ANTWERP AND RUBENS.

“Where shall we go first, Paul?” asked Dr. Winstock, when they landed upon the quay.

“I don’t know, sir; I think I shall be interested wherever we go.  This is a big city-isn’t it?”

“Its population is hardly more than half of what it was in the days of its greatest prosperity.  In the days of Charles V. it is said that twenty-five hundred vessels were frequently seen at one time in the river.  It had two hundred thousand inhabitants, and was then the richest and most thriving commercial city in Europe.  You perceive that this long line of quays affords plenty of wharf room.  Indeed the name of the city is said to be derived from a Flemish phrase, ‘aen’t werf,’ which means on the wharf, or on the quay.”

“Mr. Motley tells another story about its name.  He says the people claim that the city is very old, and that a giant by the name of Antigonus, established himself on the river at this place, and set up a kind of custom-house.  He required half the merchandise of those who went up the river.  He used to cut off the right hands of those who attempted to smuggle, and throw them into the river.  In this way Hand werpen, or hand throwing, came to be the name of the place,” said the young commander.

“I suppose that story is as true now as it ever was.  But where shall we go?” asked the doctor.

“I want to get a little nearer to that Cathedral,” replied Paul.

“That is really the most noted thing in Antwerp, and we will walk up there; and I think we shall be able to see the pictures on the church, which are required to produce an income.  The Cathedral used to be open till one o’clock, free to the public, but the curtains were carefully drawn over these great works of art; after this hour visitors were admitted upon the payment of one franc, and the pictures were exhibited.  Doubtless the same regulation is in force now.”

A walk of a few moments brought them to the Place Verte, a little park enclosed, with a colossal statue of Rubens in the centre.

“Everything in Antwerp is Rubens,” said the doctor.  “The people believe in him still, and almost worship his memory.”

“Why should they?  He was only a great painter-was he?” added Paul.

“He was more than that:  he was quite distinguished as a statesman and a diplomatist.  He was ambassador to England, Holland, and other countries.  His celebrity as an artist, and his influence with the crowned heads of several nations, caused him to be regarded with deep interest by the people.  He lived in a splendid mansion, for the immense income which he derived from his pencil enabled him to support an elegant establishment.  He had a great number of pupils, and at one period in his career they painted no inconsiderable part of his pictures.  He had orders from all the crowned heads of Europe, and in many of his works he could only make the designs and give the finishing touches to them.  He was very industrious, and painted rapidly, as he must have done to produce so many pictures.”

“He humbugged his customers then-didn’t he?”

“His assistants did only the heavy work, while Rubens furnished the design, and gave the work its finishing touches.  The celebrated sculptors do not perform all the drudgery of chiselling out a statue.  Wherever you go in Antwerp, you will hear of Rubens.  You will find his works in all the galleries, you will visit his house in the Rue Rubens, his pictures will be shown to you in every church, and you will see his tomb in St. Jacques.”

“They have Rubens on the brain, as we should say at home,” laughed Paul.

“Yes, and they have it badly.  From this point you have a good view of the Cathedral,” added the doctor, as they paused near the statue of Rubens, where they could see the building over the tops of the trees.

“The steeple is very handsome.  It is of the most beautiful and delicate workmanship you will see.”

“I should think it would blow down.”

“It is banded together with a framework of iron, and the stones are held together with copper bolts.”

“How high is it?” asked Paul, as he gazed up at the lofty spire.

“There you have me, Paul!  I don’t know.  In Murray’s Guide-Book it is set down at four hundred and three feet.  The man up in the tower there says it is four hundred and sixty-six.  Other authorities put it at less than four hundred.  My guide assured me it was one hundred and forty-seven French metres in height; but this, reduced to English measure, would give four hundred and eighty-three feet.  My own idea is, that Murray is right,” replied Dr. Winstock, as they walked over to the church.

“What’s this?” asked Paul, pointing to a beautiful iron canopy in Gothic style, near the foot of the church tower.

