry. In addition there are numerous art schools, some of them being devoted to the encouragement of fine art, while in others the object kept in view is the application of art to industry.
The ‘Burgher night schools,’ like the technical schools, are supported by the communes in which they are situated. There are about forty of them in all, and most of them are very well attended, in some cases the regular students, who are all working men and women, number several hundreds. The instruction is similar to that given in the technical schools, that is to say, it is chiefly practical, and local industries receive special attention. Formerly there were day schools also for working men, on the same lines as these, but they were not a success, and the technical schools have taken their place.
Of a higher class, but still included in the term ‘middelbaar onderwijs,’ is the ‘modern’ education of the ‘higher burgher’ schools. The majority of these schools were founded by the communes, the rest by the State, but internally they are ail alike, and all are inspected by commissioners appointed by the Government for the purpose. Pupils enter at twelve years of age, and must pass an entrance examination, which, like nearly every examination in Holland, is a Government affair. Having passed this, they attend school for five years, as a rule, but at some of these institutions the course lasts only three years. In some degree the ‘higher burgher’ schools correspond to the modern side of an English school: at least the subjects are much the same, embracing mathematlcs, natural science, modern languages and commercial subjects, and no Latin or Greek is taught. The education is wholly modern and practical, with the object of preparing pupils for commercial life. There are ‘higher burgher’ schools for girls as well as for boys, at which nearly the same education is provided.
A great advantage of these schools is that they are very cheap; at the most expensive the yearly fees amount to a little more than thirty pounds, but at the majority they only come to four or five. To teach in such schools as these one must have a diploma or a University degree. A separate diploma is necessary for each subject, and the examination is not easy. Even a foreigner who wishes to teach his own language must pass the same examination as a Dutchman. No difference is made between the masters at the boys’ schools and the ladies who teach the girls; exactly the same diplomas are required in both cases.
The ‘Gymnasia,’ to which allusion has been made, are classical schools, which prepare boys for the Universities. The age of entry is the same as at the modern schools, twelve; but the course is longer, as a rule covering six years instead of five, and at the end of this course comes a Government examination, the passing of which is a necessary preliminary to a University degree. The ‘Gymnasia’ were founded by an Act of Parliament, but are supported by the communes, which in this case are the larger towns, but they are assisted, as a rule, by a Government grant. The fees are very small, only about, L8 a year.
There are a few private and endowed schools, which may send up candidates for the same examinations as are taken by the pupils of the State schools, and it is among these that we find the only boarding schools in the country. Some of these have certain privileges; for instance, the headmaster may engage assistants who do not hold diplomas, which makes it easier for him to get native teachers for modern languages; but in the State schools proper, the selection of undermasters does not rest with the head, or director, as he is called, at all. Foreign teachers are not very plentiful, as the diplomas are not easy to get, and a native, who has to relearn much of his own language from a Dutch point of view, has little or no advantage over a Dutchman in the examinations.
No sketch of Dutch schools would be complete without some reference to the way in which modern languages are studied, for this is the most striking feature in the national education, and is of great importance when we are considering the national life and character of Holland. Former generations of Dutchmen won a place among the ‘learned nations’ by their knowledge of the classical languages; and their descendants seem to have inherited the gift of tongues, but make a more practical use of it. French, German, English, and Dutch, which go by the name of ‘de vier Talen,’ or ‘the four languages,’ have taken the place of Greek and Latin. In the ‘Gymnasia’ every pupil learns to speak them as a matter of course, and in the ‘higher burgher’ schools the same languages receive special attention, with a view to commercial correspondence. Even in the upper elementary schools, boys and girls are taught some or all of them. A boy entering one of the higher schools at the age of twelve or thirteen generally has some knowledge of, at least, one foreign language, acquired either at an elementary school, or at home, and he is never shy of displaying that knowledge. If his parents are well off, he has probably learned to speak French or English in the nursery, and it sometimes happens that he even speaks Dutch with a French or an English accent, having been brought up on the foreign language and acquired his native longue later. German as a rule is not begun so soon, the idea being that its resemblance to Dutch makes it easier, which is no doubt true to a certain extent. The result, however, is very often that the easiest language of the three is the one least correctly spoken.
