Littell's Living Age/Volume 127/Issue 1636/The Zuider Zee
ZUIDER ZEE.
The north and very low-lying coast of Holland has on several occasions been inundated in an extraordinary manner by invasions of the German Ocean; and indeed the history of this part of the Netherlands narrates a continuous effort to keep out the sea, and to reclaim the land for serviceable purposes. Of the recovery of a large tract of land from an old inundation, the most notable instance is that of drying up the Haarlem lake or sea, by means of steam-pumps and an ingenious system of engineering, and which has been effected within the last twenty years. The Haarlem Sea was a bad case of destruction by water, but nothing to compare to that of the Zuider Zee, which began its dreadful work of intrusion in 1312, and continued to widen the sphere of its operations until 1476. A vast extent of country was submerged, by which flourishing towns and villages were destroyed and the lives of hundreds of human beings were sacrificed. When the sea had done its worst, a productive district of country measuring about fifteen hundred square miles was covered with salt water, and became absolutely useless.
Even after an interval of four hundred years, the Zuider Zee does not look like a part of the regular ocean. It appears a limitless extent of dull brooding waters, with low marshy borders; so that in many places its shores are imperfectly distinguishable, while attempts to navigate its surface are often attended with extreme danger. Submarine shoals extend to the verge of the horizon, and banks of yellow sand covered by a foot deep of water communicate a peculiar colour to the sea. Add to this the green flat shore, varied only by a steeple or a windmill, and there arises in the mind an impression of deep repose. You have no occasion either to think or to act ; you fall into the charm of a calm sweet reverie, and can understand how a race which has had such a landscape before its eyes for centuries, has laid aside its natural impetuosity for the phlegmatic character of the Dutch.
There are, however, few who have circumnavigated this sea; probably not ten persons in Holland; it is in truth one of the most difficult and dangerous passages. On on ordinary map, nothing looks more easy; but there are banks of sand extending on all sides, and leaving a very narrow channel between them. If a mistake occurs in steering, or a blast of wind throws the vessel on to one of these banks, all is lost. Sad stories are told by sailors, and the wrecks lying about the coast shew plainly the perils of the voyage. A French writer, who is also an artist — M. H. Havard — undeterred by these difficulties, determined to visit the ruins of the old towns before decay had effaced the remembrance of former capitals, like Medemblik and Stavoren, and his "Voyage aux Villes Mortes du Zuiderzée" presents us with an interesting account of these out-of-the-world places.
His first object was to choose a suitable boat, drawing very little water, and yet sufficiently commodious to hold six persons, and to carry provisions for twenty-five days. With the exception of bread and a few fresh vegetables, no dependence can be placed on the resources of the country. Water even must be taken, for throughout the north of Holland it has a most objectionable salt flavour, and is injurious to those unaccustomed to its use. It was no easy task to find a captain, but at length one who had bever been, but had all the desire, was found. "With the help of God and a good wind," said he, "we shall prosper. I make two conditions: to be the judge of the weather, and not start when it is bad; and not to work on Sunday."
The crew was of very modest proportions, composed of the captain, his wife, a boy, and a sailor; all were young and agile, and sufficed to handle the little craft. They lived a curious existence, rarely going on land, never sleeping there, but preferring to keep to the waters. The centre of the boat was divided into three compartments; one for a dining-room, which was adorned with old tapestry, a carpet, four chairs, and a table; silver and glass shone from some shelves, and by degrees M. Havard's sketches were hung, as taken, on the walls. The second served as a kitchen; and in the third two hair mattresses were spread on boards, and made admirable beds; the crew were lodged fore and aft. There are few spectacles more striking than the sea on a lovely summer's night, and on the Zuider Zee, nature seems to reach perfection of beauty. Our author is enthusiastic in his admiration, and assures us that such a sight can never be forgotten: the rippling waters reflected the stars in their pearly tints, while three or four lighthouses glowed on the scene with rosy tints. The captain promised us fine weather on the morrow, but he was mistaken; on awaking, the boat was rocking violently, the wind blew furiously through the ropes, and the rain flooded the deck. "It is well," said he, "that we got into port last night, or we should have been wrecked on the Lady's Sandbank; the ropes have been broken like a bit of thread, and the flagstaff is in three pieces." But with these little variations the voyage was successful and pleasant; and when the time for parting came, all were sorry to bid adieu, thanks to mutual concessions and similarity of feeling.
