Kermis and St. Nicholas

Of all the festivals and occasions of popular rejoicing and merriment in Holland none can compare with the Kermis and the Festival of St. Nicholas, which are in many ways peculiarly characteristic of Dutch life and Dutch love for primitive usage. The Kermis is particularly popular, because of the manifold amusements which are associated with it, and because it unites all classes of the population in the common pursuit of unsophisticated pleasure. As its name implies, the Kermis ('Kerk-mis') has a religious origin, being named after the chief part of the Church service, the mass. Just as the Feast of St. Baro received the name 'Bamisse,' so that of the consecration of the church was called the 'Church-mass,' or 'Kerk-mis.' In ancient times, if a church was consecrated on the name-day of a certain saint the church was also dedicated to that saint. Such a festival was a chief festival, or 'Hoof feest,' for a church, and it was not only celebrated with great pomp and solemnity, but amusements of all kinds were added to give the celebration a more festive character. In large towns there were Kermissen at different times of the year in different parishes, for each church was dedicated to a different saint, so that there were as many dedicatory feasts in a town as there were churches in it.

At a very early period in the nation's history the Church-masses began to wear a more worldly character, for the merchants made them an occasion for introducing their wares and trading with the people, just as they did at the ordinary 'year-markets.' These year-markets always fell on the same day as the Kermissen, but they had a different origin. They were held by permission of the Sovereign, and were first instituted to encourage trade; but gradually the Kermis and the year-market went hand-in-hand, for the people could no longer imagine a year-market without the Kermis amusements, or a Kermis without booths and stalls, so if there was not sufficient room for the latter to be built on the streets or squares, the priest allowed them to be put up in the churchyard or sometimes even in the church. Moreover, if it was not possible to have the year-market in the same week as the Kermis, then the Kermis was put off to suit the year-market, and these latter were of great aid to the religious festivals, for they attracted a greater number of people, and as dispensations were given for attending the masses both the churches and the markets benefited. The mass lasted eight days, and the year-market as long as the Church festival. The Church protected the year-markets, and rang them in. With the first stroke of the Kermis clock the year-market was opened and the first dance commenced, followed by a grand procession, in which all the principal people of the town took part, and when the last stroke died away white crosses were nailed upon all the bridges, and on the gates of the town. These served both as a passport and also as a token of the 'markt vrede' (market peace), so that any one seeing the cross knew that he might enter the town and buy and sell ad libitum, also that his peace and safety were guaranteed, and that any one who disturbed the 'markt vrede' would be banished from the place, and not be allowed to come back another year. In some places this yearly market was named, after the crosses, 'Cruyce-markt.'

Very festive is the appearance of a town in the Kermis week. On the opening day, at twelve o'clock, the bells of the cathedral or chief church are set ringing, and this is the sign for the booths to be opened and the 'Kermispret' to begin. Everywhere tempting stores are displayed to view, and although a scent of oil and burning fat pervades the air, nobody seems to mind that, for it only increases the delight the Kermis has in store for them. The stalls are generally set out in two rows. The most primitive of these is the stall of hard-boiled eggs and pickled gherkins, whose owner is probably a Jew, and pleasant sounds his hoarse voice while praising his wares high above all others. If he does prevail upon you to come and try one of his eggs and gherkins it only adds more relish to your meal when he tells you of the man who only paid one cent for a large gherkin which really cost two, and although he already had put it in his mouth he made him put the other part back. Or when you go to eat 'poffertjes,' which look so tempting, and with the first bite find a quid of tobacco in the inoffensive-looking little morsel, do not let this trifling incident disturb your equanimity, but try another booth. It is quite worth your while to stand in front of a 'poffertjeskraam' and see how they are made. The batter is simply buckwheat-meal mixed with water, and some yeast to make it light. Over a bright fire of logs is placed a large, square, iron baking-sheet with deep impressions for the reception of the batter. On one side sits a woman on a high stool, with a bowl of the mixture by her side and a large wooden ladle in her hand. This she dips into the batter, bringing it out full, then with a quick sweep of the arm she empties its contents into the hollows of the baking-sheet. A man standing by turns them dexterously one by one with a steel fork, and a moment later he pricks them six at a time on to the fork; this he docs four times to get a plateful, and then he hands it over to another man inside the booth, who adds a pat of butter and a liberal sprinkling of sugar. The 'wafelkramen' are not so largely patronized, as the price of these delicacies is rather too high for the slender purses of the average 'Kermis houwer,' but 'oliebollen'--round ball-shaped cakes swimming in oil--are within the reach of all, as they cost but a cent apiece. Servants and their lovers, after satisfying their appetites with these 'oliebollen,' go and have a few turns in the roundabouts by way of a change, and then hurry to the fish stall, where they eat a raw salted herring to counteract the effects of the earlier dissipation. The more respectable servant, however, turns up her nose at the herrings, and goes in for smoked eel. These fish-stalls are very quaint in appearance, for they are hung with garlands of dried 'scharretje' (a white, thin, leathery-looking fish), which dangle in front, and form a most original decoration. In the towns a separate day and evening are set apart for the servant classes to go to the fair, and there is also a day for the élite.

