Dutch Life in Town and Country | Page 8

her husband, and we as their guests have been invited at a
friend's house. She intends to go earlier; he and we are to follow later in
the evening, for that evening his 'Krans' is to meet at his house, and it
will keep us till eleven o'clock. A 'Krans' is simply a small company of
very good friends who meet, as a rule, once a month, at the house of
one of them, and at such meetings converse about things in general.
The English word for 'Krans' is 'wreath,' and the name indicates the
intimate and thoroughly friendly relations existing between the
composing members. They are twisted and twined together not merely
by affectionate feeling, but also by equality of social position,
education, and intelligence.
Our friend's little circle numbers seven, and as every one of them
happens to be the leading man in his profession in that town, and in

consequence wields a powerful influence, their 'Krans' is generally
nicknamed the 'Heptarchy.' Our friend the lawyer is not only a popular
legal adviser, but as 'Wethouder' (alderman) for finance and public
works he is the much-admired originator of the rejuvenated town. The
place had been fortified in former days, but after the home defence of
Holland was re-organized and a System of defence on a coherent and
logically conceived basis accepted, all fortified towns disappeared and
became open cities, of which this was one. The public-spirited lawyer
grasped the situation at once, and, spurred by his influence and
enthusiasm, the Town Council adopted a large scheme of streets, roads,
parks, and squares, so that when all was completed the inhabitants of
the old city scarcely knew where they were. Besides this, he is legal
adviser of the local branch of the Netherlands Bank, a director on the
boards of various limited companies, and the president-director of a
prosperous Savings Bank. Nevertheless, he finds time in his crowded
life to read a great deal, to see his friends occasionally, and to keep up
an incessant courtship of his handsome wife, who in return asseverates
that he is the most sociable husband in the world.
After Walraven has returned to the tea table, his admiring consort
leaves us, and shortly afterwards his best friend, within and without the
'Krans,' Dr. Klaassen, appears on the scene. He and Dr. Klaassen were
students at the same University, and nothing is better fitted to form
lifelong friendship than the freedom of Holland's University life and
University education. Dr. Klaassen is one of the most attractive types
of the Dutch medical man. His University examinations did not tie him
too tightly to his special science. Like ail Dutch students, he mixed
freely with future lawyers, clergymen, philosophers, and philologists,
and it is often said that while the University teaches young men chiefly
sound methods of work, students in Holland acquire quite as much
instruction from each other as from their professors. Doctor Klaassen
left the University as fresh as when he entered it, and ready to take a
healthvariousest in all departments of human affairs. He is a man to
whom the Homeric phrase might well be applied--'A physician is a man
knowing more than many others.'
His non-professional work takes him to the boards and comrmttees of
societies promoting charity, ethics, religion, literature, and the fine arts.
The local branch of the famous 'Maatschappÿ tot Nut van 't Algemeen'

(the 'Society for promoting the Common-weal') and its various
institutions, schools, libraries, etc., find in him one of their most
energetic and faithful directors; a local hospital admitting people of all
religions denominations has grown up by his untiring energy; and he
prepared the basis upon which younger men afterwards built what is
now a model institution in Holland; nor does he forget the poor and the
orphans, to whom he gives quite half his time, though how much of his
money he gives them nobody knows, least of all he himself.
The Reverend Mr. Barendsen, the third arrival, is a very different
person. His sermons are eloquent; he is a fluent speaker--too fluent,
some say, for words and phrases come so easily to him that the lack of
thought is not always felt by this preacher, although noticed by his
flock. Now, a sermon for Dutch Protestants is a difficult thing; it has to
be long enough to fill nearly a whole service of about two hours; and it
is listened to by educated and uneducated people, who all expect to be
edified. Dominee Barendsen, like so many of his colleagues, tries to
meet this difficulty by giving light nourishment in an attractive form.
But if his sermons do not succeed as well as his kind intentions deserve,
his influence is firmly established by his sympathetic personality. He
may be much more superficial than his