THREE CHEERS FOR THE KING OF BELGIUM.
"I say, Grossbeck, you and I are two bigger fools than Napoleon was when
he went to Russia," said Lynch, as they reached the street again.
"That's so. 'There was a sound of revelry by night, and Belgium's
capital'--got considerably mixed," replied Grossbeck, whose head was not
quite so full as his companion's.
"What shall we do, my boy?" stammered Lynch. "That wine was nothing
short of camphene. We shall be seen by the captain, and we shall both be
sent to keep company with poor McDougal. We've lost our mess on the
Josephine."
"Stiffen up, Lynch. Don't give way to it. What sort of a sailor are you,
that can't bear two thimblefuls of wine?"
"That wine was camphene, I tell you. It feels just like a whole bunch of
friction matches touched off at once in my stomach--that's so. I'm a
poor boy and no mistake, Grossbeck."
Lynch suddenly stopped, and grasped his companion by the arm.
"What's the matter," demanded Grossbeck.
"It's no use for me to drink wine. The _eau de vie_ carries too many
guns for me. I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to get out of
this scrape."
"So am I; but come along, or we shall be late."
"I'm going to join the temperance society, and never drink any more
wine--not another drop of _eau de vie_ for me."
Lynch evidently felt that he had got into trouble for nothing; that the
satisfaction of drinking the firewater was very unsatisfactory in the
end. He had sense enough left to see that disgrace and degradation
awaited him, and he dreaded the prompt action of Captain Kendall, as
exhibited in the case of McDougal. While still suffering from the
effects of the tipple, he resolved to drink no more; but pledges made in
the heat of intoxication are not the most hopeful ones.
The boosy youngsters worried along the street; but instead of turning to
the right, into the Rue de la Monnaie, they went straight ahead, and
were soon lost in a maze of narrow streets. They were conscious that
they had gone astray, and looked in vain for the square in front of the
Theatre Royal, which they had marked as an objective point. At last they
came across a solitary policeman, who paused on his walk to observe
their unsteady tramp.
"Hotel Royal?" said Grossbeck, addressing the officer.
"_Oui_," replied the man, pointing in the direction from which they had
come, and leading the way himself.
In a few moments they reached the square they had missed, and Grossbeck
recognized the flaming signs of a large clothing store, on the corner
of the street in which the hotel was located.
"Thank you. I am very much obliged to you," said he to the policeman, as
he pointed to the street.
"_Oui_," replied the officer, solemnly, though the grateful
acknowledgments of the juvenile tippler were lost upon him, except so
far as he could interpret them by the motions of the speaker.
"I feel meaner than Napoleon did after the battle of Waterloo," groaned
Lynch.
"Stiffen up, now. Here's the hotel," added Grossbeck.
"Well, what shall we do? I can't walk straight, and my head spins round
like a top," pleaded Lynch.
"Dry up. Starch your back-bone. Here comes a lot of the fellows."
"Who are they?" asked Lynch, trying to stiffen his back, and get the
bearings of his head.
The party approaching proved to be half a dozen of "our fellows," who
stopped, and immediately discovered the condition of the two hopefuls.
"I say, McKeon, can't you help us out?" said Grossbeck.
"Ay, ay; certainly we can," replied "our fellows," in concert, as they
gathered closely around the inebriates, and, thus encircling them,
marched into the hotel.
"Keep still, Lynch; don't say a word," whispered Grossbeck, as they
entered the hall, effectually concealed from the observation of the
officers by their companions.
Mr. Fluxion stood at the door, and checked off the names of the party as
they entered, on the list he held, so as to be sure that all had come
in. It was not an easy thing for Lynch to ascend three flights of
stairs; but his companions supported him, and contrived to screen him
from the officers, till they reached the room where they were to sleep.
The door was closed and fastened, and Grossbeck gratefully acknowledged
the kindness of his friends in getting them out of the scrape.
"What did you drink?" asked McKeon.
"Wine," answered the tippler.
"What kind of wine?"
"I don't know--_eau de vie_."
"_Eau de vie!_" exclaimed Blount, whose knowledge of French was above
the average of that of "our fellows."