One of the prettiest as well as most curious of towns is that of Hoorn. Landing at the pier, which is commanded by a picturesque old tower, a worthy study for the artist, the traveller finds himself in a clear basin of water, bordered by masses of shrubs, large trees, and flowers. Over these peep the belfries and gables of the houses. All are old and striking, covered with carvings and bas-reliefs, the pointed roofs finishing with a spiral staircase, to give a view over the sea. Everywhere are wide porches and granite steps: sculptured wood and chiselled stone alternate with bright-coloured bricks, giving a character of gaiety and freshness, which contrasts singularly with their great age and old-world forms. It seems ridiculous to traverse such streets in modern costume; the wide beaver hat and feather, military boots, and a rapier at the side, would be more in keeping. There are, alas, but few to frequent these deserted streets. Formerly, Hoorn covered the sea with its merchant vessels; a thousand carts, bringing mountains of cheese weekly, appeared at its market; whilst the yearly fair of cattle attracted multitudes of strangers from France, Germany, and the north.
The walls and deep ditch which defended the town still remain, some of the towers are standing, and the rampart is converted into a promenade, covered with trees and gardens. The two gates are magnificent in size and details. One named the Koepoort, or Cowgate, testifies to the gratitude of the Dutch to the source of their riches; it is surmounted by two cows lying down, as if contemplating their grazing sisters in the fields beyond; others also decorate the façade. Through another, called Westgate, there arrived, in 1573, a poor child worn out with fatigue and privation. On a hastily constructed sledge he had, with filial affection, laid his old sick mother, and fled before the Spaniards. Twice he had been arrested on the way, and twice, touched by his pious devotion, he had been permitted to proceed. The people of Hoorn perpetuated the remembrance of this heroic act in a bas-relief carved on the gate.
The weekly market is still held; for, after Alkmaar, the largest cheese-trade is carried on here. Boer-wagen covered with carvings and bright-coloured paint, drive in to the waag, or weighing-house; a pretty building of gray stone, with a graceful roof pierced by dormer windows. The cheeses are piled up, their yellow rind shining like gold; and all round walk the calm, silent peasants, dressed in black. Then two will speak a few words, strike the hand several times, bending one or two fingers, and then striking them quickly out — private signals only known to themselves — and thus arrange the purchase. The price is only indicated by the pressure of the hand. When this is concluded, the porters of the waag come forward, dressed in white, with a blue, red, or green hat, according to the scales which belong to them; the cheese is then laid on a handcart, and officially weighed.
The trade of Holland is chiefly confined to agricultural products and fish. The wide pastures of the island of Texel feed two thousand horned cattle, a thousand horses, and thirty thousand sheep, which are celebrated throughout Europe. Every year twelve thousand of the last are exported, and the quarterly fair is very picturesque, when these flocks of sheep and lambs are shipped off to the continent. Through the basins of Harlingen, the port of Friesland, pass oxen and sheep, pigs and fowls, with mountains of cheese, fruits, and eggs for this country: here resort the provision-dealers of London, to carry away butter-barrels, which are piled up on the docks like cannon-balls in an arsenal. The canals are filled with the heavy-looking tjalks, or market-boats, which bring the good things of the country down to the port. Flax is a very important article of cultivation in Friesland; the market of Dokkum is one of the largest in Europe. The chief houses of England, Germany, and France have agents in this little town. The soil is incredibly rich; the peasants are well off; and there are few farmers who do not own some property in addition to the land they rent. It is rarely indeed that a tenant is turned out of his farm; families hold them for centuries, yet the lease is only for five or seven years, and stipulates how many head of cattle are to be fed on the meadows, and how much manure is to be laid on each acre; thus the soil is kept up to a wonderful state of fertility.
When De Ruyter tied to his mast the broom, as an indication that he had swept his enemies from the North Sea, and sailed up the Thames, his squadron had several vessels fitted out by the city of Hoorn. On one were two negroes, who had the boldness to carry away the figure-head from a ship lying in the river. The trophy was brought to Hoorn, and as a remembrance, an escutcheon was carved, and placed on a monument supported by two bronze negroes. Among the notabilities who were born here may be mentioned Abel Tasman, who discovered Tasmania and New Zealand; Jan Kœn, who founded Batavia in 1619; and Shouten, who doubled Cape Horn, calling it after his native city.