As in all Continental countries, there is nothing in Holland corresponding to the English public school System. The ‘Gymnasia’ prepare boys for the Universities, and the ‘higher burgher’ schools train them for commercial life and some professions, somewhat in the same way as English modern schools, but there the resemblance ends. As a rule, a Dutch boy’s school life is limited to the hours he spends at lessons; the rest of the day belongs rather to home life. There are a few boarding schools in Holland, but the life in such schools in the two countries is different in almost every respect. The size of the schools may have something to do with this, though by itself it is not enough to account for the difference. A Dutch head-master once drew my attention to the lack of tradition in his own and other schools in the country, and expressed a hope that time might work a change. At present there is little sign of such a change. Tradition has hardly had time to grow up yet, for few of the existing schools are much more than twenty years old, and its growth is retarded by the small numbers, which make any widespread freemasonry among old boys impossible. But there is another and more serious obstacle. The uniform control which the Government exercises over ail schools alike, State, endowed, or private, whatever advantages it may have, certainly hinders the development of that individuality which makes ‘the old school,’ to many an English boy, something more than a place where he had lessons to do and was prepared for examinations.
A rough sketch of the inside of a Dutch school will doubtless be of interest. One of the few endowed schools in Holland may be taken as fairly typical of its class, but not of the State schools, though it competes with these and combines the classical and modern courses. It lies in the country, near a small village, and in this respect also differs from the ‘Gymnasia’ and ‘higher burgher’ schools, which are ail situated in the larger towns.
One of the first things which attracts notice is the large number of masters. It seems at first that there are hardly enough boys to go round. This is due to the law, which requires that every master must be qualified to teach his particular subject either by a University degree or by an equivalent diploma. Few hold more than two diplomas, and consequently much of the teaching is done by men who visit this and other schools two or three times a week. In this particular foundation the three resident masters are foreigners, but such an arrangement is exceptional. Classes seldom include more than half a dozen boys, and very often pupils are taken singly, and therefore each boy receives a good deal of individual attention. Such a school is divided into six forms or classes, but not for teaching purposes; the day’s work is differently arranged for each boy, and these classes merely record the results of the last examination. Some of the lessons last for an hour, but the rest are only three quarters of an hour long; they make up in number, however, what they lack in length, amounting to about nine and a half hours a day. Owing to the time being so much broken up, it may be doubted whether the amount of work done is any greater here than in an average English school where the aggregate of working hours is considerably less. Amongst our Dutch friends, however, and there may be others who share their opinion, the general belief is that English schoolboys learn very little except athletics.
With regard to sports and pastimes, these are the only schools in which any interest is taken or encouragement given therein. Football is played here on most half-holidays during the winter, and sometimes on Sunday, and occasionally its place is taken by hockey. It must be admitted that the standard of play is not very high in either game, though many of the boys work hard and, with better opportunities, might develop into high-class players; but as there are only about thirty boys in the school, competition for places in the teams is not very keen. Rowing has lately been introduced, not to the advantage of the football eleven. It may be remarked, by the way, that only Association football is played in Holland; the Rugby game is strictly barred by head-masters and parents as too dangerous. Attempts have been made to introduce cricket, but the game meets with little encouragement. There is a lawn-tennis court, however, which is constantly in use during the summer term. Bicycling is very popular, not only here, but in Holland generally; in fact, most of the boys seem to prefer this form of exercise to any of the games which have been mentioned.
Whether at work or play, all the boys are under the constant supervision of one or other of the resident masters, and the head is not far off. A few of the seniors are allowed to go outside the grounds when they please, but the rest may only go out under the charge of a master. In spite of this apparently strict supervision, however, there is not much real discipline. Corporal punishment is not allowed; both public opinion and the law of the land are against it. Other punishments, such as detention and impositions, are ineffectual, and are generally regarded by the culprit as unjustly interfering with his liberty. Consequently the masters have not much hold over the boys, who might, if they chose, perpetrate endless mischief without fear of painful consequences so long as they did nothing to warrant expulsion; but the young Hollander does not appear to have much enterprise in that direction. Perhaps he is sometimes kept out of mischief by his devotion to the fragrant weed, for he generally learns to smoke at a tender age, with his parents’ consent, and no exception is taken to his cigar except during lessons; but it is certainly startling to see the boys smoking while playing their games, as well as on all other possible occasions.
