Address by P. W. Waldeck, Ambassador, The Netherlands Embassy at the opening of Turmoil and Tranquillity, Thursday 19 June

Ladies and gentlemen,

Imagine yourself at home and having switched on your television set. Whatever programme you choose to watch – film, soap, news show, crime series, documentary – in four out of five there will be at least peril, if not violence, suffering and death.

Publicly you loathe it. Privately you have to admit that you are captivated in an inquisitive way by the danger and menace inflicted upon human beings.

Imagine hanging on the wall of your drawing-room a picture vividly depicting an imminent crash of a wide body aircraft – our modern world’s preferred means of transport – on a distant, less than scenic but rock-hard runway.

You can’t.

After all, it is enough that the telly is giving you your daily ration of man’s mortality and insignificance.

P.W. Waldeck's address at the Turmoil and Tranquillity launch Television did not exist in the 16th and 17th centuries, but the parable is there when you look at the great number of pictures of helpless ships inescapably adrift towards thundering surf breaking on inhospitable shores. There was apparently a good market for this kind of picture among the God-fearing, industrious people of the Low Countries.

The revolt against the most Catholic Spanish overlords and the subsequent menacing of the small rebel Dutch republic by virtually all great powers of Europe made them realise that their struggle for survival could only by won by the fierce protection of the freedom of the Netherlands’ single natural resource – trade – at sea.

Trade profits could be lost overnight in one single accident or battle at sea. So morale and confidence had to be boosted. Pride, often a source of embarrassment in Holland,
had to be flattered. So another popular genre was added to the many examples of “Shipping off a rocky coast”. That was the depiction of the battle scene. Scenes of heroic endeavour, turning, of course, the advantage to the young Dutch fleet engaging a host of foes, conveniently leaving out the horrors of the splintering timbers and the crashing cannon balls on the gun decks. The opponents were the Spanish, the Barbary and Dunkirk pirates, the French, the Dances and the Swedes, but most of all, our favourite rival, the English.

An excellent choice of 76 representative examples of these ‘seascapes’, as they are called, from the collection of the National Maritime Museum goes on show today. The central element in these magnificent paintings is the sea.

Ever since the Low Countries became inhabited, people learned to live with the sea, night and day. The sea gives, the sea takes away. The sea is friend and foe alike to the Dutch. Our system of democracy basically originates from the vital need of common struggle to keep our feet dry. We learned to harness the sea; however, like a horse, the sea can never be conquered. Our national identity can be easily traced back to the whims of the water.

The unpredictability of the sea mood is well captured in the alliterative title of the exhibition: Turmoil and Tranquillity. It is the Dutch and Flemish masters of the 16th and 17th centuries who have indeed come close to conquering the sea by fixing its capriciousness on panel and canvas.

Like landscapes and townscapes, the maritime variety is decorated with geological and architectural elements which are symbols of human strife. The ships, worn by rough seas or heat of battle, represent the turmoil connected with hope and concord. Graceful coastlines offer the tranquillity of ultimate salvation and prosperity.

So, ladies and gentlemen, go and admire the almost pastoral way in which masters like Jan Porcellis and Simon de Vlieger captured the changing moods of the sea in colour and light and in the rhythm of the waves. Have a closer look at the meticulously painted sea battles of Abraham Storck and in particular those of the Willem van de Veldes.

The dreadnoughts of the First World War may have been called castles of steel, but they will never have the same impact on panel or canvas as the Golden Lion or the Seven Provinces, the Royal Charles or the Royal Prince. These ships are the true cathedrals of the sea.

Ladies and gentlemen, enjoy this marvellous exhibition of the sea through the eyes of Dutch and Flemish masters.

And when you get home, and switch on your television again, remember what you have experienced tonight: that ephemeral moments of human insignificance can be immortalized in art, in turmoil or in tranquillity.

Thank you.