Marita Mathijsen

Jacob van Lennep's lifetime (1802-1868) corresponds to a period when the Northern Netherlands was very much not the happening place in European culture. Britain, Germany, France, and even the Southern Netherlands (Belgium from the 1830s on) were modernising, industrialising, philosophising, and producing internationally-relevant writers, painters, musicians and scientists by the bucketful, whilst the Northern Netherlands was still stuck deep in the post-Napoleonic economic dip, and had show more trouble seeing beyond the tip of its own perfectly-formed seventeenth-century nose. There's really only one mid-19th-century Dutch writer who has had any long-term influence in the wider world, and that's Multatuli (E Douwes Dekker), the whistle-blower of Dutch colonialism.

Van Lennep was versatile, talented, witty, privileged, and above all provided with apparently inexhaustible reserves of energy, and his contemporaries — even those who didn't like him — treated him as one of the leading Dutch literary figures of the age, but his vast body of prose fiction, non-fiction, verse and stage-work was almost entirely taken up with a Romantic/antiquarian, Walter-Scott-like interest in Dutch history that proved to be of little interest to later generations of readers. He also shared Scott's rather conservative (absolutist, anti-Catholic) political attitudes, quite out of tune with the spirit of 1848.

But that doesn't stop him from being an interesting figure from a period of Dutch history we don't often hear much about, apart from the big constitutional questions. Mathijsen has obviously had plenty of experience teaching 19th century literature to students who don't know their Alberdingk Thijm from their Thorbecke, so she tactfully and efficiently fills us in on the historical background as she goes along, and takes care to situate van Lennep within that background. In fact, the book often comes close to turning into a cultural history of early to mid 19th-century Amsterdam, which I found fascinating, since so much of it was stuff I only knew about very sketchily.

Despite his huge output of published work, what's probably van Lennep's most-read work nowadays is, ironically enough, a private diary he never intended for publication, describing a walking-tour of the Netherlands he took with another privileged Leiden student in the summer vacation of 1823, getting to know the country in which both of them expected to take up official posts later on. That diary is very revealing in the way it shows the apparent contradiction in van Lennep's character between his serious, socially-concerned side and his drinking, gambling and womanising. Oddly-enough, as he got older, it seems to have been the serious side that became less important: the wildness became more discreet, but it never went away. Even in his sixties he was still fathering illegitimate children, and no-one ever seems to have painted him without giving him a mischievous twinkle in the eye.

Mathijsen has fun disentangling some of this misbehaviour, which, needless to say, is the only bit of van Lennep's life that is not vastly over-documented in the family archives. The most interesting puzzle is Geertruijda Elisabeth Tulle, born in 1822 (when Jacob was 19), but only legally acknowledged as his daughter in 1855. The circumstances suggest that her real mother must have been someone out of Jacob's own social circle, the working-class woman who registered her birth being paid to act as foster-mother. Mathijsen hazards a couple of guesses as to who it might have been (entertainingly, almost all the women in van Lennep's life at this point were called Henriette...), but concludes, regretfully, that there simply isn't enough evidence to be sure.

Altogether, a very interesting and engaging biography of someone who did quite a few important things in his life — not only preparing the first comprehensive modern edition of Vondel, but providing Amsterdam with numerous statues and a safe, clean water supply, and shepherding the two prickliest pseudonymous writers of the age, Multatuli and De Schoolmeester, into print for the first time. Not that Multatuli thanked him for it: there was a long period of acrimony and law-suits over the first edition of Max Havelaar, in which Multatuli has tended to get the last word, leaving van Lennep with the reputation of the scoundrel exploiting the poor unknown. Mathijsen treats Multatuli's accusations of copyright theft as paranoia and misunderstanding, but she does concede that van Lennep probably went too far in "taming" the book for publication. Quite apart from his habitual conservative repugnance at the whole idea of a protest novel, he had sons and sons-in-law working in Indonesia, and many of his close friends were involved in the colonial trade. show less

At the end of May 1823, two young men who had just finished their studies in Leiden set out from Amsterdam to spend a summer exploring the Netherlands on foot. Both were members of distinguished, patrician families: Jacob van Lennep was the son of a classics professor, and would become a well-known author, editor and politician (amongst other things he was responsible for getting the controversial first edition of Max Havelaar into print), whilst Dirk van Hogendorp's father was one of the show more most distinguished statesmen of the day (...but the son would be remembered for little else after this walk).

They were on the road, walking, sailing and taking coaches, for just over three months, in one of the wettest summers they could have found. The trip was obviously partly a student adventure holiday, to get away from parents and burn off a bit of post-exam energy (the predictable feats of physical endurance, drinking sessions, gambling, and the occasional opportunity to flirt with young women met along the way...), but there was also an element of social and political responsibility. Both men had come under the influence of Willem Bilderdijk's post-Napoleonic reactionary political theories, and were keen to see for themselves how enlightenment liberalism was failing Dutch society (as it surely must be). Consequently, when they arrive somewhere, they don't just look at the church and the town hall, but they get shown around the workhouse, prison, orphanage or hospital and ask sharp questions about how they are funded and run. There seems to have been an element of "tour of inspection" too - the local officials are well aware that van Hogendorp senior will be hearing about any deficiencies they identify.