A large proportion of the boys at the ‘Gymnasia,’ perhaps the majority of them, pass on to the Universities, some to qualify for the learned professions, others because it is the fashion in Holland as in other countries for young men who have no intention of following any profession to spend a few years at a University in search of pleasure and experience; but the experience in this case is peculiar and unique.
Chapter XIV
The Universities
As to the Universities themselves, it is not necessary to consider them separately, as all four of them, Leyden, Groningen, Utrecht and Amsterdam, are alike in constitution. They are not residential, there are no beautiful buildings, there are no rival colleges, no tutors or proctors, and no ‘gate;’ nor are they independent corporations like Oxford and Cambridge and Durham, for, though they retain some outward forms which recall a former independence, they are now maintained and managed entirely by the State, which pays the professors and provides the necessary buildings. The subjects to be taught and the examinations to be held in the various faculties are laid down by statute. Consequently the Universities show the same want of individuality as the schools, and, to an outsider at least, there seems to be nothing of the ‘Alma Mater’ about them under the present _regime,_ and no real ground for preferring any one of them to the others. At the same time, fathers usually send their sons to the Universities at which they themselves have studied, except when they and the professors happen to hold very different political opinions, but such a custom may be due as much to the national love of order and regularity as to any real attachment to a particular University. As to the political opinions of professors, their influence on the students cannot be very great in the majority of cases, being limited to the effect produced by lectures, for there is no social intercourse between teacher and taught. The professors, though very learned men, do not enjoy any great social standing, and the title does not carry with it anything like the same rank as in some other countries.
The system on which these Universities work may be a sound and logical one so far as it goes, and more up-to-date than the English residential system, which its enemies deride as mediaeval and monastic; but it is a cast iron system, designed with the object of preparing men for examinations, and one which does nothing to discover promising scholars or to encourage original work and research among those who have taken their degrees, or, according to the Dutch phrase, have gained their ‘promotion’. There are no scholarships, nor anything that might serve the same purpose, though some such institution could hardly find a more favourable soil than that of Holland. Instruction of a very learned and thorough character is offered to those who will and can receive it, and that is all. The classes are open to all who pay the necessary fees, which are trifling, though the degree of Doctor may only be granted to those who have passed the ‘Gymnasium’ final or an equivalent examination, and, provided he makes these payments, a student is free to do as he pleases, so far as his University is concerned.
Discipline there is none, except in very rare cases, when the law provides for the expulsion of offenders; only theological candidates are indirectly restrained from undue levity by having to get a certificate of good conduct at the end of their course. There is no chapel to keep, for the student’s religion and morals are entirely his own concern; there are no ‘collections,’ for if a man does not choose to read he injures no one but himself by his idleness; and there is no Vice-Chancellor’s Court, for in theory students are on the same footing as other people before the law, though in practice the police seldom interfere with them more than they can help. It is not surprising that young men not long from school should sometimes abuse such exceptional freedom, but their ideas of enjoyment are rather strange in foreign eyes. One of their favourite amusements seems to be driving about the town and neighbourhood in open carriages. On special occasions all the members of a club turn out, wearing little round caps of their club colours, and accompanied as likely as not by a band, and drive off in a procession to some neighbouring town, where they dine; in the night or next morning they return, all uproariously drunk, singing and shouting, waving flags and flinging empty wine-bottles about the road. I do not wish to imply that all Dutch students behave in this way, but such exhibitions are unfortunately not uncommon, and show to what lengths ‘freedom’ is permitted to go.
There is a limit, however, even to the liberty of students, as appears from the following anecdote. One of these young men gave a wine-party in his lodgings, and some one proposed, by way of a lark, to wake up a young woman who lived in the house opposite, and fetch her out of bed, so a rocket was produced and fired through the open window. The bombardment had the desired effect, but it also set the house on fire, and the joker’s father was called on to make good the damage. Then the police took the matter up, and the culprit got several weeks’ imprisonment for arson, after which he returned to the University and resumed his interrupted studies. There was no question of rustication, as the court simply inflicted the penalty laid down in the Code, and there was no other authority that had power to interfere in the matter at all.
