‘She brought
Haarlem to the edge of victory, and the enemy to its knees’
I first encountered the legend of Kenau
Hasselaar when I overheard a professor and his students at the University of
Leiden’s library in 1994, and was immediately captivated. The professor spoke
about the savage sixteenth century Dutch Revolt against the invading Spanish
King Phillip II, the revolt that inspired one woman’s fight to preserve the
lifestyle that her family had nurtured for generations. Kenau’s battle was the
seven-month Siege of Haarlem, 1572-1573. The professor recited the legend of
this spirited aristocrat who had been driven to form an army of three hundred
women soldiers. He said that Kenau had trained them to fight the Spanish back
from the walls of Haarlem, but had refused to wear armour.
From the moment Kenau entered my
consciousness, I determined to learn every possible detail about this
inspirational female character, a woman that was grist to the mill of my own
life story. Although I’d always written, I had spent my career at the time
travelling a man’s world; I’d thought nothing of working as a chef in all-male
brigades, and was the first woman in the British Merchant Navy to work in the
North Sea.
My first surprise was that in the
Netherlands the name Kenau was
synonymous with the derogative, Bitch.
If Kenau Hasselaar had indeed been a Dutch war heroine, I couldn’t understand
why she was so maligned by modern Dutch society. After a thorough search of the
Amsterdam women’s library, and various other institutions, I was baffled to
find nothing more solid than a couple of cursory, albeit reliable, reference
works and some old, unreliable stories of Kenau’s part in the siege. I found a
tapestry of Kenau in Amsterdam’s Rijksmuseum, but it wasn’t until some years
later that paintings of Kenau Hasselaar were available online.
It seemed to me that legends have a lot
to answer for, after all these years the fable that Kenau Hasselaar was a
dedicated cutthroat for the sake of it should have morphed into something more
honourable. She may indeed have been a hellcat, but she must have been so much
more besides. Some legends just beg interrogation.
Having visited Haarlem many times to research Kenau
Hasselaar’s role in the siege, I enlisted the help of a few eminent historians,
one of whom explained that Kenau must have been a frequent visitor to the
Cityhouse to meet with Haarlem’s magistrates in order to collect writs that
she’d handed to her debtors, some whom lived as far afield as Delft.
Luckily, those official meetings were well documented,
otherwise no personal information would have survived about Kenau’s lifestyle,
at least publically. One historian suggested to me that Kenau might have been
quite an unwelcome sight at the Cityhouse, just for that reason alone. I don’t
think she’d have been too happy with anyone poking about in her affairs,
however, which is why I was so keen to get my facts right. My novel rigorously
follows the historical details of the siege itself, which was fortunately well
documented. It is a remarkable history that needs no embellishment, and the
more I discovered, the deeper went my respect for Kenau Hasselaar, and indeed
all the courageous citizens of Haarlem, particularly the women who withstood
the brutality of sixteenth century warfare.
My second big surprise was that in Northern Europe at the
time, when a city was under attack, women had always fought. Towns and cities
were built with ramparts, they were formed as citadels, or bastions, and when
attacked everyone defended their home. This was early modern feminism in
action. Women were probably more vicious in battle than we’ve ever given them
credit for, and as a woman I feel particularly touched by accounts of man’s
inhumanity towards women. I immediately put myself in Kenau’s shoes; as a
mature Dutch woman, mother, and no fool, Kenau must have known that once those
marauding Spaniards broke through the bulwarks and gates of Haarlem, she and
her daughters, sisters and nieces would lose their lives in ways too terrible
to contemplate. So Kenau wasted no time in contemplating the obvious; she
rounded up three hundred of Haarlem’s toughest, most formidable women, and
taught them how to defend themselves; to fight off the enemy, and to protect
their beloved city. But first they rebuilt the decrepit walls of Haarlem.
Then they waited.
I believe that writing about any
national legend carries a great deal of responsibility, but having researched
the war in great detail, including Haarlem’s and Kenau’s role in the siege, I
agree with certain academics that Kenau’s name has, at times, been denigrated.
Legends can be exaggerated, but they don’t make themselves. I am always gripped
by the sort of mind that cannot even contemplate defeat. Perhaps Kenau would
not have been the sort of woman you’d want at your dinner party, and quite a
challenging woman to get to know, or even like, on a personal level. As a
character she certainly eluded me for a good while. I owe a debt of gratitude
to those who have researched and written about Kenau Hasselaar, whatever their
bias.