And there was some serious social networking going on - everywhere they go they meet important people who are related to one or other of them, have children who studied with them, or are friends of their parents or professors. A lot of connections are being made with a view to the roles the two of them expect to play in later life. (In the later chapters there's an element of farce in this - every coach that passes them on the road seems to have a few van Lennep cousins in it...)

So there is quite a lot of arrogance and privilege going on here, and occasionally it all gets a bit too much - when they are mistaken for ordinary people by an innkeeper or arrested as suspected vagrants by a gendarme, the pleasure they take in humiliating these unfortunates (by raising their voices, dropping names or flashing their credentials) is positively revolting. But van Lennep is a magnificently engaging storyteller, and he can somehow charm us into going along with his presumption of superiority most of the time. And he isn't quite as bad as all that. When he isn't standing on his dignity, he is as often as not falling into the mud, getting blisters on his feet, or regretting how much he drank at lunchtime. And he has a sympathetic insight into the lives of many of the people he meets that transcends differences of class and standing.

The diary was never intended to be read in its original form by anyone outside his immediate family (it was written as serial letters to a sister), and it's wonderfully frank about people he considers vain, ugly, hypocritical or dim-witted. And there are some glorious scenes which are built up with all the care of a chapter in a 19th century novel, like the incident when they meet two young women in an inn who seem to be members of their own class, but they aren't quite sure - there's a glorious description of their carefully circling conversation, in which neither side can be so rude as to ask the other's names directly, but they both try to home in on whom exactly they are talking to by means of leading questions. Eventually it turns out that they know the brother of one of the girls, so that's all right...

There is little obvious structure in the course of the journey, which zig-zags around in most confusing ways, but the diary does have a kind of structure, starting off with highly detailed descriptions of everything and gradually petering out until it finally disappears into the mud of Zeeland.

There is a clear emotional climax with the description of the Ommerschans, an institution set up by a charity with the entirely benevolent intention of ending the problem of vagrancy and giving beggars the chance to earn their living, but without any thought for the fact that most people who became beggars did so because they were physically unable to work. Ommerschans solved the problem by permitting inmates who couldn't work to starve to death well out of sight of the people who sent them there. Van Lennep described the cruelty and horror of the system with merciless precision, and identifies the things that have to change, but obviously no-one wanted to listen to him at the time. It's not surprising that the jolly student-romp atmosphere of the trip rather fades away after this point.

(The diary was never published in van Lennep's lifetime - a heavily redacted edition was brought out by M. Elisabeth Kluit in 1942. Mathijsen's edition originally appeared in 2000 under the title Lopen met van Lennep as a tie-in to the TV series directed by Theo Uittenbogaard and presented by Geert Mak. A revised edition with updated notes appeared in 2018 under the title De zomer van 1823.) show less

De afwezigheid van het verleden was published in a series of pamphlets on contemporary issues in Dutch society. With its emphasis on (the lack of) shared tangible and intangible cultural heritage that could help describe the national identity of the Netherlands, it resembles the pamphlet Denkend aan Holland by Thomas Rosenboom, published in the same series.

National identity preoccupied the Dutch shortly into the new millennium. Dutch nationalists tried to rewrite the Dutch canon, determine show more who could claim the title of "greatest Dutchman of all times" and decide what are the core values of Dutch culture.

The Dutch historian Marita Mathijsen apparently belongs to the more liberal school who believes that the Dutch are characterised by a lack of nationalism. Or rather, as she argues in this pamphet a total indifference about it.

De afwezigheid van het verleden is a lamentation of the loss of cultural identity and tradition. Local culture is increasingly replaced by international uniformity, and local variation is reduced. While Dutch green grocers would carry 20 apple races in the past, which would typically be on offer at different times tyhroughout the season between May and October, supermarkets nowadays merely sell three apple races the whole year round.

In Dutch cities few buildings are marked as birthplaces of famous occupants. Street names follow odd fashion trends rather than pointing to historical localities or features.

The tone of the pamphlet is more pessimistic than optimistic. The author concludes we can not expect much from the government. Somewhat doubtful she concludes and call for action of the public to stop the downward spiral. show less

Zeker had ik van Jacob van Lennep gehoord, als schrijver in ieder geval en omdat een straat hierachter naar hem is vernoemd én ik associeerde hem met een flinke wandeltocht. Dat klopt, maar er is zoveel meer en Marita Mathijsen legt dit allemaal uit in zijn biografie Een bezielde schavuit.

De man leefde van 1802 tot 1868 en heeft een groot stempel gedrukt op de Amsterdamse én Nederlandse samenleving van de 19e eeuw. Hij was advocaat, politicus, romanschrijver, dichter, toneelschrijver, show more historicus, editeur, taalkundige en beschermer van oudheden. Hij stond aan de basis van het Koninklijk Oudheidkundig Genootschap, de verbetering van het Nederlands toneel, het Vondel- én het Rembrandtstandbeeld, het behoud van de Ridderzaal, schoon drinkwater in Amsterdam, het Amstel Hotel, het Noordzeekanaal, de uitgave van Max Havelaar én de bescherming van oudheden in Nederland.