At the commencement of the reign of King William III. the whole Court, including the King and Queen, used to meet at The Hague Kermis on the Lange Voorhout on Thursday afternoons, between two and four o'clock, and walk up and down between the double row of stalls; and in the evening of that day they all visited either the most renowned circus of the season or went to see the 'Kermis stuk,' or special play acted in fan-time.

The servants' evening, as it is held in Rotterdam, is the most characteristic. It is an evening shunned by the more respectable people, for the 'Kermisgangers are a very rowdy lot. They amuse themselves chiefly by running along the streets in long rows, arm-in-arm, singing 'Hossen--hossen-hossen!' They also treat each other to 'Nieuw rood met suiker'--black currants preserved in gin with sugar--until they are all quite tipsy, and woe to any quiet pedestrian who has the misfortune to pass their way, for with loud 'Hi-has' they encircle him and make him 'hos' with them. The evening is commonly called the 'Aalbessen (black-currant) hos.'

National Amusements

Holland, like other countries, is indebted to primitive and classic times for most of its national amusements and children's games, which have been handed down from generation to generation. Many of the same games have been played under many differing Governments and opposing creeds. Hollander and Spaniard, Protestant and Catholic alike have found common ground in those games and sports which afford so welcome a break in daily work.

'Hinkelbaan,' for example, found its way into the Netherlands from far Phoenicia, whose people invented it. The game of cockal, 'Bikkelen,' still played by Dutch village children on the blue doorsteps of old-fashioned houses, together with 'Kaatsen,' was introduced into Holland by Nero Claudius Druses, and it is stated that he laid out the first 'Kaatsbaan.' The Frisian peasant is very fond of this game; and also of 'Kolven,' the older form of golf; and often on a Sunday morning after church he may be seen dressed in his velvet suit and low-buckled shoes, engaged in these outdoor sports. About a century ago a game called 'Malien' was universally played in South Holland and Utrecht. For this it was necessary to have a large piece of ground, at one end of which poles were erected, joined together by a porch. The bail was driven by a 'Mahen kolf,' a long stick with an iron head and a leather grip, and it had to touch both poles and roll through the porch. The 'Maheveld' at The Hague and the 'Mahebaan' at Utrecht remind one of the places in which this game was played.

In Friesland the Sunday game for youths is 'Het slingeren met Dimterkoek'--throwing Deventer cake. Four persons are required to play this game. The players divide themselves into opposite parties, and play against each other. First they toss up to see which of the parties and which of the boys shall begin. He on whom the lot falls is allowed to give his turn to his opponent, which he often does if, on feeling the cake, he notices that it is soft and liable to break easily. If, on the contrary, it is hard, he keeps the first throw for himself. Holding the cake firmly in his right hand, he takes a little run, bends backward, and with a sudden swing throws the cake forward (as one throws a stone) so that it flies away a good distance, breaking off just at the grip. This piece, called 'hanslik,' or handpiece, he must keep in his hand, for if he drops it he must let his turn pass by once, and his throw is not counted. The distance of the throw is now measured and noted down, whereupon one of the opposing party takes the piece of cake and throws it, and so it goes on alternately till each has had a turn. The distances of the throws of every two boys are counted together, and the side which has the most points wins.