The peasants of North Holland shew a great passion for colour; the red brick houses have yellow shutters and pale-green window-frames: not content with this, they paint nature itself; up to the lowest branches the trees are covered with white or blue; whilst the walks in the garden are straw-colour, with two red stripes at each side, which do not harmonize well with the closely cut hedges and gay flowerbeds. In the village of Opperdoes many of the houses open into the stables, clean as any drawing-room, paved with tiles, and sanded with different colours, where the black and white cows stand on fresh litter, and the pails and buckets shine like gold and vermilion. Through this is the sitting-room, where handsome fresh-coloured girls, in the large cap and golden helmet -shaped head-dress, engage in charming fancy-work.
There are usually two doors to the house: one small one for daily use; the other sculptured, ornamented, and gilded, only to be opened for baptisms, marriages, and funerals. All these are the occasion of interminable feasts. When the master of the house dies, he is dressed in black, with a white cotton night-cap on his head, and laid in his coffin, the face being uncovered. On the following day the family assembles; the widow, covered with a large black hood, sits at the foot of the corpse, and the religious service begins. When the preacher has ended, she bursts into a loud wail; the coffin is taken up, carried out of the ornamented door, and placed on a car, the widow seating herself on the coffin. Every peasant-woman cuts off her hair on her wedding-day, notwithstanding the remonstrances of her husband. Ornaments of all kinds are put on to cover up this act of vandalism; frontals of gold which are worth twenty or thirty pounds. The origin of this device is said to be, that the Dutch in former days loved the bottle too well, and the feast often terminated in violent quarrels, ending in a regular battle; and the women, wishing to save their heads from these conjugal attentions, adopted a metal helmet. This may be a doubtful interpretation; but it is certain that in many municipahties where conjugal scrimmaging was not unknown, it was the law to charge a husband who beat his wife with the payment of a ham, and two hams when the wife struck her husband.
Medemblik, the old capital of western Friesland, would be a charming city if animation could be restored to it, but is now like a vast cemetery; a mortal sadness creeps over the solitary traveller as he passes over deserted quays, wide streets, and promenades. Long before Enkhuizen and Hoorn existed, it sheltered kings and their armies. Here resided the famous King Radbod, whom Pepin and Charles Martel did their best to convert to the Christian religion by armies and lances. He even consented to be baptised, but when his foot was in the baptistery, he hesitated, and asked the bishop if the kings his ancestors were in heaven or hell. The bishop replied that they were doubtless in the latter place, seeing that they had not been baptised; then said the king: "I would rather go where my friends are, than follow the few that are in Paradise."
One by one the old houses are dropping to pieces; the walls are rent, and the centre of the town is alone inhabited. Formerly, it had the privilege of a mint; fleets were armed; and around its magnificent docks splendid buildings still exist, but are deserted. Black and white cows graze peacefully on the green, which is surrounded by the grandest building in Holland for the construction of ships, now empty; and the former garden belonging to the admiral, once containing the finest collection of plants in Europe, is planted with potatoes.
Unfortunately, the people do not care to preserve their relics. The Stadhuis possessed a remarkable hall, but the wood-carvings have been taken down, and sold to an amateur. The castle, one of the oldest in Holland, where Radbod held his court, has been partially demolished. The remains are very interesting; here was placed the statue of the Friesland goddess Medea, to whom human sacrifices were offered. As it was gilt, and the sun shone upon it, the city received its name from this circumstance — Medea blickt, or shines.
Among the other old towns, that of Kampen possesses many antiquities. Of its seven gates, the four best are still standing. The Brothers' Gate, in the midst of a lovely flower-garden, is one of the finest specimens of the architecture of the sixteenth century. It was named after the monastic order of the Brothers of Common Life, who did a good work in copying and preserving manuscripts. Gerard Groot was their founder, and they lived in absolute poverty, giving all they received to learned clerks who assisted them in their literary labours. There are some remarkably fine churches; but the gem of this old imperial city is the town-hall, which is a real feast to the eye of the artist. It has a façade of brick and stone, high roof pierced with dormer windows, and between every window are pinnacled niches filled with statues of the sixteenth century.
Within are two halls, just as they were when built; decorated with exquisite wood-carving and carved stalls, and seats fastened to the wall. Flags, pikes, halberds, partisans, witnesses to the struggles of old times, garnish the walls, and some formidable syringes of polished brass, shining like gold, which were used to throw boiling oil on assailants who approached too close to the walls. Nothing can give a better idea of a hall of justice in the sixteenth century than the second chamber, with its superb balustrade, stalls divided by Ionic columns, and the chimney-piece of four stages, unequalled in Europe for its fine statues and bas-reliefs.
