ROTTERDAM
We arrived towards night at Rotterdam, one of the most considerable
sea-ports in Holland. How helpless we felt in this strange country! We
had the greatest difficulty to make ourselves understood by the porters;
our knowledge of Dutch being nil, we addressed them in German and
English, and they answered in Dutch, which did not help us. We hailed a
cab and tried to explain to the driver that we wanted to be driven to
New Bath Hotel, and doubted somewhat whether we were understood, but
our driver replied reassuringly, making our luggage a resting-place for
his boots, and clambered into his seat. We arrived, in fact, at the
designated hotel, situated on the quay of the river Maas.
Next morning Sergy went to secure tickets for the first boat leaving for
London; there was one starting on the following day. When Sergy returned
we drove to the Zoological Gardens, the best in Europe. Rotterdam does
not inspire me; the houses are built on piles and look as if they were
all on one side, and the canals, like those of Venice, are dirty and
stinking. After the Zoological Gardens we visited an exhibition of Dutch
painters, and saw posthumous pictures said to be painted by Rembrandt.
Before returning to the hotel we drove through the park by a broad
avenue bordered with elegant villas belonging, for the most part, to
rich merchants. Dying of thirst, we drew up at a café and ordered tea. A
waiter brought a teapot with boiling water and two cups and nothing else,
and told us that the visitors had to supply their own tea and sugar in
this singular restaurant!
When we were back at the hotel I sat a long time by the window looking at
what was going on in the street, where the tram-cars, the carriages and
heavy carts intermingled unceasingly. Muzzled dogs drew large waggonettes
led by buxom peasant-women in stiffly starched gowns, who were faithful
to their ancient costume and wore red bodices, brown skirts and a strange
form of head-gear with heavy gold ornaments over flowing white caps. I
was very much interested with the life and traffic in the port, on to a
corner of which our windows looked. Large cargo-boats, exporting fruit
and vegetables to England, were moored in the port, and numerous barges
toiled steadily by, on their way to market, loaded to the water edge. A
big American steamer was leaving for New York on the next day, carrying
two thousand emigrants.
We spent our evening in a music-hall. The performance was very bad
indeed. First came a French “chanteuse” in a short skirt and still
shorter bodice, who rattled away indecent songs, then came the so-called
tenor, who cooed a sentimental romance both out of tune and time, then
a “basso profundo,” who bellowed Mephistopheles’ Serenade, made his
appearance. The whole performance was accompanied by dead silence. The
Dutch, in general, are a reserved people. All the faces are grave. I
never saw a Dutchman smile. We were obliged to return on foot to the
hotel and would have given anything for a carriage, but none was to be
had and all the trams were overcrowded. So we walked, trying to find our
way, which was not an easy thing to do, stopping at every corner to read
the name of the street under a lamp-post.
On the following morning we embarked for London on a Dutch steamer named
_Fjenoord_. The lower deck was closely packed with calves and sheep for
sale. As soon as we were out in the open sea, we began to feel a slight
rocking. It was too windy to remain on deck, and in our cabin the air
was so close and stifling! We asked the stewardess to wake us before
entering the Thames. I was up before six, dressed quickly and mounted
on deck. It had been raining in the night and the wet wool of the sheep
smelt very badly, whilst passing the English lighthouse, the syren on
our ship whistled loudly, calling out the pilot, who came alongside on a
small skiff; a rope-ladder was dropped, and the pilot clambered on board.
At half-past six we landed at Blackwall. After having passed through
the customs on a floating raft, we then took the train to London. We
regretted that we couldn’t enter London by the docks, but it was Sunday,
and the boats going that way had a holiday.