"That's what we called for," added Grossbeck.
"And it was as strong as camphene," said Lynch, as he tumbled into bed.
"It was brandy!" laughed Blount.
The boys all laughed at the blunder, and Lynch repeated his pledge not
to drink any strong liquors, wine, or beer again. Grossbeck defended his
conduct by saying that he had heard a great deal about the light wines
of Europe, which people drank like water, and he did not suppose a
couple of thimblefuls of it would hurt them.
"Call for _vin rouge_ next time," laughed Blount; "that means red wine,
or claret. It isn't much stronger than water."
"No, sir!" ejaculated Lynch, springing up in bed, though with much
difficulty; "I shall not call for red wine, or anything of the sort.
From this time, henceforth and forevermore, I'm a temperance man. I
won't drink anything but water, and only a little of that. I feel
cheaper than Napoleon when he landed on the Island of St. Helena."
The party turned in, and in a short time all of them, tired out by the
fatigues of the day, were fast asleep. Mr. Fluxion, before half past
eleven, had reported all the students in the house. At six o'clock in
the morning all hands were turned out, and several squads of them were
exploring the city on their own account. But it was not till after
breakfast that a systematic excursion was organized. A number of
omnibuses and one-horse barouches, or _voitures_, had been engaged by
Mr. Fluxion, and, seated in these, the ship's company proceeded to the
Grande Place, which is a large square, with the Hotel de Ville on one
side, and the old Palace, or Broodhuis, on the other side.
The Hotel de Ville is one of the most splendid municipal palaces in the
Low Countries, where these structures are always magnificent specimens
of architecture. The spire, of open work, in Gothic style, is three
hundred and sixty-four feet high. The vane, which is a gilded copper
figure of St. Michael, is seventeen feet high. The building was erected
in the fifteenth century.
By the attention of the governor of Antwerp, several officials were in
readiness to escort the visitors through the city; and at their beck the
doors of public buildings and churches, and the gates of palaces and
gardens, were thrown open. The party entered the Hotel de Ville, and in
one of its large rooms an opportunity was afforded for Mr. Mapps to
expatiate a little on the city of Brussels.
"Young gentlemen, what is the French name of this city?" asked the
professor, as he took the stand occupied by the chief magistrate of the
city.
"Bruxelles," responded many of the boys; for they had seen it often
enough upon signs and in newspapers to know it.
"Unlike many of the cities of Belgium which we have before visited,
Brussels is a growing place. Its population has doubled in twenty years,
and now numbers about three hundred thousand. It is situated on both
sides of the little River Senne, one hundred and fifty miles from
Paris,--which it imitates and resembles in some degree,--and
twenty-seven miles from Antwerp. It is built partly on a hill; and the
city consists of two portions, called the upper and the lower town, the
latter being the older part, and containing all the objects of historic
interest. In the upper town are the Park, the king's palace, and the
public offices. The streets are irregular, narrow, and crooked; but the
city is surrounded by a broad highway, having different names in
different parts, as the _Boulevard de Waterloo_, the _Boulevard de
Flandre_, and the _Boulevard d'Anvers_.
"The oldest part of the city is in the vicinity of this square--the
_Grande Place_, in which the Counts Egmont and Horn were beheaded by the
Duke of Alva. You saw their statues in the square. In this city, in an
old palace burned in 1733, Charles V. abdicated in favor of his son
Philip II. Here, also, was drawn up that celebrated document called the
Request. It was a petition to Margaret of Parma, in favor of the
Protestants of the Low Countries, of which you read in Motley. It was
presented to her in the Hotel de Cuylembourg, where a prison now stands.
She was somewhat alarmed at the appearance of the petitioners; and one
of her courtiers told her, in a whisper, not to be annoyed by the
'_gueux_,' or beggars. The leader of the confederates, hearing of this,
regarded the epithet bestowed upon those who were defending the
liberties of their country as an honorable appellation, and the
petitioners adopted it as their war-cry. In the evening, some of them
appeared in front of the palace with beggars' wallets on their backs,
and porringers in their hands, and drank as a toast, 'Success to the
_Gueux_!' This trivial incident proved to be one of the leading events
of the revolution which deprived Spain of the Low Countries; for it
kindled the enthusiasm of the people, and urged them on in the
redemption of their country. In Motley you will find a full history of
the 'Beggars.' Alva was so incensed at the turn of this affair, that he
levelled to the ground the building in which the confederates met.