There are also games played only at certain seasons of the year, as the 'Eiergaren' at Easter-time. This was very popular even in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. On Easter Monday all the village people betake themselves to the principal street of the 'dorp' to watch the 'eiergaarder.' At about two o'clock in the afternoon the innkeeper who provides the eggs appears upon the scene with a basket containing twenty-five. These he places on the road at equal distances of twelve feet from each other. In the middle of the road is then placed a tub of water, on which floats a very large apple, the largest he has been able to procure. Two men are chosen from the ranks of the villagers. The one is led to the tub, his hands are tied behind his back, and he is told to eat the floating apple; the other has to take the basket in his hand and pick up while running all the eggs and arrange them in the basket before the apple is eaten. He who finishes his task first is the winner, and carries off the basket of eggs as a prize. It provokes great fun to see the man trying to get hold of the floating-apple, which escapes so easily from the grasp of his teeth, but some men are wise enough to push the apple against the side of the tub, and of course as soon as they have taken one bite the rest is easily eaten. When the game is over, the greater number of the villagers go and drink to the good health of the winner at the public-house, and so the innkeeper makes a good thing out of this custom also, and for a game like this it is certainly wise to refresh one's self after the event. Skittles and billiards are very popular with the peasant and working classes on Sunday afternoons, the only free time a labourer has for recreation. Games of chance, also, in which skill is at a minimum, are as numerous in Holland as in any other country.

Children's games naturally occupy a large share in young Netherlands life, especially outdoor romping games. Of indoor games there are very few, a fact which may, perhaps, be accounted for by the custom of allowing children to play in the streets. In former days children of all classes played together in outdoor sports and games, and developed both their muscles and their republican character. Even Prince Frederik Hendrik (who was brother to and succeeded Prince Maurits in 1625), when at school at Leyden, mixed freely with his more humble companions, and was often mistaken for an ordinary schoolboy, and an old woman once sharply rebuked him for daring to use her boat-hook to fish his ball out of the water into which it had fallen. Nor did she notice to whom she was speaking until a passer-by called her attention to the fact that it was the Prince, whereupon the poor old soul became so frightened that she durst not venture out of her house for weeks from imaginary fear of falling into the clutches of the law, and ending her days in prison.

Games may be divided into two classes, those played with toys and those for which no toys are needed; but whatever the games may be they all have their special seasons. Once a man wrote an almanack on children's games, and noted down ail the different sports and their seasons, but, as the poet Huggens truly said,

'De kindren weten tyd van knickeren en kooten,
En zonder almanack en ist hen nooit ontschoten,'

which, freely translated, means that children know which games are in season by intuition, and do not need an almanack, so he might have saved himself the trouble. 'The children know the time to play marbles and "Kooten," and without an almanack have not forgotten.'

In the eighteenth century driving a hoop was as popular an amusement with children as it is now, only then it was also a sport, and prizes were given to the most skilful. In fact, hoop-races were held, and boys and girls alike joined in them. They had to drive their hoops a certain distance, and the one who first reached the goal received a silver coin for a prize. This coin was fastened to the hoop as a trophy, and the more noise a hoop made while rolling over the streets the greater the honour for the owner of it, for it showed that a great many prizes had been gained. In Drenthe the popular game for boys is 'Man ik sta op je blokhuis,' similar to 'I am the King of the Castle,' but there is also the 'Windspel.' For the latter a piece of wood and a ball are necessary. The wood is placed upon a pole and the ball laid on one side of it, then with a stick the child strikes as hard as possible the other side of the piece of wood, at the same time calling 'W-i-n-d,' and the ball flies up into the air, and may be almost lost to sight.

'Boer lap den Buis,' an exciting game from a boy's point of view, is a general favourite in Gelderland and Overyssel. For this the boys build a sort of castle with large stones, and after tossing up to see who is to be 'Boer,' the boy on whom the lot has fallen stands in the stone fortress, and the others throw stones at it from a distance, to see whether they can knock bits off it. As soon as one succeeds in doing so he runs to get back his stone, at the same time calling out 'Boer, lap den buis,' signifying that the 'Boer' must mend the castle. If the 'Boer' accomplishes this, and touches the bag before he has picked up his stone, they change places, and the game begins anew.

Little girls of the labouring classes have not much time for games of any sort, for they are generally required at home to act as nursemaids and help in many other duties of the home life, but sometimes on summer afternoons they bring out their younger brothers and sisters, their knitting and a skipping-rope, which they take in turns, and so pass a few pleasant hours free from their share (not an inconsiderable one) of household cares, or in the evenings, when the younger members of the family are in bed, they will be quite happy with a bit of rope and their skipping songs, of which they seem to know many hundreds, and which might be sung with equal reason to any other game under the sun for all the words have to do with skipping.

