Due West Part 13

There was an unmistakable aspect of business prosperity about the streets of the city. Everybody seemed active and engaged in some purpose. There were few loungers, and, we must make a note of it, no beggars. It was observable that the large Norman horses used in the working teams were sleek and fat, splendid creatures; such as Rosa Bonheur represents in her famous picture of the Horse Fair. What a contrast these n.o.ble, well-kept animals presented to the poor, half-starved creatures to be met with in the East, and, indeed, in only too many of the European cities,--Rome, Florence, Antwerp, and Madrid.

We are now approaching such familiar ground that the reader will hardly expect more of us than to specify the closing route of our long journey.

From Bordeaux to Paris is about four hundred miles. As we left the former city the road pa.s.sed through miles upon miles of thriving vineyards, those nearest to the city producing the brands of claret best known in the American market. The route generally all the way to Paris was through a charming and highly cultivated country, vastly different from northern and central Spain. The well-prepared fields were green with the spring grains and varied crops, showing high cultivation. Sheep in large flocks, tended by shepherdesses with tall white Norman caps, and picturesque, high-colored dresses, enlivened the landscape. These industrious women were knitting or spinning in the field. Others were driving oxen, while men held the plow. Gangs of men and women together were working in long rows, preparing the ground for seed or planting; and all seemed cheerful, decent, and happy. The small railroad stations recalled those of India between Tuticorin and Madras, where the surroundings were beautified by fragrant flower-gardens,--their bland, odorous breath acting like a charm upon the senses, amid the noise and bustle of arrival and departure. Now and again, as we progressed, the pointed architecture of some picturesque chateau would present itself among the cl.u.s.tering trees with its bright, verdant lawns and neat outlying dependencies; and so we sped on, until, in the early evening, we glided into the station at Paris.

There was a clear sky, a young moon, and a full display of the starry hosts, on the night of our arrival in this the gayest capital of the world. Four hundred miles of unbroken travel that day, so far from satiating, only served to whet the appet.i.te for observation. Ten years had pa.s.sed since the writer had trod those familiar boulevards; and now hastening to the Place de la Madeleine we renewed acquaintance with the n.o.ble church which ornaments the square, the purest and grandest specimen of architecture, of its cla.s.s, extant. Thence pa.s.sing a few steps onward, the brilliantly-lighted Place de la Concorde was reached, that spot so emblazoned in blood upon the pages of history. How the music of the fountains mingled with the hum of the noisy throng that filled the streets! What a.s.sociations crowded upon the mind as we stood there at the base of the grand old obelisk of Luxor, looming up from the centre of the grounds. In front was the long, broad, flashing roadway of the Champs Elysees, one blaze of light and busy life; for Paris does not awake until after dark. Far away the Arc de Triomphe is just discerned where commences the Bois de Boulogne. On the left, across the Seine, is outlined against the sky the twin towers of St. Clotilde, with the glittering dome of the Invalides; and to the eastward are seen the dual towers of Notre Dame. The brain is stimulated as by wine, till one grows dizzy. Proceeding through the Rue Rivoli we turn towards our hotel by the Place Vendome, looking once more upon that vast and beautiful monument, the finest modern column in existence, and then to bed--not to sleep, but to revel in the intoxication of that bitter-sweet--memory!

After a few weeks pa.s.sed in Paris, the journey homeward was renewed by way of Antwerp, a city which owes its attraction almost solely to the fact that here are to be seen so many masterpieces of painting. The great influence of Rubens can hardly be appreciated without a visit to the Flemish capital, where he lived and died, and where his ashes rest in the Church of St. Jacques. This is considered the finest church in Antwerp, remarkable for the number and richness of its private chapels.

Here are the burial-places of the n.o.ble and wealthy families of the past, and among them that of the Rubens family, which is situated just back of the high altar. Above the tomb is a large painting by this famous master, intended to represent a Holy Family, and the picture is in a degree typical of the idea. But its object is also well understood as being to perpetuate a series of likenesses of the Rubens family; namely, of himself, his two wives, his daughter, his father, and grandfather. The painting is incongruous, and in bad taste, being quite open also to criticism in its drawing and grouping. The whole production appears like a forced and uncongenial effort. Vand.y.k.e and Teniers were also natives of this city, where their best works still remain, and where the State has erected fitting monuments to their memory. Jordeans, the younger Teniers, and Denis Calvart, the master of Guido Reni, were natives here.

The famous cathedral, more picturesque and remarkable for its exterior than interior, is of the pointed style, and of about a century in age.

Did it not contain Rubens' world-renowned pictures, the Descent from the Cross, the Elevation of the Cross, and the a.s.sumption, few people would care to visit it. A gorgeous church ceremony was in progress when we first entered the church: some one of the three hundred and sixty-five saints receiving an annual recognition on the occasion of his birthday. A score of priests were marching about the body of the church at the head of a long procession of boys, with silk banners and burning candles, chanting all the while to an organ accompaniment. On the borders of this procession the people knelt and seemed duly impressed.

The patter of wooden shoes upon the streets is almost deafening to strangers, men, women, and children adding to the din. Probably it is found to be cheaper to take a block of wood and hew out a pair of shoes from it, fit to wear, than to adopt a more civilized mode of shoeing the people; but these heavy clogs give to the inhabitants an awkward gait.

In all of the older portions of the town, the houses have a queer way of standing with their gable ends to the street, just as they are addicted to doing at Amsterdam and Hamburg, showing it to be a Dutch proclivity.

Dogs are universally used here for light vehicles in place of donkeys,--one or more being attached to each vehicle adapted to the transportation of milk or bread and other light articles. These are attended by boys or women. Beggars there are none, to the credit of the city be it said; nor is one importuned by hackmen or other public servants; all are ready to serve you, but none to annoy you. Antwerp has some fine broad squares, avenues, public gardens, and n.o.ble trees.

Belgium is a nation of blondes, in strong contrast with its near neighbor, France, where the brunettes reign supreme. It is singular that there should be such a marked difference in communities, differences as definite as geographical boundaries, and seemingly governed by rules quite as arbitrary. Why should a people's hair, eyes, and complexion be dark or light, simply because an imaginary line divides them territorially? No one for a moment mistakes a German for a Frenchman, an Antwerp lady for a Parisian. The very animals seem to partake of these local characteristics, while the manners and customs are equally individualized. The French women of all cla.s.ses put on their attire with a dainty grace that contrasts strongly with the careless, though cleanly costume of their sisters over the border. aesthetic taste, indeed, would seem almost out of place displayed upon the square, solidly-built women of Flanders. Is it imagination, or can one really trace somewhat of the same idea in Flora's kingdom? The Dutch roses, tulips, and other flowers, like the naval architecture of the Low Countries, have a certain breadth of beam and bluntness of prow that makes them differ from the same fragrant family of France. Has any learned essayist ever attempted to draw philosophical deductions from these aspects of the vegetable world, as showing local kinship to humanity?

Embarking from Antwerp, July 14th, on board the Steamship Waesland, of the Red Star Line, New York was reached after a voyage of twelve days, July 24th, and Boston by the Sh.o.r.e Line the same evening, coming in at the opposite side of the city whence we started a little more than ten months previous; having thus, in a journey of about forty thousand miles, completed a circuit of the globe.