"Brussels has long been celebrated for its manufactures of lace and
carpets; but while it still retains its prestige in the former, it has
been outdone in the latter. The finest and most valuable lace is made
here and in some of the neighboring cities, and is literally worth its
weight in gold. The most expensive kind costs two hundred francs (or
forty dollars) a yard."
Mr. Mapps finished his remarks for the present, and the ships' company
returned to the carriages, and were driven to the Place des Martyrs,
where there is a large monument erected to the memory of three hundred
Belgians, who fell in the Revolution of 1830, which made Belgium an
independent kingdom. From this point they passed into the broad
Boulevards to the Botanical Gardens, which, however, they did not enter,
but continued up the hill to the Park, a large enclosure, beautifully
laid out, and ornamented with statues. In one corner of it is the
Theatre du Parc, while in the square which surrounds it are located the
king's palace, the palace of the Prince of Orange, the Chamber of
Representatives, and other public buildings. The students visited the
king's palace;--but his majesty usually resides at Laeken, and the
establishment represents royalty on a small scale--and the Chamber of
Representatives, in which the two branches of the Belgian legislature
convene. In the latter, a woman showed them the Chambers, pointing out
some fine pictures, including portraits of the king and queen, and the
Battle of Waterloo, explaining everything in French.
"Where shall I find the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Mr. Stoute?" asked
Professor Hamblin, nervous and excited at the near prospect of standing
face to face before the great man of Belgium, and of being complimented
upon his great educational works.
"I don't know; but his office must be somewhere in this vicinity,"
replied the fat professor, laughing at the excitement of his associate.
One of the officials in charge of the party volunteered to conduct them
to the apartment of the distinguished revolutionist.
"You must come with me, Mr. Stoute," said the professor of Greek. "If it
turns out that Mr. Rogier don't speak English, I should be in an
unfortunate dilemma."
"I will go with you with pleasure," laughed Mr. Stoute, who was rather
desirous of witnessing the interview.
They were conducted to the apartments of the distinguished minister, and
formally and ceremoniously ushered into his presence. He bowed, and
regarded his visitors with cool indifference.
"Whom have I the honor to address?" asked the minister, in good English,
when Mr. Hamblin had made his best bow.
"I am Professor Hamblin, from the United States, at your service,"
replied the learned gentleman, who seemed to believe that this
announcement would bring the Belgian statesman to his feet, if not to
his arms--the professor's.
"Ah, indeed!" replied the minister, blankly.
"I had the pleasure of receiving a note from you at Antwerp," added the
American celebrity, annoyed at the coolness of the revolutionist.
"A note from me!" exclaimed the Belgian celebrity, curtly. "I never saw
you or heard of you before in my life."
Mr. Hamblin produced the formidable envelope, and drew therefrom the
epistle of sweet savor, which had been such a comfort to him in his
troubles. He presented it to the minister, satisfied that this would
recall the matter to his recollection.
"This note is not from me. I did not write it," said the Belgian, when
he had glanced hastily at the page.
"Really, I beg your excellency's pardon; but it is signed with your
name."
"It is a forgery--what you Americans call a practical joke, probably. I
haven't been in Antwerp for months."
There was an apparent convulsion in the fat frame of Mr. Stoute, who was
evidently struggling to suppress his mirth, or keep it within decent
limits.
"I am very sorry, sir," stammered Mr. Hamblin.
"The letter is an imposition, sir. I never heard of you before in my
life," added the great Belgian, tossing the note back to the professor,
with an impatience which indicated that he never wished to see him
again.
That vision had exploded--no invitation to dinner, none to visit the
king, none to accept the position of Librarian of the Greek portion of
the Royal Library, whose only duty was to consist in drawing his salary.