Zo begon het echter niet. Van Lennep stond in zijn studententijd onder invloed van de ‘dompers’ Bilderdijk en Da Costa. Streng gelovig en ver verwijderd van de zelfbewuste man die hij zou worden. Dat stelt de auteur ook voor een probleem;

Ikzelf althans heb er moeite mee Van Lennep te portretteren als iemand die werkelijk punnikte aan de pre-destinatiegedachte en gebukt ging onder religieus schuldbesef. Ik zie liever de vrolijke frans, de schaterlachende verteller, de plannenmaker, de oprichter van monumenten, de editeur van Vondel, de monumentenbeschermer, de helper van mensen in nood, en ook de vrouwenjager is me lief.

Van Lennep verloor al jong zijn moeder en dat zou volgens de biograaf een thema in zijn leven blijven. Vrouwenjager was hij ook en hij wordt met 20 jaar al vader van een dochter. Hij zal haar erkennen maar het wordt nooit bekend wie de moeder is. Hij trouwt en zal één dochter en vijf zonen krijgen.

Dat van die wandeltocht klopt, hij maakt met een vriend een voetreis door Nederland. Daarna gaat hij schrijven en publiceert hij romantische gedichten en dito verhalen. Zijn vader is hij opgevolgd als rijksadvocaat, een beroep dat hij tot zijn dood zal uitoefenen. Hij tracht uit zijn huwelijk te breken door met ene Doortje Ringeling naar Engeland te vluchten maar zijn vader belet hem dat. Hij keert terug bij zijn vrouw en Doortje stierf alleen. Dat leidde overigens tot een mooie reactie van een familielid van Doortje op het blog van de auteur.

Het boek geeft een razend interessante inkijk in de 19e eeuw en zijn moraal. De boeken die Van Lennep publiceert worden niet allemaal even goed ontvangen. Hij krijgt een lading kritiek als hij de Vaderlandse geschiedenis met enige humor en illustraties uitgeeft. De wereld was nog niet klaar voor een fragment als dit:

De moord op graaf Floris I wordt gadegeslagen door de keukenmeid die het zonde vindt dat de moordenaar de man in bed doodsteekt door het beddengoed heen:

“Och, meneer! – sprak de meid – wat een zunde veur die mooie noppiesdeken!”
“Hoû je stil, ouê Trijn! dat is gestopt met drie steken.”

De auteur geeft in de epiloog aan dat het een enorme klus is geweest om research voor dit boek te doen, juist omdat er zoveel bewaard is gebleven. Talloze brieven, zijn Vondel-project, rechtbankverslagen, zijn complete oeuvre, vergaderverslagen uit de Tweede kamer en al die instituten waarbij hij betrokken was. Gelukkig is dat wel gebeurd want al die fragmenten vormen de meerwaarde van dit boek. Je bent er zelf bij, zoals bij de verwikkelingen over de grondwetswijziging. Van Lennep uitte kritiek op die wijzigingen met het argument dat de Amsterdamse bevolking daar helemaal niet achter stond. Dat leverde hem de volgende schrobbering op van het Algemeen Handelsblad:

Waarlijk, Mijnheer Van Lennep, nu maakt gij het wat al te bont: Uw brief aan Mr. D. Donker Curtius loopt de spuigaten uit, en gelijk gij durft te veronderstellen, dat de commissie van herziening eenige artikelen der grondwet na den eten of ’s morgens heel vroeg in een uur van slaperigheid zou hebben opgesteld, komen wij tot de stellige overtuiging, dat gij in eene bui van groote opgewondenheid, welligt na een of ander souper, u aan het schrijven hebt gezet, en al schrijvende zulk een welbehagen in u zelven gekregen hebt, dat gij niet kondet uitscheiden, maar u op het laatst wel moest verbeelden, dat gij de ziel waart, zoo niet van het geheele land, dan toch van Amsterdam […]. Waart gij het verzenmaken of romanschrijven beû, gelijk u zeker de rijksbelastingzaken reeds lang de keel uithangen, welnu, goed, bemoei u dan ook eens met andere rijksbelangen dan die van de belasting; maar bemoei u dan alleen met de landstaal: daar zijt gij in uw element.

Die kon hij in zijn zak steken. Het boek staat vol met zulke fragmenten, evenals met prachtige illustraties over de hoofdpersonen en uitgaven van zijn werk. De genoemde epiloog is een mooie afsluiter van dit boek, waarin Mathijsen aangeeft dat ze drie draden heeft proberen te vervlechten tot één draad; de zoektocht naar de moeder, het werken aan maatschappelijke vooruitgang en bekommernis om zwakken. Daarin moest de vreemde tweespalt in zijn karakter ook een plaats krijgen, de religieuze tobber uit zijn vroege jaren en de gedreven en maatschappelijk betrokken burger uit zij latere jaren. Het heeft mij mateloos geboeid. show less