OUR LADY OF ANTWERP.
In her did beauty, youth, and bounty dwell,
A virgin port and features feminine;
Far better than my feeble tongue can tell,
Did meek-eyed wisdom in her features shine;
She seemed perfay, a thing almost divine.
JAMES I. OF SCOTLAND.
Antwerp was then in the zenith of its commercial glory, and to a
traveller like Sir Patrick Gray, who had never seen a larger city
than the little Edinburgh of James II. clustering on its rocky ridge,
surrounded by forests of oak and pathless hills, the great Flemish
town, in the splendour of its mercantile prosperity, with a population
of more than two hundred thousand souls, presented a scene of varying
wonders, amid which he was almost disposed to forget his embassy, and
to linger for a time.
Nor was this desire lessened, when Maître Baudoin, a garrulous little
Frenchman, who was keeper of the hostelry at which he lodged--the
"Grille of St. Laurence"--informed him that, "by recent rains, all the
roads between the Scheldt and Maese were impassable; that the sluices
of several of the barrier fortresses had given way; that the rivers had
overflowed their banks; and that the Peel Morass, which lies between
Brabant and Gueldreland, was, for the time, an actual sea. Moreover,"
he added, "it is but a few days until the 15th of the month, when the
Feast of the Assumption will be held in the cathedral of our Lady of
Antwerp, with a splendour never before witnessed in the city; people
are arriving from all quarters, and Monseigneur l'Evêque de Mechlin
has found a young lady of great beauty and high rank, to appear as our
patroness in the procession."
"Though this may be no inducement to a lover, it may be one to a
storm-stayed traveller," replied Gray; "but who is this lady, Maître
Baudoin?"
"Ah--who indeed, messire!" replied the hosteller shrugging his
shoulders; "who indeed!"
"What--is she the Princess Mary of Gueldres?"
"Pardieu! no one can tell who the lady may be, save herself and
Monseigneur l'Evêque; it is always kept secret."
"Why--how?"
"You see, messire, secrecy and mystery enhance the charm of her
appearance. It is very droll."
"And she is sure to be beautiful?"
"Superbe, messire!"
While the master of the hostel ran on thus, and then proceeded to
enumerate all the great personages, such as Monseigneur the prince of
Ravenstein, MM. the marquises of Berg and Anvers, the count of Nassau,
and others who were sure to be present with their ladies, esquires,
and men-at-arms, Gray mentally resolved to tarry for a day or two and
witness the spectacle, prior to which he could see all the marvels of
this great Flemish capital.
A vast city it was, with its long and quaint streets of old and
steep-roofed houses, built of painted brick and carved wood, with a
stork's nest on every chimney; the pavement full of life and bustle,
and swarming with ruddy-cheeked young fraus, each having a dozen
petticoats; and bulbous-shaped Flemings wearing the old proverbial big
red or brown trunk-hose, bombasted with sawdust or tow, and bedecked
with rows of shiny buttons at the side; its booths, its shops and
stores, crammed with treasures and merchandise from all parts of
Christendom and the East--the mysterious realms of Prester John; while
boats and barges, all glittering with brown varnish paint and gilding,
plied to and fro under the bridges of the Scheldt or its canals, laden
with boxes, barrels, and bales, or with ruddy fruit, green vegetables,
or ponderous cattle, or with men, women, and children, long-robed
priests, and mail-clad soldiers, all gabbling and laughing in the
guttural _patois_ of the old Lotheringian kingdom. Then there were the
long and stately rows of linden trees and the ramparts of the citadel;
while, with scores of little shops nestling between its countless
buttresses, high over all towered the mighty cathedral, the glory of
Antwerp, with its sixty-six chapels, its roof that springs from one
hundred and twenty-five pillars--its altars, statues, and pictures,
with that gorgeous steeple which seems to pierce the sky, and the
carvings of which are so exquisite that Charles V. said, "it should be
put into a case and shown only on holidays."
On its summit, four hundred and fifty feet above the busy streets,
there hung, in those days, four great copper pans, in which the
burghers were wont to kindle fires on the approach of an enemy; for
the Gueldrians, Lorainers, Burgundians, and even the Frieslanders
from beyond Utrecht and the waveless Zuider Zee, worked the wealthy
Antwerpers sore mischief in time of war and tumult.
In this vast city Gray resided unnoticed and unknown, and spent several
days pleasantly enough; so the great festival came to pass before the
waters subsided on the frontiers.
On the night of the 15th August, after vespers, when the brilliant
procession was to issue from the cathedral, Gray armed himself, and,
guided by Maître Baudoin, of the _Grille de Ste. Laurence_, obtained a
good place near the porch of the cathedral; within, without, and all
around which were assembled the thousands of Antwerp to witness the
procession, in which so much of a religious pageant with civic mummery
were to mingle. The excitement was increased by the wide-spread rumour
that a young foreign girl of high rank--a princess at least--had been
chosen on this occasion to represent our Lady of Antwerp; thus all the
city were on tiptoe in honour of the occasion, the patroness of their
cathedral, of the city, and of all Christian women.
The armed vassals of the powerful and wealthy bishop of Mechlin formed
a lane, with their partisans parting the crowd before the cathedral
gate. Each soldier bore a torch, and the lurid glow of these fell
fitfully on their bearded visages, their steel caps and breastplates,
or tipped with seeming fire the points of their partisans. Beyond, the
wavering gleam lighted partially the sombre and dusky masses of the
people, who crowded all the thoroughfares like a human sea.
The thirty-three bells of the cathedral were tolling, and from the
depths of its long-drawn aisles and echoing arches strains of the
sacred music within came forth and floated over the bowed heads of the
hushed and expectant multitude.