After a long spell of rain the first fall of snow is hailed with delight, for it is a sign that frost is not far off. Jack Frost, after several preliminary appearances in December, usually pays his first long visit in January (sometimes, however, this is but a flying visit of two or three days), and, as a rule, a Dutchman may reckon on a good hard winter. As soon, therefore, as he sees the snow he thinks of the good old saying--'Sneeuw op slik in drie dagen ys dun of dik' ('Snow on mud in three days' time, thin or thick'). Ice is to be expected, and he gets out his skates with all speed. This is one of the few occasions when the people of the Netherlands are enthusiastic. Certainly skating is the national sport. The ditches are always the first to be tried, as the water in them is very shallow, and naturally freezes sooner than the very deep and exposed waters of river and canal, over which the wind, which is always blowing in Holland, has fair play; but when once these are frozen, then skating begins in real earnest. The tracks are all marked out by the Hollandsche Ysvereeniging, a society which was founded in 1889 in South Holland, and which the other provinces have now joined. Finger-posts to point the way are put up by this society at all cross-roads and ditches, with notices to mark the dangerous places, while the newspapers of the day contain reports as to which roads are the best to take, and which trips can be planned. For people living in South Holland the first trip is always to the Vink at Leyden, as it can be reached by narrow streams and ditches, and it is quite a sight to see the skaters sitting at little tables with plates of steaming hot soup before them. The Vink has been famous for its pea soup many years, and has been known as a restaurant from 1768. When the Galgenwater is frozen (the mouth of the Rhine which flows into the sea at Kat wyk), then the Vink has a still gayer appearance, for not only skaters, but pedestrians from Leyden and the villages round about that town, flock to this cafe to watch the skating and enjoy the amusing scenes which the presence of the ice affords them. Then the broad expanse of water, which in summer looks so deserted and gloomy as it flows silently and dreamily towards the sea, is dotted ail over with tents, flags, 'baanvegers,' and, if the ice is strong, even sleighs.

Among the peasant classes of South Holland it is the custom, as soon as the ice will bear, to skate to Gouda, men and women together, there to buy long Gouda pipes for the men and 'Goudsche sprits' for the women, and then to skate home with these brittle objects without breaking them. As they come along side by side, the farmer holding his pipe high above his head and the woman carefully holding her bag of cakes, every passer-by knocks against them and tries to upset them, but it seldom happens that they succeed in doing so, as a farmer stands very firmly on his skates, and, as a rule, he manages to keep his pipe intact after skating many miles. The longest trip for the people of South Holland, North Holland, and Utrecht, is through these three provinces, and the way over the ice-clad country is quite as picturesque as in summer-time, the little mills, quaint old drawbridges, and rustic farmhouses losing nothing of their charm in winter garb. All along the banks of the canals and rivers little tents are put up to keep out the wind; a roughly fashioned rickety table stands on the ice under the shelter of the matting, and here are sold all manner of things for the skaters to refresh themselves with--hot milk boiled with aniseed and served out of very sticky cups, stale biscuits, and sweet cake. The tent-holders call out their wares in the most poetical language they can muster--

'Leg ereis an! Leg ereis an!
In het tentje by de man.
Warme melk en zoete koek
En een bevrozen vaatedoek.'

['Put up, put up
At the tent with the man;
Warm milk and sweet cake,
And a frozen dish-cloth.']

and they tell you plainly that you may expect unwashed cups, for the cloth wherewith to wipe them is frozen, as well as the water to cleanse them.

Under the bridges the ice is not always safe, and even if it has become safe the men break it up so that they may earn a few cents by people passing over their roughly constructed gangways, and so boards are laid down by the 'baanvegers' for the skaters to pass over without risking their lives. Besides making these wooden bridges, the 'baanvegers' keep the tracks clean. Every hundred yards or so one is greeted by the monotonous cry of 'Denk ereis an de baanveger,' so that on long trips these sweepers are a great nuisance, for having to get out one's purse and give them cents greatly impedes progress. The Ice Society has, however, minimized the annoyance by appointing 'baanvegers' who work for it and are paid out of the common funds, so that the members of the society who wear their badge can pass a 'baanveger' with a clear conscience, while as the result of this combination you can skate over miles of good and well-swept ice without interference for the modest sum of tenpence, this being the cost of membership of the society for the whole season.

