8.2 Anecdotes
155
Kapteyn was also a universally recognised and loved figure among the inhabitants of the city of Groningen. The story goes, according to Perdok in the
above-mentioned commemorative book on the occasion of the 350th anniversary of the University of Groningen, [76] that on the return journey from a
meeting in ‘Holland’ he forgot his bag when leaving the train at the Groningen
station. A salesman chased him to his property with the words (in the local
slang): ‘Prefesser, je vergeten joen tazze met monsters’ (Professor, you forgot
your bag with samples). Kapteyn, pleasantly surprised, replied: ‘Thank you,
but there are no samples in it, you know’, to which the helpful travel companion corrected himself: ‘Well, joen tazze with steerns dan’ (well, your bag with
stars then)!
8.3 Character
Henriette Hertzsprung–Kapteyn devoted several pages in her biography [1] to
Kapteyn’s character, habits and daily schedule. I might paraphrase, but in order
to preserve their originality, I prefer to quote directly (in my translation):
The Groningers would see Kapteyn in the street around 9 o’clock in the morning,
on his way to his laboratory, everyone knew him with his characteristic boyish
little shuffling steps, which he called the ‘heather walk’, and which he attributed
to his many walks as a youth through the heather. From nine to twelve no one
was allowed to disturb him and in those three daily hours with concentrated
work at his writing desk, and his mind would take a great flight as the major
problems progressed. He had great concentration. Nothing could distract him.
At home he worked best in the living room, where he felt the warm coziness as
a stimulus. ‘Concentration I did learn in my youth’, he said laughing. ‘Once,
when the twittering of birds hindered my work and I closed the window, my
mother became so angry with my foolish sensitivity that she slapped me around
the ears and threw open the window again. That slap has been more useful to me
than many an educational word.’ Even working in the midst of the many boys
had taught him to close off the outside world when necessary. The downside of
his great concentration was his real professorial absent-mindedness. Fortunately,
however, there were always loving persons to help him in this weakness. ‘Professor,
thou hast not yet put on thy hat’, the clerks warned many times, when he left the
laboratory, or ‘Thy trouser leg is wrapped upward’. Or they phoned to remind
him there was a thesis defense ceremony where they awaited him. The old maid,
who had a great memory, was invaluable in remembering when exams and other
important facts of the day were to take place. It happened that he once traveled to
America and noticed in Rotterdam that he had forgotten his wallet with money.
He could just return to Groningen, fetch it and reach the boat on time. Another
155
Kapteyn was also a universally recognised and loved figure among the inhabitants of the city of Groningen. The story goes, according to Perdok in the
above-mentioned commemorative book on the occasion of the 350th anniversary of the University of Groningen, [76] that on the return journey from a
meeting in ‘Holland’ he forgot his bag when leaving the train at the Groningen
station. A salesman chased him to his property with the words (in the local
slang): ‘Prefesser, je vergeten joen tazze met monsters’ (Professor, you forgot
your bag with samples). Kapteyn, pleasantly surprised, replied: ‘Thank you,
but there are no samples in it, you know’, to which the helpful travel companion corrected himself: ‘Well, joen tazze with steerns dan’ (well, your bag with
stars then)!
8.3 Character
Henriette Hertzsprung–Kapteyn devoted several pages in her biography [1] to
Kapteyn’s character, habits and daily schedule. I might paraphrase, but in order
to preserve their originality, I prefer to quote directly (in my translation):
The Groningers would see Kapteyn in the street around 9 o’clock in the morning,
on his way to his laboratory, everyone knew him with his characteristic boyish
little shuffling steps, which he called the ‘heather walk’, and which he attributed
to his many walks as a youth through the heather. From nine to twelve no one
was allowed to disturb him and in those three daily hours with concentrated
work at his writing desk, and his mind would take a great flight as the major
problems progressed. He had great concentration. Nothing could distract him.
At home he worked best in the living room, where he felt the warm coziness as
a stimulus. ‘Concentration I did learn in my youth’, he said laughing. ‘Once,
when the twittering of birds hindered my work and I closed the window, my
mother became so angry with my foolish sensitivity that she slapped me around
the ears and threw open the window again. That slap has been more useful to me
than many an educational word.’ Even working in the midst of the many boys
had taught him to close off the outside world when necessary. The downside of
his great concentration was his real professorial absent-mindedness. Fortunately,
however, there were always loving persons to help him in this weakness. ‘Professor,
thou hast not yet put on thy hat’, the clerks warned many times, when he left the
laboratory, or ‘Thy trouser leg is wrapped upward’. Or they phoned to remind
him there was a thesis defense ceremony where they awaited him. The old maid,
who had a great memory, was invaluable in remembering when exams and other
important facts of the day were to take place. It happened that he once traveled to
America and noticed in Rotterdam that he had forgotten his wallet with money.
He could just return to Groningen, fetch it and reach the boat on time. Another