University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER 8

The Hague

As in Brussels, we have only half a day to devote to this capital city of Holland. I regret this very much, but our time in Europe is far too short to do justice to any one city. Like our humming bird, we shall sip from many a flower to produce the honey of this summer. We were obliged to consume the morning on the train. The country through which we passed had the charm of novelty, canals, wind mills, cows knee deep in luscious grass, and gardens like unto flower beds This afternoon carriages were placed at our disposal and a guide furnished. The streets are charming, and the many quaintly costumed women and children add to the picture. I wonder how the women produce that wonderfully bouffant condition of skirts, is it a hoop or numerous petticoats? The children do not seem hampered by their wooden shoes, they "klump, klump" merrily along with their dear sunshiny faces, just typical Dutch dolls.

The House in the Woods is all one could wish for a quaint retreat, yet I believe after a few months of residence there I would welcome war. We were shown the treasures by a woman who evidently loved the palace, but was too given to minute detail to be a pleasing narrator. Mr. B. was in our carriage, also Mr. R., from Montreal. Ed and the latter persisted on bowing to every pretty girl we passed. Noticing how much attention we attracted I asked Mr. B. the cause of it, and he informed me that we were regarded as a wedding party. Ed was hugely delighted, and thereafter would toss pennies to the children to hear them wish us happiness.

The old Spanish prison, with its many instruments of torture, caused me to exclaim: "Why American Indians were novices in the art of torture." Ed can tell you all you wish to know concerning the devices, for I detected him actually trying a stretching machine. Think of the fiendishness that starved men in a room filled with tantalizing odors from the kitchen, or roasted them alive, or varied that by rendering them insane with dropping water. One of the torture chambers boasts a floor of over six hundred years of age. Can you bear to think of the weary feet that have pressed that oak? I could write pages of the horrors therein, yet why should I? Alva is dead and so are all the others, just and unjust, let those who may slumber in peace.

We reached the Art Gallery just before the great doors were closed, so we did that building with cyclonic speed. I only saw two paintings, Rembrandt's "Lessons in Anatomy," and Murillo's "Madonna and Child." Do not expect me to criticize works of art, I feel my inability to do so. I can only say I like or do not like. In the Houses of Parliament we sat comfortably in the seats of members while the woman in charge explained the beauties of the ceiling. This city was truly a worthy setting for the peace conference, it has such an air of contentment and well doing.

The drive to Scheveningen[1] was a continuous succession of beautiful streets and shady lanes. The long promenade must be fascinating when the fashionable are parading there. It was too late for bathing when we arrived at the beach, so we were content with fifteen minutes on the sands. Ed is sending you a post card he purchased from a little boy who was afterwards arrested for selling post cards without a license. I felt so sorry for the little man, as he was taken off the beach sobbing dismally. After dinner we visited quite a number of shops and I purchased a love of a Dutch spoon for my collection. So many people, all out seemingly on pleasure bent, I could have walked the brilliantly lighted streets for hours if my body could stand so much exertion as my spirit. The streets are so broad and handsome, it must be a lovely city in which to live. What would I do without Ed? His knowledge of French increases our pleasure and comfort.

If you remember, John requested his uncle to write him of the boys in other lands. Well, Ed is preparing to send him quite an epistle, urge John to reply immediately. Have you a post card album? If not, do send for one, Ed is determined to mail you cards of all places he considers interesting. I confess to being very tired tonight, I have not fully recovered from the passage to Antwerp.

I enjoyed quite a lengthy conversation with two ladies of the party, sisters from Denver. They felt like "people from home." Good night, Mother, I must rest. It is fascinating to write to you, but is it not wise to exercise moderation in all things?

Lovingly,

C.