Music and the Theatre

Singing was one of the principal social pastimes of the Dutch nation during the eighteenth and far into the nineteenth century, and the North Hollander was especially fond of vocal music. When young girls went to spend the evening at the house of a friend they always carried with them their 'Liederboek '--a volume beautifully bound in tortoise-shell covers or mounted with gold or silver. The songs contained in these books were a strange mixture of the gay and grave. Jovial drinking-songs or 'Kermisliedjes' would find a place next to a 'Christian's Meditation on Death.' It was an olla podrida, in which everybody's tastes were considered. Recitations were also a feature of these little gatherings.

Nowadays these national songs are rarely heard. French, Italian, and German songs have taken their place, and it is but seldom one hears a real Dutch song at any social gathering. The 'people,' too, seem to have forgotten their natural gift of poetry, for the only songs now heard about the streets are badly translated French or English ditties. If England brings out a comic song of questionable art, six months later that song will have made its way to Holland, and will have taken a popular place in a Dutch street musician's répertoire; it will be whistled in many different keys by butcher and baker boys, and will be heard issuing painfully from the wonderful mechanism of the superfluous concertina. For almost every one in Holland possesses some musical instrument on which he plays, well or otherwise, when his daily work is over, or on Sunday evenings at home. And here a notable characteristic of the Dutch higher classes must be mentioned by way of contrast. Musical though they are, trained as they generally are both to play and sing well, they yet seldom exercise their gifts in a friendly, social, after-dinner way in their own homes. They become, in fact, so critical or so self-conscious that they prefer to pay to hear music rendered by recognized artists, and so a by no means inconsiderable element of geniality is lost to the social and domestic circle.

The decay of folk-song is the more regrettable, since Holland is rich in old ballads, some of which, handed down just as the people used to sing them centuries ago, are quaint, naïve, and exceedingly pretty. The melodies have all been put to modern harmonies by able composers, and published for the use of the public.

'Het daghet in het oosten,
Het lichtis overal,'

is a little jewel of poetic feeling, and the melody is very sweet. The story, like most of the songs of the past troublous centuries, tells of a battlefield where a young girl goes to seek her lover, but finds him dead. So, after burying him with her own white hands, with his sword and his banner by his side, she vows entrance into a convent. The story is a picture in miniature of the times, and as a piece of literature it ranks high.

Music of some sort finds a place in the homes of the poorest, and the concert, theatre, and opera are as much frequented by the humble of the land as by the wealthy and noble born. The servant class on their 'evening out' frequently go to the French opera, and there is not a boy on the street but is able to whistle some tune from the great modern operas, such as 'Faust,' 'Lohengrin,' and other standard works. And no wonder, for the choristers in the operas walk behind fruit-carts all day long, and often call out their wares in the musical tones learnt while following their more select profession as public singers. Some, of course, cannot read a note of music, and the melodies they have to sing have to be drummed, or rather trumpeted, into their ears. To this end they are placed in a row, and a man with a large trumpet stands before them and plays the tune over and over again until they know it off. In the summer-time whole parties of these Jewish youths--for Jewish they chiefly are--go about the woods on their Sabbath day singing the parts they take in the operas in the winter season, and crowds of people flock to hear them, for their voices are really well worth listening to.

Concerts are naturally not so largely patronized by the people as are operas and theatres. In the larger towns of Holland especially theatricals take a very prominent place in popular relaxation, and even the smaller towns and villages, should they lack theatres and be unable to get good theatrical companies to pay them periodical visits, arrange for dramatic performances by local talent. The popularity of the opera may be judged from the fact that at Amsterdam, The Hague, Rotterdam, Groningen, Arnhem and Utrecht, operas in Dutch and French are regularly given, and occasionally works in German and even Italian are produced. Money is scarce in Holland, the people generally have little to spare, so grand opera-houses, such as are thought necessary in most European cities of any pretension to culture, are impossible, and the singers can seldom count on liberal fees. But most of the best works are heard all the same--which, after all, is the principal thing--and the enjoyment and edification which result are not less genuine because of the simplicity of the properties and the humble character of the entire surroundings.