“That’s a draw-well.  It is the handiwork of Quentin Matsys.”

“I don’t know him.”

“He was a blacksmith until he was twenty years old, when he fell in love with the fair daughter of a painter.  The story goes that the father would not permit his daughter to marry any man that was not an artist, and the blacksmith abandoned his anvil for the easel.  He had a genius for art, and soon painted better than his masters.  He won his bride, and achieved a great reputation in his new art.  The picture of The Misers, which you saw at Windsor Castle, was executed by him.”

They bought a couple of tickets and were admitted to the church.  The interior was grand and imposing; but the chief attraction was the pictures, which were now unveiled, and a small audience was present examining them.  Several artists were making copies of them.  In the south transept hangs Reubens’s masterpiece, The Descent from the Cross.

Paul did not pretend to be a connoisseur in paintings, and could neither understand nor appreciate the fine writing he read about them in books, or the “hifalutin” which affected men bestowed upon them; but in the presence of the grand old painting, he was awed and silenced.  It produced a deep impression upon his mind and heart, and for the first time in his life he realized the sublime in art.  The figure of The Dead Christ seemed to be real, so painfully natural were the hanging head of the Savior, and the relaxed muscles of the body.  The young student gazed long and earnestly at the picture, studying it as a whole and in detail.

It is said that Rubens paid this picture as the price of the land on which he erected his house in Antwerp.  In the north transept of the Cathedral hangs its companion piece, The Elevation of the Cross; but its reputation is far inferior to his masterpiece, grand as it is.

Paul walked about the church, and examined other pictures and works of art; and then, after paying the keeper of the tower a franc, they commenced the long ascent to the spire and chimes.

“These churches and these pictures are certainly very fine,” said Paul, as they stopped at a window to rest.  “We don’t have them in our country.  There isn’t a church there that will compare with any of these cathedrals, to say nothing of the celebrated pictures, such as we have just seen.”

“That’s very true; and I am thankful that our people make a better use of their money.  Here in Belgium, as in most countries of Europe, poverty is the curse of the people.  They do not receive the reward of their labor.  The government and the church take the lion’s share of their earnings, and thus keep them down.  This Cathedral was commenced in 1352, and finished in 1411, though another spire was to have been built.  Nearly sixty years were employed in its erection, and probably it cost millions of dollars.  Of course the people had to pay for it.  The greater portion of the expense of it lies dormant here, it being merely an ornamental structure.  It gratifies people’s tastes, it is true; but God could be acceptably worshipped in a less costly edifice.  If the capital locked up in this church had been invested in schools, colleges, and other educational institutions, it would be a blessing to the country.  What is paid in Europe to build these grand structures for worship, and to support the trappings of royalty, is in our own country appropriated to public schools; and the nation reaps the benefit of them every year of its existence.”

“That’s so,” replied Paul, emphatically; “and when any foreigner says anything to me again about our want of costly cathedrals, I shall call his attention to our schools.”

“That’s right; you are an American to the core,” laughed the doctor.

“But I don’t see any reason why we should not have as great painters in the United States as in Europe,” added Paul.

“I do see the reason.  Probably we have just as much talent for art in our nation, but the people find that it doesn’t pay so well as developing the resources of a new country.  When it is possible in America for a man to win the wealth and distinction which Rubens won, we shall be as successful in art as Europe has been; for Washington Allston, Benjamin West, and others have demonstrated the capacity of our people in this direction.  The encouragement which artists receive makes the men.  There are not many persons in our country who are willing to pay ten, fifty, or a hundred thousand dollars for a picture.  So much money in a painting is dead capital among an energetic people who need all they can get to carry on agricultural, commercial, and manufacturing enterprises.”

“Of course people will follow that calling which pays best, either in money or in reputation.”