Mr. Hamblin bowed, and so far conformed to his original programme as to
back out of the office. Doubtless he came to the conclusion, in his
disgust, that Belgium was a "one-horse" kingdom, and that royalty was a
humbug.
The vision exploded; so did the mirth of Mr. Stoute, as soon as the door
of the department of foreign affairs had closed behind him. He laughed
till every ounce of his adipose frame quivered.
"What are you laughing at, Mr. Stoute?" demanded the disappointed suitor
for Belgian honors.
"You will excuse me, sir; but really I can't help it," choked the fat
professor.
"I really don't see anything to laugh at," added Mr. Hamblin,
indignantly.
"I was intensely amused at the shuffling indifference of Monsieur
Rogier. He evidently regards himself as a very great man, not to be
disturbed by insignificant Greek scholars."
"What do you mean by _insignificant_, Mr. Stoute?" asked the lean
professor, solemnly.
"Why, the minister had never even heard of you, of your Greek Grammar,
Greek Reader, and Anabasis. Such is fame!" chuckled the good-natured
instructor.
"'What we Americans call a practical joke,' were the words of the
minister. Do you regard this as a joke, Mr. Stoute?" said the learned
gentleman, very seriously.
"I suppose it is a joke to all, except the victim."
"Do you know anything about the author of this senseless piece of
imposition?"
"Certainly not. I had not the least idea that the ponderous document was
not genuine till his excellency pronounced it a forgery."
"Who could have done this?"
"Some of the students, probably."
"Probably," replied the professor, taking the note from his pocket
again, and carefully scanning the handwriting. "I have no doubt it was
done by one of the students. It is another of their infamous tricks--the
fourth that has been put upon me. Do the other instructors suffer in
this manner?"
"I have not heard of any other victims, and I am inclined to think you
are the only one."
"I do not see why I should be selected as the recipient of these silly
and ridiculous, not to say wicked, tricks. A rope falls on _my_ head,
_I_ am pitched into the river, drenched with dirty water, and now sent
on a fool's errand to the king's chief minister! I don't understand why
I am the only sufferer."
Professor Stoute did understand why Mr. Hamblin had been so frequently
sacrificed, but he had a habit of minding his own business, and did not
venture to give an opinion on the subject, which probably would not have
been well received. What the fat professor knew all the boys in the
Josephine, and most of those in the Young America, knew--that the cold,
stiff, haughty, tyrannical, overbearing manner of the lean professor had
made him exceedingly unpopular; that the students disliked him even to
the degree of hating him; that if he had ever had any influence with
them, he had lost it by his ridiculous sternness and stupid precision.
Mr. Hamblin did not know this, but everybody else did.
"Don't you know this writing, Mr. Stoute?" demanded the irate man of
Greek roots, after an attentive study of the note.
"I do not."
"I do!" added Mr. Hamblin, decidedly.
"You are fortunate then. If we can unearth the culprit, he will be
severely punished."
"I am not so clear on that point. This note was written by Captain
Kendall."
"Impossible!" exclaimed Mr. Stoute, seizing the note, and examining more
attentively than he had done before the writing it contained.
It did look like Paul's writing. It was his style, and there were not
more than two students in the Josephine who could have composed the
French in the document. Those two were Paul and Duncan. But Mr. Stoute
was unwilling to believe that the captain would resort to such a
proceeding.
"I shall charge him with it," added Mr. Hamblin.
"I advise you not to do it without more evidence than you have yet
obtained," said Mr. Stoute, seriously.
"After we return to the vessel I shall probably be able to obtain some
proof," continued Mr. Hamblin, as he put the letter in his pocket.
When they went to look for the rest of the party, they found them
forming a line in the square. Present with Mr. Lowington was his
excellency, the governor of Antwerp, who had just invited the company to
visit the palace gardens. In even lines, with the officers in their
proper places, the procession marched across the park and through the
gates, at which a file of Belgian soldiers presented arms to them. In
the garden they formed a line on one of the walks. Near the palace,
walking to and fro, was an old gentleman, but still erect and manly,
with a glittering decoration on his breast. Several other persons, most
of them dressed in uniform, or decked with orders, were standing near
the old gentleman.
