AS SEEN FROM A DUTCH WINDOW* 



By James Howard Gore, Ph. D. 



Professor of Mathematics, George Washington University 



IN looking out upon the busy life of 

 Holland, one does not look 

 "through a glass darkly." If so, 

 it is not because the window-glass is not 

 clean. The fondness of the Dutch for 

 window-washing is innate and of an- 

 cient origin. Guicciardini, who gave to 

 the world in 1567 his graphic description 

 of the low counties and their people, said 

 the pleasure of walking along the streets 

 of a Netherland town is marred by the 

 danger one continually runs of being 

 sprinkled by the pumps with which the 

 servant girls wash the windows. But 

 that was in the good old times of long 

 ago. Now the servant girls do not wash 

 the windows, at least not in the cities. 

 Here the windows are attended to by a 

 company — that is, one of many compa- 

 nies, for there are so many that they 

 now add to their signs and business 

 cards the date of organization. 



When I first saw one of their carts 

 loaded with ladders of various lengths 

 and pushed by men dressed in white, I 

 thought they were house-painters who 

 had forgotten their brushes. But in a 

 few days I saw one of these ladders 

 deftly hoisted in front of my window, 

 and before the thought of fire and rescue 

 formed itself in my mind, a white-coated 

 man was washing my window. He did 

 it well and quickly. Quickly, of course, 

 for the company received only two 

 (Dutch) cents for that wash, and of that 

 amount the workman has only a share. 

 For this reason, and because of the lively 

 competition, the carts of the "Glasen- 

 wascherij" companies flit rapidly from 

 place to place. A householder subscribes 

 for the services of these window- 

 washers, securing a visit once a month 

 or more frequently, if he desires, and 

 pays two cents a window, large or small, 

 first story or fifth. 



In Holland, as well as in other parts 



of Europe, the method of subscribing for 

 a service that is somewhat regular is 

 quite common ; and if you wish to pro- 

 vide for a contingency that may happen, 

 but which you hope may not occur, you 

 can protect yourself by insurance, be it 

 the breaking of a window or an attack of 

 whooping-cough. 



My window is not only clean, but is 

 provided with "spies," sometimes called 

 "busy-bodies," as the outside mirrors are 

 named. My battery of spies enables me 

 to see at a glance what is transpiring 

 up the street and down the street, as well 

 as who is at the door, by merely sitting 

 at the window. 



The second house on the right is a 

 public-school building, one part of which 

 is the district police station, and 'now 

 and then an image is caught in the mir- 

 ror of some malefactor brought to judg- 

 ment, attended by the usual crowd of 

 curious idlers. It is a veritable judg- 

 ment. The inspector at once has a pre- 

 liminary hearing, a sort of grand- jury 

 trial, and dismisses the prisoner, imposes 

 the fine, or, if the charge be serious and 

 well-founded, remands him for trial. 

 Should the culprit be found guilty of 

 some minor misdemeanor, a slight im- 

 prisonment is imposed. While great 

 rigor is observed in seeing that the full 

 time is spent in prison, the days of serv- 

 ing the sentence is optional, provided the 

 offender is a man of property or can fur- 

 nish adequate security. 



One of the common offenses is the 

 failure to observe the sign that is posted 

 at the beginning of some of the streets : 

 "It is forbidden to drive in here." In 

 passing, it might be said that this forbid- 

 ding notice does not signify, as some 

 writers on Holland have asserted, that 

 the leaning houses threatening to fall 

 make the street dangerous. It simply 

 means that the traffic is so srreat that 



* By courtesy of the Holland-America Steamship Line. 