“Certainly, and the number of Dutch and Flemish artists assures us that painting has been a cherished art in the Low Countries.  Vandyck was another celebrated painter of this country.  He was born in Antwerp, and was a pupil of Rubens.  There is a story that The Descent from the Cross was thrown down by the carelessness of a student, and badly injured by the fall.  Vandyck, who was then a pupil of the great Flemish master, undertook to repair the mischief with his brush, and did it so well that Rubens declared the work was superior to his own.  This story is current in the guide-books, and in the mouths of the commissionaires, who point out the places on the face of the Virgin and on the arm of one of the Marys where the pupil touched it up.  But there is no truth in it, since the picture was hung up in the Cathedral before Vandyck entered the studio of Rubens.”

“I suppose these people like to tell good stories, whether true or not.”

“Yes; and you will find a man up in this steeple who believes that his spire is the tallest in the world,” added Dr. Winstock.

They continued on their long ascent till they reached the region of the bells, where they found the attendant who glories in magnifying the wonders of the chimes and the spire.  He had a small furnished apartment, which the visitors were invited to enter, and where he dispensed refreshments, of which no total abstinence man could partake.  The doctor, knowing what the man had to say, skilfully turned his attention away from his favorite topic, until they were sufficiently refreshed-not by the eau de vie and noyau, but by the rest-to explore the bell towers.

The bells composing the chime were fixed in the lofts, which were filled with wires, cranks, and other machinery, used in operating them.  In one place there was a bank of keys like those of an organ, where a person could play any tune he pleased upon the bells.  The keeper had a history to relate of each bell, many of which were contributed by kings, princes, and lords, and bore their names.  In another tower there was an immense bell, at the baptism of which-for church bells are duly consecrated in Catholic countries-the Emperor Charles V. stood as godfather.  It requires sixteen men to ring it; but its peals rouse the Antwerpers only on great occasions, such as a visit of the king.

Dr. Winstock and Paul waited among the chimes till they had played the hourly tune, and then continued their progress to the heights above.  The custodian of the steeple said there were six hundred and sixteen steps from the bottom to the top, and a person does not care to make the journey more than once in his lifetime.  The winding stairs passed close to the Gothic openings of the tower, and they had an opportunity closely to observe the delicate workmanship of the structure, which Charles V. said should be kept in a glass case, and Napoleon compared to Mechlin lace.

At last, out of breath, they reached the highest point of the spire, and looked far down upon the lofty roof of the church.  The buildings of the city looked like card houses, and a company of Belgian soldiers, marching in the streets, appeared like the pygmies who inhabited them.  In the distance could be seen the towers of Ghent, Brussels, Mechlin, and Flushing, the wandering Scheldt, and the low country for a vast distance.  The magnificent view, and the information it afforded, amply repaid them for the toil of ascending, and Paul made the Cathedral the subject of an entire letter to Miss Grace Arbuckle.

It was easier to go down than to come up, and when they had passed out into the Place Verte, the doctor declared that he must lunch before he walked any farther.  The Hotel de l’Europe faced the Park, and Paul was desirous of seeing the interior of it.  They entered through an archway, there being no doors on the street.  There was a spacious area, or court-yard, through which alone the house could be reached.  In other respects the establishment was similar to those in the United States.

On the continent, as in England, none but working people take breakfast much before nine o’clock, and the hour varies from this time till noon.  Of late years the practice in American hotels corresponds with that of European ones.  In the dining-room of the Hotel de l’Europe there are many small tables, and one or two long ones, the latter being used at table d’hote, which is served at five o’clock.  A hotel bill is added, to give the reader an idea of the prices:-

Place Verte.

“One The Complet” consists of simply tea and bread and butter, and as a franc is about twenty cents, its price is thirty cents.  A centime is the hundredth of a franc, and fifty centimes is ten cents.  If the guest adds a beefsteak and potatoes, or any other dish, to his meal, it just doubles the cost.  The “bougie” is a candle, which is charged all over Europe, at from a quarter of a franc up to a franc.  The traveller also pays for his soap, or provides it himself.  When an “old stager” pays a franc for a candle, or a piece of soap, he rolls the part unused up in a paper and puts it into his trunk; and, if at his next stopping-place, he finds a candle in his room, he orders the waiter to remove it, and will not submit to be charged for it.