Presently the governor of Antwerp approached the ship's company,
attended by an officer to whom Mr. Lowington was introduced. The three
then walked towards the old gentleman, to whom the principal was
presented. The venerable personage bowed gracefully, but did not offer
to shake hands, or indulge in any republican familiarities.
"That's the King of Belgium," said Dr. Winstock to Paul, as the
principal and the venerable person approached the line, followed by the
officials.
"The king!" exclaimed Paul, taken all aback by the announcement; and
this was the first time he had ever looked upon a live monarch. "He
seems just like any other man; what shall we do?"
"Give him three Yankee cheers," replied the doctor.
Captain Kendall spoke to the flag-officer and to Captain Haven.
"Three cheers for his majesty the King of Belgium!" called Flag-officer
Gordon.
They were given with a will, but the "tiger" was omitted in deference to
royalty. King Leopold gracefully and graciously acknowledged the salute
by touching his hat, and then walked up and down the line, inspecting
the ship's company. Mr. Lowington, hat in hand, walked just behind him.
His majesty then took position in front of the line, and the students
came to the conclusion that he was going to make a speech; but he did
not: he spoke to Mr. Lowington again, who went to the line and called
out the flag-officer and the two captains.
"You are to be presented to the king; don't speak unless you are asked a
question, and don't turn your back to him," said Mr. Lowington in a low
tone.
Paul was startled at the idea of being presented to King Leopold, but he
followed his companions, and in due time was with them handed over to
the gentleman who had presented the principal, and who proved to be the
grand chamberlain.
"Captain Kendall, commander of the Josephine," said the gentleman, when
Paul's turn came.
Paul bowed, blushing up to the eyes, when he became conscious that the
royal gaze was fixed upon him; but he had self-possession enough not to
overdo the matter, and his salute was as dignified and graceful as that
of majesty itself. The king smiled when he saw the fine form and
handsome face of the junior captain.
"Do you command a ship?" asked his majesty, surveying the young officer
from head to foot, with a pleasant smile on his face.
"I command the Josephine, your majesty; she is not a ship, but a topsail
schooner of one hundred and sixty tons," replied Paul, satisfied that
kings speak just like other men.
"You are very young to command a vessel of that size," added the king.
Paul bowed, but made no reply, as no question was asked.
"Can you manage her in a gale?" asked his majesty.
"I think I can, your majesty; at least I have done so within a week on
the coast of your majesty's dominions."
The king actually laughed at this confident reply. As he bowed slightly,
Paul, for the first time in his life, backed out, and continued to back
till he reached his station at the head of the Josephines. The king then
bowed to the whole line, and retired. As he did so, Flag-officer Gordon
called for three more cheers. The king turned and bowed again. This
time the snapper, in the form of the tiger, was applied, which so
astonished the royal personage that he turned once more, laughed, and
bowed.
Professor Hamblin looked very nervous and discontented. "That boy" had
been presented to the king, and he, who had compiled a Greek Grammar, a
Greek Reader, and edited the Anabasis, had been "left out in the cold."
If it was possible for a great mind like that of the _savant_ to harbor
such a vicious feeling as envy, he certainly envied Paul Kendall his
brief interview with the King of the Belgians.
The party retired from the garden, and returned to the carriages. It
appeared in explanation of this unexpected honor, that the governor of
Antwerp had waited on the king that day, and informed him casually of
the presence of the students of the academy squadron in the capital, and
he had expressed a desire to see them in a very informal manner. Mr.
Lowington was no "flunky," and never sought admission to the presence of
royalty, for himself or his pupils.
As the procession of omnibuses and fiacres moved down to the lower town,
they were thrown into great excitement by seeing many of the streets and
houses dressed with flags and other devices. On inquiring at the hotel,
Mr. Molenschot informed Paul that it was a saint's day, and that a
religious procession would march through some of the principal streets.
"Go down into the Boulevard d'Anvers, and you will have a good chance to
see the show," added the landlord.
"What is it?"
"O, it is really very fine and very grand; but go at once, or you will
be too late."
The students were permitted to go to the street indicated, and they had
hardly secured a good place before they heard martial music, playing a
solemn dirge.