Yet outdoor music possesses a powerful attraction for the Dutch humbler classes, as for the same classes in most, if not all, countries; and when in the summer-time there is music in the Wood at The Hague on Sunday afternoons or Wednesday evenings, the walks round about the 'Tent' are alive with servants and their lovers, parading decorously arm-in-arm. Happy fathers, too, with their wives and children in Sunday best, perambulate the grounds or rest on the seats amongst the trees and listen to the 'Bosch-muziek.' People of the better class only are members of the 'Witte Societeit,' and sit inside the green paling to listen to the music and drink something meanwhile. For it is strange but true, that a Dutchman never seems thoroughly to enjoy himself unless he has liquid of some sort at hand, and never feels really comfortable without his cigar. Indeed, if smoking were abolished from places of public amusement, most Dutchmen would frequent them no more. In winter concerts are given every other Wednesday at The Hague--and what is true of The Hague applies to Amsterdam and all other towns of any size in the country--and the Public Hall is always packed; but besides these 'Diligentia' concerts there are others given by various Singing Societies, so that there is variety enough to choose from.

In the summer-time there is another attraction besides the Wood for the people of The Hague, for the season at Scheveningen opens on the 1st of June, and there is music at the Kurhaus twice a day--in the afternoon on the terrace of that building, and in the evening in the great hall inside. On Friday night is given what is called a 'Symphony Concert.' To this all the world flocks, for no one who at all respects himself, or esteems the opinion of society, would venture to miss it. Whether every one understands or enjoys the high class music given is another question, which it would be imprudent to press too urgently, but then it belongs to 'education' to go to concerts, and so all enjoy it in their own way. For the townspeople and the working-classes, who have no free time during the week, concerts are given at the large Voorhout on the Sunday evenings in summer, so that on that day even the busiest and poorest may enjoy recreation of a better kind than the public-house offers them, and this effort on their behalf is greatly appreciated by the people, who gladly make use of the opportunities of hearing good and popular music.

The national love of music is assiduously fostered by the Netherlands Musical Union, whose branches are to be found all over the country. Every town has musical and singing societies of some kind--private as well as public--and these make life quite endurable in winter, even in the smallest places. Nor do these 'Zangvereenigingen' derive their membership exclusively from the higher classes, for the humbler folk have organizations of their own. Even the servant girl and the day-labourer will often be found to belong to singing clubs of some kind. Music is also taught at most of the public schools, though it was long before the Government capitulated upon the point, and gave this subject a place side by side with drawing as part of the normal curriculum of the children of the people.

Happily for the musical and dramatic tastes of the nation, both the concert and the theatre are cheap amusements in Holland. As a rule, the dearest seats cost only from 3s. to 5s., while the cheapest, even in first-class houses at Amsterdam, Rotterdam, and The Hague, cost as little as sixpence. The only exceptions are when renowned artists tour the country, and even then the prices seldom exceed £1 for the best places. There is one musical event which makes a more serious call upon the purse, and it is the periodical operatic performance of the Wagner Society in Amsterdam. As a rule, two representations a year are given, and some of the best singers of Europe are invited to sing in one or other of Wagner's operas. The best Dutch orchestra plays, and chosen voices from the Amsterdam Conservatoire take part in the choruses. The scenery is worthy of Bayreuth itself, and such expense and care are bestowed upon these choice performances that, though the house is invariably filled on every occasion, the fees for admission never pay the costs, so that the musical enthusiasts of Amsterdam, Haarlem, and The Hague regularly make up the deficit each year, which sometimes amounts to as much as £1000.

While, however, the Dutch may with truth be classed as a distinctly musical nation, they would seem to have outlived their fame in the domain of musical art. For it should not be forgotten that Holland has in this respect a distinguished history behind it. So long ago as the times of Pope Adrian I. a Dutch school of music was established under the tuition of Italian masters, and it compared favourably with the contemporary schools of other nations. Even in the ninth century Holland produced a composer famous in the annals of music in the person of the monk Huchbald of St. Amand, in Flanders. He it was who changed the notation, and arranged the time by marking the worth of each note, and he is also remembered for his 'Organum,' the oldest form of music written in harmonies. It is often lamented that the compositions of to-day lack the originality which marked the earlier works. The country has none the less produced some noticeable composers during the past century. Of these J. Verhuïst, W.F.G. Nicolal, Daniël de Lange, Richard Hol, and G. Mann are best known, though of no modern composer can it be said that he has any special 'cachet,' for the younger men, fed as they are on the works of other nations, grow into their style of thinking and writing, and follow almost slavishly in their footsteps. It is unfortunate that many rising composers cannot be persuaded to publish their works. The reason is that the cost of publishing in the Netherlands is almost fabulous, and if they do publish them at all it is done in Germany. But even then the circulation is so limited, owing to the smallness of the country, that it does not repay the cost; and so they prefer to plod on unknown, or to cultivate celebrity by giving private concerts of their own works.