A place that refuses to give up its grace has a really touching quality. One such example is the Hotel Des Indes in The Hague, a monument that has endured three wars, diplomatic turbulence, and the ever-evolving tide of history while continuing to serve tea with the same elegance as it did in the 1800s. Its survival is emotional, cultural, and incredibly significant in addition to being architectural.
Constructed in 1858 as Baron van Brienen’s private mansion, the building’s imposing appearance was intended to capture the honor of The Hague. When it first opened as a hotel in 1881, it became into a gathering place for diplomats, artists, and nobles who helped to form the history of the city. Like an orchestra playing despite the storms outside, the hotel’s personality remained unaffected by the marks of each age.
The Grand Hotel That Survived Three Wars and Still Serves Tea
| Category | Details |
|---|---|
| Hotel Name | Hotel Des Indes |
| Location | The Hague, Netherlands |
| Built | 1858 as a city palace for Baron van Brienen |
| Converted to Hotel | 1881 |
| Survived Conflicts | Three major wars, including World War I and World War II |
| Signature Tradition | Afternoon tea served daily in its historic lounge |
| Architectural Style | Neo-classical with grand salons, marble interiors, and gilded details |
| Notable Guests | Winston Churchill, Anna Pavlova, Josephine Baker, Dalai Lama, and Claude Debussy |
| Ownership | Elite Hotels Group |
| Reference | www.hoteldesindesthehague.com |
Despite the Netherlands’ neutrality during World War I, Hotel Des Indes was nevertheless affected by the mayhem surrounding it. With its gilded walls absorbing the strain of a continent in crisis, it became a quiet witness to deliberations and whispered peace talks. The hotel hosted history throughout those years, one pot of tea at a time, in addition to housing tourists.
The story took a darker turn with the arrival of World War II. The Hague was overrun by German soldiers, and the Wehrmacht took control of the Hotel Des Indes. The sound of soldiers’ boots filled the ballroom where lavish meals had once taken place. However, the workers maintained some dignity even throughout occupation. Generations of staff members have told a story about the hotel manager’s refusal to put up a bust of Hitler in the lobby. Silent resistance evolved into its own form.
The structure served as a refuge once more after the war, this time for exhausted diplomats and Allied leaders attempting to reconstruct Europe. Winston Churchill came to visit. Actors like Charlie Chaplin and Josephine Baker, as well as spies and artists, did the same. Once again, the clinking of teacups and laughing lit up the Grand Hall, which had been clouded by war. Like tea, history was generously spilled and shared.
There is something quite creative about the hotel’s ability to maintain its core. Hotel Des Indes opted for continuity when other opulent European hotels embraced post-war modernism. Instead of being replaced, its chandeliers were polished. Instead of being redesigned, its tapestries were repaired. Every decision felt deliberate and was based on the idea that, with the right care, elegance can withstand anything.
One of the most elegant experiences in the Netherlands is still its afternoon tea. The ceremony, which is served under towering ceilings and features photos of long-deceased guests, is much more than just a supper. The same hand-polished silver teapots and small-batch scones prepared by cooks who know they’re upholding a tradition rather than just a recipe are examples of endurance.
Everything is made in-house by the pastry crew, which is a feature that seems especially uncommon these days. There isn’t any hurry, noise, or pretense. It is a measured, serene, and profoundly human experience. Visitors frequently characterize it as entering a different period where talks are important and time extends. It’s a warm and precise form of hospitality that seems incredibly efficient without being rushed.
The hotel’s literary and musical ties are equally fascinating. While residing in Suite 200 in 1905, composer Claude Debussy completed the composition for La Mer, taking inspiration from the delicate rhythms of the North Sea. After discovering that the Great Hall’s acoustics were exceptionally good for live orchestral performances, the BBC later used it for classical broadcasts during the interwar years. The hotel’s essence was infused with each echo.
In addition to its opulence, Hotel Des Indes’ philosophy is what makes it so timeless. It exudes confidence rather than demanding attention. Its employees still give visitors a nod that seems sincere rather than staged. Its furnishings make a gentle creaking sound, as though to remind you of their age, but everything seems well-maintained. It is a very long-lasting service—hospitality as workmanship instead of performance.
Under the direction of French designer Jacques Garcia, it was restored in the early 2000s with remarkable tact. Garcia added modest modern comforts like soft textiles, muted lighting, and contemplative artwork while maintaining the old-world charm. Instead of innovation, the outcome was renewal, proving that heritage can change with grace.
You can practically feel the passing of time as you move through its hallways—the reverberation of diplomats’ talks, the silence of commands during the war, and the laughing of post-war artists rediscovering joy. The weight of memory is carried by every velvet chair, metal handle, and chandelier, but none of it feels heavy. Rather, it seems to be alive, as though history itself has taken solace in these walls.
As tourists’ focus has changed from spectacle to substance in recent years, the hotel’s understated confidence feels remarkably pertinent. It is not dependent on fads or ostentatious designs. Something more subtly appealing about it is the assurance of continuity and an uninterrupted tradition of care. In an era of perpetual innovation, the hotel provides continuity by serving tea in the same lounge where poets previously wrote and generals once gathered.
Maybe it is why Hotel Des Indes is still important. It is a living institution rather than a museum exhibit, with its walls absorbing the beat of every generation that goes by. It encourages visitors to stop, take a sip, and dream rather than just stay. Its legacy lies not in having survived three wars but in teaching us that patience, warmth, and quiet strength are all necessary for perseverance, just like great tea.