As may well be imagined, students are not generally popular with the townsfolk, who resent the unequal treatment of the two classes, not because they wish for the same measure of license, but because anything like rowdiness contrasts strongly with their own habits; and extravagance, not an uncommon failing among students in Holland or elsewhere, is absolutely repugnant to the average Dutch citizen. This feeling of resentment seems to be growing, and has already had some slight effect upon the civil authorities; if the students find some day that they have lost their privileged position, they will have only themselves to thank, and certainly the change will do them no harm.
But though a certain number go to the Universities merely to amuse themselves or to be in the fashion, most of them work well, even if they do not attend lectures regularly all through their course. In some faculties private coaching offers a quicker and easier way to ‘promotion’ than the more orthodox one through the class-rooms. No doubt there are some who are in no hurry to leave the attractions of student life, but not many cling to them so persistently as a certain Dutch student, to whom a relative bequeathed a liberal allowance, to be paid him as long as he was studying for his degree. He became known as ‘the eternal student,’ to the great wrath of the heirs who waited for the reversion of his legacy. For most men the ordinary course is long enough, for it averages perhaps six or seven years, though there is no fixed time, and candidates may take the examinations as soon as they please. The nominal course–that is, the time over which the lectures extend–varies in the different faculties, from four years in law to seven or eight in medicine, but very few men manage, or attempt, to take a degree in law in four years. The other faculties are theology, science, including mathematics, and literature and philosophy.
The degree of Doctor is given in these five faculties, and to obtain it two examinations must be passed, the candidate’s and the doctoral. After passing the latter a student bears the title _doctorandus_ until he has written a book or thesis and defended it _viva voce_ before the examiners. He is then ‘promoted’ to the degree, a ceremony which generally entails, indirectly, a certain amount of expense. It appears to be the correct thing for the newly-made doctor to drive round in state, adorned with the colours of his club and attended by friends gorgeously disguised as lacqueys, and leave copies of his book at the houses of the professors and his club fellows, after which he, of course, celebrates the occasion in the invariable Dutch fashion, with a dinner. Many students, however, are not qualified to try for a degree, not having been through the ‘Gymnasia,’ and others do not wish to do so. Sometimes the candidate’s examination qualifies one to practise a profession, and is open to all, in other cases, in the faculty of medicine for example, it gives no qualification, and is only open to candidates for the degree, but then there is another, a ‘professional’ examination, for those who do not aim at the ornamental title.
The cost of living at the Universities naturally depends very much on the student’s tastes and habits. He pays to the University only 200 florins (_L16 13s 4d_) a year for four years, after which he may attend lectures free of charge, so the minimum annual expenditure is small; but it should be borne in mind that the course is about twice as long as in England. A good many students live with their families, which is cheaper than living in lodgings; and as nearly all classes are represented, there is a considerable difference in their standards of life. Some are certainly extravagant, as in all Universities, which tends to raise prices, but, on the other hand, many of them are men whose parents can ill afford the expense, but are tempted by the value which attaches to a University career in Holland, and these bring the average down. Between these two extremes there are plenty who do very well on L150 or so a year, and L200 is probably considered a sufficiently liberal allowance by parents who could easily afford a larger sum. Even the students’ corps need not lead to any great expense, as it consists of a number of minor clubs, and nearly every one joins it, so that the pace is not always the same; students who wish to keep their expenses down naturally join with friends who are similarly situated, leaving the more extravagant clubs to the young bloods who have plenty of money to spare.
The corps is the only tie which holds the students together where there are no colleges, and athletics play but a very small part. Each University has its corps, to which all the students belong except a few who take no part in the typical student life, and are known as the ‘boeven,’ or ‘knaves.’ A Rector and Senate are elected annually from among the members of four or five years’ standing to manage the affairs of the corps. In order to become a member, a freshman, or ‘green,’ as he is called in Holland, has to go through a rather trying initiation, which lasts for three or four weeks. Having given in his name to the Senate, he must call on the members of the corps and ask them to sign their names in a book, which is inspected by the Senate from time to time, and at each visit he comes in for a good deal of ‘ragging,’ for, as he may not go away until he has obtained his host’s signature, he is completely at the mercy of his tormentors. If he does not obey their orders implicitly and give any information they may require about his private affairs, he is likely to have a bad time, but as long as he is duly submissive he is generally let off with a little harmless fooling. One ‘green,’ a shy and retiring youth, who did not at all relish the impertinent inquiries which were made into his morals and family history, was made to stand at the window and give a full and particular account of himself to the passers-by, with interesting details supplied by the company. Sometimes, however, the joking is more brutal and less amusing. For instance, as a punishment for shirking the bottle, the victim was compelled to kneel on the floor with a funnel in his mouth, while his tormentors poured libations down his throat.