At last the bells rang out a merrier peal; the gilded gates revolved,
and, when more torches were lighted, a glow of sudden splendour seemed
to fill the great portico of the church, and all the white marble
statues of saints, kings, and warriors seemed to start from their
canopied niches into life.
There was a palpable vibration among the people--a heaving to and fro
of the human tide--as the glitter of the coming pageant appeared in the
arched depths of the church; but the heaving was steadily repressed
by the steel points of the levelled partisans, while here and there
a half-stifled shriek from a woman, or a gruff Flemish oath from a
man, announced that the pressure was greater than their patience could
endure. But now the procession was seen slowly descending the steps of
the portico, and exclamations of pleasure and astonishment burst from
time to time in front of the masses; and these, as usual, served but to
excite the curiosity and irritate the temper of the less fortunate who
were too far off in the rear, or were hopelessly crushed against the
adjacent houses.
First came the twenty-eight corporations of the city, clad in gowns
of fine cloth, with their banners and insignia; the nine nobles, with
their swords and coronets borne by pages; the nine masters of the
streets, with their swords and keys; the two burgomasters, and a giant
eight feet high (on heels of cork), bearing the banner of Antwerp,
heraldically charged with two human hands.
Maître Baudoin informed Gray, in a hasty whisper, that, in ancient
times, a giant named Antwerpen had lived there amid the swamps, and was
wont to cast into the Scheldt all who displeased him, having previously
cut off their hands; and this was the legend of the city's coat
armorial.
"And see, messire," added the little Frenchman, "by St. Louis here
comes one of his teeth!"
As he spoke, an _echevin_ passed, bearing on a silver platter this
palladium of Antwerp--a gigantic _human_ tooth, said to be "a
handbreadth long and sixteen ounces in weight."
The shouts of wonder and laughter excited by the giant, with his shaggy
black hair and beard, his red, pimpled nose and mighty scimitar, were
hushed when, preceded by choristers and boys swinging silver censers of
incense, the dean of the cathedral, with his twenty-four canons and the
confraternity of the Holy Circumcision, in all the splendour of their
full canonicals, were seen descending into the street and passing on
amid the flare of a thousand uplifted torches, a mass of muslin, lace,
and embroidery.
Next came the twelve apostles, with their respective badges, each
represented by a handsome young man, and all clad in flowing robes of
brilliant red, blue, or yellow serge: St. Peter, with his keys, and
St. Paul, with a sword; St. Andrew, with a cross-saltire; St. James
Minor, with a fuller's pole; St. John, with a cup, out of which an
ingeniously-contrived winged serpent strove to fly; St. Bartholomew,
with a knife; St. Philip, with a cross-staff; St. Thomas, with a goodly
Flemish partisan; St. Mathias, with a battle-axe; St. James Major, with
a pilgrim's staff and gourd; St. Simeon, with a saw; and St. Jude, with
a club.
Then came an effigy of Judas, with a red beard, dragged by the headsman
of the city, and surrounded by a score of merry imps, with horns and
tails, all whooping and dancing, as if eager to convey his soul to
the shades below; and their tricks and gambols filled the crowd with
laughter.
The princess of Ravenstein, robed in pure white, with a diadem
sparkling on her brow, a palm-branch in one hand and a flaming sword in
the other, was borne past as St. Catherine upon a car, the wheels of
which were concealed by flowing drapery.
Preceded by his banner, next came the abbot of St. Michael, an edifice
founded by a son of the Palatine, Count Herbert of Picardie; and then,
under a canopy borne by the marquises of Antwerp and Berg, the counts
of Bommel and Nassau, came the bishop of Mechlin, with his crozier
and mitre, his vestments glittering with precious stones and massive
embroidery, and all the clergy of the diocese following, with their
hands crossed on their breasts, and their eyes lowered on the earth, in
token of Christian piety and humility.
But now the excitement reached its height, while something of awe was
mingled with the hushed curiosity of the people, and every mailed
soldier held his streaming torch aloft, when twelve stout monks of
St. Michael's Abbey, all marching slowly in their black cassocks,
approached, with a species of throne upon their shoulders, and on that
throne sat a female, who represented our Lady of Antwerp.
This chair seemed a veritable blaze of precious stones, as the ladies
of the city yearly contributed their jewels to decorate it. Little
children, dressed as seraphs, with snow-white wings, nestled at its
base, and over it there seemed to float a curiously-contrived silver
cloud, amid which shone thirteen stars, that sparkled in the light of
the torches.
The lady who personated the Virgin in this strange procession was said
to be very beautiful, so Gray pressed vigorously forward to obtain a
glimpse of her; and his resolute aspect, his scarred face and athletic
form, his long sword and shirt of mail, repressed even the officious
petulance of the men-at-arms, who would have thrust him back as a
stranger, or one who was unknown to them; and little Maître Baudoin
profited by this influence to secure a good place, and rubbed his hands
with nervous ecstasy.
On came the marching monks with the glittering throne, and Sir Patrick
Gray could see that they bore up a beautiful female figure, clad in
robes of the greatest value--for gold, silver, and precious stones
were lavished in their adornment, while a glory, composed of diamonds,
sparkled and blazed around her sweet young face, which expressed,
alternately, alarm, awe, and pleasure at the scene below, and the part
she felt so honoured by enacting before so vast a multitude.
Maître Baudoin, who clung to the skirt of Gray's pourpoint, uttered
loud exclamations of rapture; but the Captain of the Guard was
voiceless as one whom Heaven had stricken dumb; for how great was his
bewilderment, how deep were his emotions, how profound his surprise,
on recognizing in the damsel who was borne past on that brilliant
throne, as our Lady of Antwerp, the features of Murielle Douglas--his
own Murielle--whom he fondly believed to be far away in the wilds of
Galloway!