Table d’hote is a more formal meal, and in some large hotels much parade is made over it.  The bill of fare is usually very meagre compared with that of the Fifth Avenue Hotel in New York, and every dish in the programme is presented to the guest.  The charge for this meal, at first-class houses outside of Paris, is usually four francs, or eighty cents.

Dr. Winstock and Paul took a seat in the Salle a manger.  The student was principally anxious to know what they had to eat, and in what manner they served it, for he was of an inquiring mind, and fond of making comparisons.  The most common lunch consists of cold chicken and salad, the latter being simply lettuce prepared with oil and vinegar.  Paul was disappointed, for the lunch differed hardly a shade from the same thing at home.  Even the gentlemanly Belgian waiter, dressed in seemly black, spoke good English, and the “demi-poulet” was wasted upon him.

“Where shall we go now, Paul?” asked the doctor, as they left the dining-room.

“I leave that to you, sir.  You seem to be quite at home here,” replied Paul.

“We will take a carriage, and we can do up the city in a few hours.”

A one-horse barouche was called, and a commissionaire-a kind of guide or interpreter, who assists strangers in doing their business, or in seeing the sights of the city-presented himself to be employed; but Dr. Winstock, who was familiar with the place, declined his services.

“What was that man?” asked Paul, as the carriage drove off to the Rue des Soeurs Noires, where the Dominican Church of St. Paul is located.

“He is a commissionaire, interpreter, or valet de place.  Many travellers regard such men as swindlers; but for my own part I have found them very useful.  When I first visited Antwerp I employed one.  I found him intelligent and gentlemanly, and, so far as I could judge, not disposed to swindle me himself or to let others do so.  I paid him five francs a day, and I am sure he saved me more money than I paid him, besides taking me in the easiest and most convenient way to the various points in the city.”

“I should think such men would be very necessary, especially to those who cannot speak the language.”

“In Amsterdam and Rotterdam I should have been on my beam-ends without them.  I never could imagine where they obtained their bad name, unless it was from Englishmen, who are generally afraid of being cheated, and take the alarm before there is any real danger.”

The driver stopped before the Church of St. Paul, and the passengers alighted.  There was nothing worthy of note in the church; but outside of it, in a kind of garden, one of the most singular and remarkable exhibitions is open to the visitor.  It is called “Calvary,” and is a representation of the “several stages,” as they are termed, in the life of Christ.  An artificial mound is raised on the side next to the church edifice, which is covered with a kind of rock-work, in imitation of Mount Calvary.  In various parts of the area are placed the statues of saints, angels, patriarchs, and prophets.

On the summit of the mound is represented the crucifixion, with a figure of the Savior on the cross.  At the foot of it is the sepulchre, which is claimed to be a perfect copy of the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem, though travellers who have seen it say it bears no resemblance whatever to the original.  In the tomb, on a kind of shelf, rests the crucified Christ, represented by a figure clothed in silk and muslin!

Near the tomb an ideal of Purgatory is exhibited, consisting of wood carvings.  The making-up of the scene appears to be a kind of cage, like those one sees in a menagerie, with bars in front of it to prevent the escape of the unhappy mortals temporarily confined there.  Within the den are carved and painted several figures of men, in the midst of darting, leaping flames, upon whose faces there is an expression of intense anguish.  Doubtless the intention of those who conceived this astounding exhibition was to impress upon the mind of the spectator the sufferings of the unrepentant wicked.  It is hardly possible that this effect could ever have been produced upon the minds of sensible men.  The spectacle is not only in exceedingly bad taste, but it is positively repulsive, not to say sacrilegious.

Such was the opinion of Paul Kendall, who could hardly conceal his disgust; and ten minutes in the place exhausted his patience.  He was silent, so deep was his feeling of dissatisfaction, until he was again seated in the voiture.  The next objects of interest were the docks and basins, which were reached after a short drive from St. Paul’s.  They merely passed along the quay, making no stop, as the works could be seen from the carriage.