When the ‘green time’ is over the new members of the corps are installed by the Rector, and drive round the town in procession, finishing up, of course, with a club dinner. The corps has its head-quarters in the Students’ Club, which corresponds more or less to the ‘Union’ at an English University, though differing from the latter in two important respects: first, there are no debates, and secondly, the members are exclusively students, for, as I have already noticed, there is no social intercourse between the professors and their pupils. The reading-rooms at the club are a favourite lounge of a great many of the students, but it must be admitted that the literature supplied there is not always of a very wholesome kind, seeing that it includes ‘realism’ of the most daring description, with illustrations to match, and obscene Parisian comic papers. Every member of the corps also belongs to one of the minor clubs of which it is made up, and which are apparently nothing more than messes, very often with only a dozen members, or less.
A few sport clubs exist, also under the control of the corps, but they do not play a very prominent part, for the taste for athletic exercises is confined to a small minority. Considering the small number of players, the proficiency attained in the exotic games of football and hockey is surprisingly high. The rowing is even better, and attracts a larger number, being perhaps more suited to the physical characteristics of the race than those games for which agility is more necessary than weight and strength. Boat-races are held annually between the several Universities, in which the form of the crews is generally very good. If I am not mistaken, some of the Dutch crews that have rowed at Henley represented University clubs. The typical student, however, though well enough endowed with bone and muscle, has no ambition whatever to become an athlete, or to submit to the fatigue and self-denial of training. Probably the way he lives and his aversion to athletics, more than the length of his course of study, account for his elderly appearance, for he is not only obviously older than the average undergraduate, but begins to look positively middle-aged both in face and figure almost before he has done growing.
Before leaving the subject of the students’ corps, mention must be made of the great carnival which each corps holds every five years to commemorate the foundation of its University. The ‘Lustrum-Maskerade,’ which is the chief item in the week of festivities, is a historical pageant representing some event in the mediaeval history of Holland. The chief actors are chosen from among the wealthiest of the students, and spare no trouble or expense in preparing their get-up, while the minor parts are allotted to the various clubs within the corps, each club representing a company of retainers or men-at-arms in the service of one of the mock princes or knights. For six days the players retain their gorgeous costumes and act their parts, even when excursions are made in the neighbourhood in company with the friends and relatives who come to join in the commemoration, and the mixture of mediaeval and modern costumes in the streets has a somewhat ludicrous effect. On the first day the visitors are formally welcomed by the officers of the corps. Former students of all ages meet their old comrades, and the men of each year, after dining together, march together to the garden or park where the reception is held. Anything less like the usual calm and serious demeanour of these seniors than the way in which they dance and sing through the town is not to be imagined, for the oldest and most sedate of them are as wildly and ludicrously enthusiastic as the youngest student; and their arrival at the reception, with bands of music, skipping about and roaring student songs like their sons and grandsons, is, to say the least, comical. But the occasion only comes once in five years, and they naturally make the most of it.
The next day the Masquerade takes place, beginning with a procession to the ground, and is repeated two or three times before huge crowds of spectators, for the townsmen are as excited as the students and the relatives, at least on the first two days. Great pains are always taken to ensure historical correctness in every detail, and the leading parts are often admirably played, and it must be the unromantic dress of the lookers-on that spoils the effect and makes one think of a circus. If only the crowd could be brought into harmony with the masqueraders in the matter of clothes the illusion might be complete; as it is, one can hardly imagine for a moment that the knights who charge so bravely down the lists mean to do one another any serious damage. A tournament is very often the subject of the pageant, or an important part of it, or sometimes a challenge and single combat are introduced as a sort of _entr’acte_. For the last four days of the feast there is no fixed order of procedure; balls, concerts, garden-parties, and so on are arranged as may be most convenient, while the intervals are spent in visits, dinners, and drives. Not until the end of the week does any student lay aside his gay costume