Happily, the people have preserved their old municipal documents, instead of selling them for waste-paper; now they are priceless. A good library, pictures, and goldsmith's work, belonging to the ancient guilds, are interesting. There is a small gold box, called the bean-box, containing twenty-four beans, six of silver-gilt, and eighteen of polished silver. When the members of the council were chosen for particular work, these beans were handed round; those who drew the gilt beans entered on their duties, the rest being rejected.
The island of Marken is entirely occupied by fishermen, and is extremely singular, for, owing to the perfectly level soil, and consequent inundations, the people have raised mounds of earth on which to build their seven villages. The houses are of wood, only one story in height, and painted green, blue, or black, with red-tile roofs; some are raised on poles, and look like immense cages suspended in the air. Of the thousand inhabitants only women and children are to be met with on week-days—their intrepid husbands being far out on the Zuider Zee, fishing for plaice or herrings. Habituated from infancy to go through danger and fatigue, they are a fine race of men; content with the perfect equality which prevails over the whole island, and wishing for no luxuries, they become small capitalists. The houses are divided into as many rooms as the family requires, the bedroom being the largest and most adorned. The bed is a box in the wall, difficult to get into, and inclosed by curtains. The sheets and pillows are embroidered in open work, forming a kind of guipure lace peculiar to Marken, and really elegant in design. The walls are covered with blue china, Japanese porcelain, and curiosities: a Friesland cuckoo clock; old brass chandeliers, shining like gold; and the oak cupboard, filled with large glasses and delft ware, complete the picture. Madame Klok, the confectioner of the island, has a splendid collection of china and pictures, as well as six beautifully carved cabinets, equal in style and preservation. These wonderful relics of old Dutch art enjoy a real celebrity, so that the queen of Holland came last year to see them.
As the island is one huge meadow, the grass is made into hay. Twice a year, mowers come from the continent to cut it; they are called "green Germans," with their small helmet-shaped hats and large pipes. Their work ended, they depart, and the young girls turn the hay, and when dry, fill their light barques, then traverse the canals which cross the island in every direction to the port, where it is to be shipped. Nothing is more picturesque than these handsome women in their national costume of red, with large white head-dresses, working in the green fields, their fair hair—for they do not cut it off—fluttering in the breeze. On Sunday, all the boats are in shore; long, brilliantly coloured processions wend their way to church; after which all enjoy the weekly family gathering. Up to midnight, the houses are lighted up, and lanterns flit about; the boats are filling, lovers are parting, wives accompany their husbands, and soon the sea is covered with what resembles a cloud of glow-worms. Quietness settles down, for there is no trade; furniture, dress, beer, and even bread, all come from the mainland.
Though many of the churches were formerly fine examples of Mediæval architecture, the hand of the iconoclast has destroyed much of their beauty; they are now, as a rule, whitewashed, and look cold and bare. That of Wester-Kirk has preserved its marvellous wood-carving in an old pulpit, which was once supported on columns of silver, now exchanged for bronze. The descendants of the Anabaptists or Mennonites still flourish at Harlingen; and though once so violent, are only noted for their mutual and rather exclusive Christian love, as forming one large family. In the church of the Old Catholics at Enkhuizen, the ancient sacerdotal vestments are preserved from the time when the archbishop of Utrecht, their first head, was excommunicated by the pope in 1725.
This is probably the only country where skating races are held. Young and old, rich and poor, enter the arena, which is a long straight canal, and nothing can give an idea of the dizzy rush of the competitors. The prize is always a piece of valuable plate, a trophy which is preserved in the family with great care, for to obtain it the owner must have striven with eighty or a hundred others. When the race is over, every one puts on his or her skates, and crowds cover the canal; here twenty, hand in hand, form a long chain; there an elegant little sledge is pushed by a brother or husband; or the grand carved sledge, gilded and painted with bright colours, is drawn by a fine horse, adorned with red rosettes and bells.
Whether it would be possible, with any practical advantage, to drain the Zuider Zee, and dyke out the ocean, we are unable to say. The Dutch are a most indefatigable and calculating people, and if the thing could be done, or were worth doing, they would do it; thereby adding largely to their available territory. The drainage of the Haarlem sea or lake has, we understand, succeeded commercially. The first time we visited it was in 1838, when we saw a stretch of twenty miles of water. On revisiting Haarlem in 1862, we saw a wide-extended series of green fields dotted with farmhouses, and possessing all the indications of rural prosperity. The expulsion of the Zuider Zee would, however, be a much more serious undertaking; but it would not surprise us to learn that steps at least were taken to greatly circumscribe its dimensions.