“That is the house of the Hanseatic League,” said the doctor, pointing to a large ancient building.

“What is the Hanseatic League?” asked Paul, who had never even heard of it.

“It was a commercial alliance between some of the cities of Germany for the protection and development of their trade.  It had its origin in the thirteenth century, for the purpose of preventing piracy and shipwreck, and to encourage commerce, and, indeed, all branches of industry.  It established great warehouses or factories in different parts of Europe, and became an exceedingly powerful association, so much so that it dictated the policy of sovereigns on their thrones, and even declared and carried on war with several of the powers of Europe.  In the fourteenth century, the League defeated the King of Norway and Sweden.  It unseated the King of Sweden, and gave his crown to another, and having declared war against Denmark, sent a fleet of two hundred and fifty ships, and thousands of troops to carry it on.  In fact, the association prepared for war with England, and Edward IV. made important concessions to avoid it.  Of course the crowned heads were jealous of its power and influence, and it was eventually broken up; but it laid the foundation of the commercial policy of the nations.  The League died out in 1630; but Hamburg, Lubec, and Bremen formed a new one, under the name of the Hanse Towns; and Frankfort-on-the-Main afterwards joined them.”

“I have heard of the Hanse Towns,” added Paul; “but I never knew what the term meant before.”

“The docks and basins here are mainly the work of Napoleon.  The great conqueror intended to make Antwerp the first seaport of the north.  The mouth of the Thames is less than a hundred miles from the mouth of the Scheldt, and he knew that, with a naval station equal to any in the possession of England, he could, in time of war, cripple or destroy the commerce of his great rival.  He expended ten millions of dollars on these docks, basins, and fortifications.  The English were alarmed, and in 1809 sent the Walcheren expedition, which obtained a foothold on that island, but were defeated by disease and death, for seven thousand British soldiers perished by marsh fever.  By the peace of Paris in 1814, after the battle of Waterloo, it was stipulated that the dock-yards should be destroyed, for they were a standing threat to the maritime powers; but these basins were preserved for commercial purposes.  The largest one will accommodate thirty-four ships of the line.”

The travellers continued on their way through some of the principal streets till they arrived at the Church of St. Jacques, which is richer in its ornaments than the Cathedral, containing exquisitely wrought marbles, carved wood, painted glass.  This magnificent church contains the burial vaults of the noble families of the city, and among them that of Rubens, which is marked by a white marble tablet with a long inscription upon it, embedded in the pavement of his private chapel.  The Holy Family, which forms the altar-piece of the church, was painted by the great master.  In 1793, when the mob, incited by the furious spirit of the French Revolution, broke into the church, pillaging altars and tombs alike, that of Rubens was spared from desecration by the universal respect for his memory, though not another tomb in St. Jacques escaped their impious touch.

The house of Rubens, situated in a street of the same name, was visited; an outside view of the Bourse, or Exchange, the Hotel de Ville, or Town Hall, and of other public buildings, was obtained.  The Citadel, built under the direction of the cruel Duke of Alva, to overawe the rebellious Antwerpers, was an object of interest.  After the expulsion of the Spaniards in 1577, the people, including those of high and low degree, men, women, and children, assisted in its demolition; but it was speedily rebuilt, and has played an important part in subsequent sieges and insurrections.  The city is surrounded by a continuous line of fortifications and ditches, extending from a point on the river below the city to a point above it; and outside of this line there are a number of detached forts to keep a hostile force from approaching near enough to the city to shell it.

When the carriage reached the Quai Vandyck, most of the students had returned, and the boats were in waiting.  They chattered like magpies about the wonders they had seen.  When Captain Kendall went on board, the mail-bag was handed to him, and the boys were eager to obtain their letters from home and elsewhere.

“A letter for you, Mr. Hamblin,” said the captain, as he handed the professor a formidable envelope, postmarked “Anvers.”

The learned gentleman seemed to be astonished, and bore the missive to his state-room.