|OUR fruitless search in Arras for some examples of the ancient
tapestries somewhat dampened the ardor of our tour at the very
beginning. But in the train on our way to Lille we Had a charming view
of suburban Arras lying basking in the sun, all girt by its verdant belt
of dense dark green trees. From the window of the railway carriage we
saw the horizon expand, and hill after hill unroll, covered with waving
corn, and realized that France s great northern granary lay spread
before our eyes, the fields like cabochon emeralds set royally in virgin
gold.
Approaching Lille one got the impression of a region in which the
commonweal formed the keynote, so to speak, and after the beauties
surrounding quaint Arras, it seemed somewhat sordid. The embossed
fair green hills were replaced by level plains; the smiling cornfields
vanished before barren brown moors. The wealth of the earth here lay
far below the plains, and man was busied in bringing it to the surface.
Ceres gave way to Vulcan: Prosperous picturesque farmsteads were
displaced by high black and ugly furnaces from which tremendous volumes
of pitch black smoke issued the live-long day, and maybe the night as
well. The stacks of grimy chimneys were seemingly as high as the spires
of churches, and ashes and dust covered all. Lille is in the coal
region. Somehow as we approached it we thought of our own Pittsburgh.
The latter is no whit dirtier, but it is not so picturesque as was
Lille. Roubaix, on the horizon, is even dirtier, so a traveling
companion informed us, and gave us other information which kept us away
from that Flemish town. Lille was said to be the administrative factor
of northern France, in point of industry. The town had upwards of one
hundred and thirty thousand inhabitants, among whom there were some
possessed of great fortunes. These built for themselves houses of
magnificent proportions on both sides of boulevards leading nowhere. In
this region we found a café restaurant of princely aspect "as good as
any in Paris," the townspeople proudly said, with a huge mansard roof,
and a tower which did not fit it. On the river bank, lined with barges,
were two fine promenades, brand new, and at the end of one was an
artificial waterfall with plenty of water falling over artificial rocks
in doubtful taste, of which the Lilleois were so pathetically proud that
we could only smilingly agree to their extravagant joy in it as a work
of art. Here we found American made tram cars running through the
rather commonplace streets, which however were teeming with life and
"business." In response to a question, a "cabby" urged as the greatest
attraction a ride out to the hydraulic works situated on a plain, where
a great engine pumped drinking water from a deep well inclosed in brick
work. The whole atmosphere of the place was like unto that of one of
our own Yankee towns. But there were, of course, some notable and
picturesque buildings in Lille. There was the Exchange, the chief
architectural ornament of the city, and really it was impossible to see
it without pausing in admiration of its characteristics. Occupying, as
it did, the great Market Place, I know of no other building like it save
perhaps the Exchange in Antwerp, that lovely semi-Moorish hall with its
shield-emblazoned frieze, and its lofty glass ceiling. This one at Lille
was, of course, smaller, but it had the great advantage of being free
from encroaching buildings, and standing quite alone, being visible from
all four sides.
Then, too, it was a genuine example of its order of architecture, a
beautifully preserved specimen of the ancient Spanish style, with
an added touch here and there of Italian Renaissance which blended
charmingly. The walls were of Flemish red brick, while the Atrium, open
to the sky, and serving as an inner court, was pure Italian. Here was
a fine bronze statue of Napoléon I, all clad in imperial robes, about
which the busy, bustling merchants of Lille transacted some of their
business in the afternoons. In the mornings we found most delightful
solitude here in this court, which then by contrast seemed liker unto
the cloisters of some abbey than the busy commercial center it was later
in the day. Emblazoned here upon marble slabs one could read of the
records of famous citizens of the town whose deeds were esteemed as
precious and noteworthy. It is said that it was at either Lille or
Tournai that Napoleon found the golden bees which he adopted for the
Imperial insignia, these being taken from the tomb of a Frankish king.
We were further reminded of the Palais Royal in Paris, in the small
shops, most brilliantly lighted at night, which formed the outer ring of
the building. Here were displayed _bijoux-or-et-argent_, and also more
or less exquisitely made robes for Madame de Lille.
The upper part of the building, which was two-storied, had dormer
windows, and a quadrant of beautifully designed and executed interlaced
stonework with a profusion of caryatides, pilasters, and bands of carved
stone fruit and garlands of flowers, all of the greatest richness,
within an astonishingly small space. Nowhere could we find the name of
the architect, but it is said that the foundation was laid in 1652 by
the Spanish. Workmen were busy cleaning a small turret of most
graceful design which rose from above the walls of this quaint old
Hispano-Flemish monument, and I noted the care with which the work was
being done, a pleasing testimonial to the love of the people of Lille
for their ancient work of art.
The Rihour Palace was far greater in size than the Exchange, but it did
not match it in importance. The greater part of it was modern, for it
was almost destroyed in the eighteenth century. Used as a town hall in
the time of Louis Philippe, it became a sort of academy of art, wherein
was displayed, and very well, too, a princely collection of paintings
of Flemish and Dutch schools, and also the great collection of drawings
known as the "Wicar Legacy," representing the Italian school, and
containing a piece of sculpture of which all the museums of Europe
envied that of Lille.
This in the catalogue was described as, "A waxen head of Raphael's time,
titled thus by the hand of Wicar himself when in 1834 he drew up in Rome
the inventory of the old Italian art collection." * Huet regards this
as a marvel that one should not miss seeing. He says, "In truth, one
fancies himself to be looking at the transparent, softly tinted face of
one of Raphael's Madonnas. Innocence and gentleness dispute each other
the palm in the expression of the features, they have settled on the
pure brow, they play tranquilly and somewhat sadly around the mouth,
they are crowned by the plaits of the fair tresses." We admired the head
and treasured Wicar's description of it.
* "The Land of Rubens," C. B. Huet.
Enumeration of the treasures contained in the Palais des Beaux
Arts would take a volume in itself. Suffice it to say here that the
collection contained in this edifice was among the most important in all
France.
Rumors have appeared in print during the last two years, that this whole
collection has been carefully packed and sent to Berlin. At this date of
writing (May, 1917) Lille has not yet been evacuated by the Germans,
and we are told that none of the buildings has been destroyed save some
unimportant ones near the railway station. Just what will be the fate
of the town may be conjectured when one reflects upon what happened to
Noyon, to Rheims, to Soissons, and to St. Quentin, when the invaders
were no longer able to hold them.
Let us pray that the Musée Wicar may be spared, by some happy chance.
Wicar was an artist who died in 1834, who made a great deal of money
by his work, and whose real hobby was the collection of the drawings
by great masters, including nearly two hundred and fifty drawings by
Michelangelo, sixty-eight by Raphael, and a large number by Francia,
Titian and others, besides endless examples of the Renaissance.