his will expressed a desire that his ashes might rest on the banks of
the Seine, in the midst of the French people whom he had loved so well.
The open circular crypt is beneath the lofty dome, whose light falls
upon it through colored glass, and with a wonderful effect. The pavement
of the crypt is a mosaic, representing a great crown of laurels, within
which are inscribed the names of Napoleon's most important victories;
and twelve colossal figures symbolizing conquests, surround the wreath.
The sarcophagus rests upon the mosaic pavement within the crypt, which
is twenty feet in depth. This is an enormous block of red sandstone,
weighing more than sixty tons, which surmounts another huge block
supported by a splendid rock of green granite. The scene is solemn and
grandly impressive, the faint bluish light from above, producing an
effect wholly indescribable. In the higher of the two cupolas, directly
over the crypt, is a painting, with figures which appear of life-size
even at this great distance, of Christ presenting to St. Louis the sword
with which he vanquished the enemies of Christianity.
Here is Versailles, with its "little park of twelve miles in extent, and
its great park of forty," with its beautiful fountains and grottos, its
wonderful groves and flower-beds. Here are velvety lawns adorned with
fine statuary, green alleys, shrubberies and terraces, in which art and
nature are so cunningly intermingled that they are often mistaken for
each other. The fountains are representations of mythological
characters, and the figures are carried out in their immediate
surroundings. Apollo is in his grotto, served by seven graceful nymphs:
while close by the steeds of the sun-god are being watered by tritons.
Again, the basin of this god appears surrounded by tritons, nymphs and
dolphins, with Neptune and Amphitrite in the centre, reposing in an
immense shell.
Latona, Apollo and Diana are represented by a fine group: the goddess is
imploring Jupiter to punish the Lycian peasants who have refused her a
draught of water, while all around her, in swift answer to her appeal,
are the peasants, some partially transformed, others wholly changed into
huge frogs and tortoises, condemned here to an endless penalty of
casting jets of water toward the offended deity.
Here is the famous old cathedral of Notre Dame de Paris with which
Victor Hugo has made the world familiar. This grand Gothic structure was
commenced in the twelfth century, and finished in the fourteenth. We
view its exterior from a position facing the fine west facade, with its
wonderful rose window between the huge square towers. The three
beautiful portals are ornamented with rich sculptures and imposing
statuary. These doors form a succession of receding arches, dating from
the early part of the thirteenth century. The central portion is a fine
representation of the Last Judgment. The interior is vast and impressive
with its vaulted arches and long rows of columns. The ancient stained
glass of Notre Dame is represented by three magnificent rose windows.
From the summit of the tower there is a glorious view of the Seine and
its picturesque banks and bridges: indeed one of the loveliest views in
Paris.
Another famous and beautiful edifice is the Madeleine, or church of St.
Mary Magdalene, which stands in an open space not far from the Place de
la Concorde. It is in the form of a Grecian temple, surrounded by
Corinthian columns, and the flight of twenty-eight steps by which one
approaches the church, extends across its entire breadth. The great
bronze doors are adorned with illustrations of the ten commandments.
Within, the walls and floors are of marble richly ornamented, and the
side chapels contain fine statues, and paintings of scenes from the life
of Mary Magdalene. The high altar is a magnificent marble group
representing angels bearing Mary Magdalene into Paradise. This whole
interior is indescribably beautiful, and to enter into its details one
would require a volume. From this sublime spectacle we pass to the
Church of St. Genevieve, the protectress of the city of Paris,
familiarly known as the Pantheon. This also is a magnificent structure,
with three rows of beautiful Corinthian columns supporting its portico.
The handsome pediment above this portico contains a splendid group of
statuary in high relief, representing France in the act of distributing
garlands to her famous sons. The central figure is fifteen feet in
height. The edifice is in the form of a Greek cross, surmounted by a
majestic dome, two hundred and eighty feet high.
Within the church the spacious rotunda is encircled by Corinthian
columns which support a handsome gallery, and he who ascends to the dome
will have an opportunity of observing closely the wonderful painting,
covering a space of thirty-seven hundred square feet, which represents
St. Genevieve receiving homage from Clovis, the first Christian monarch
of France, Charlemagne, St. Louis, and Louis XVIII., while the royal
martyrs of the French Revolution are pictured in the heavenly regions
above. In the gloomy vaults below we behold the tombs of a number of
eminent men, among them those of Rousseau, Voltaire, and Soufflot, the
architect of the Pantheon. In the middle of the vaults is an astonishing
echo. The roll of a drum here would sound like the thunder of artillery;
a board dropped upon the pavement is like the report of a cannon, and
the reverberations are repeated over and over again as though these
subterranean spirits are loth to resign the opportunity of speech so
seldom afforded them.
The tourist in Paris rarely fails to spend at least one evening in the
Jardin Mabille; that is the male tourist, who is curious to behold life
in all its phrases, and whom the fame of the garden attracts as the
candle draws the moth. This is a pretty spot, with bowery paths, gay
flowers, sparkling fountains, arbors and sheltered corners where lovers
and others may enjoy tete-a-tetes undisturbed, and refreshments may be
ordered to suit purses of all dimensions. There is a good orchestra on
the brilliantly illuminated stand, and here the soubrette is in the
height of her glory, while the better class of the visitors are as a
rule, only spectators. There is some pretty gay dancing here, but order
is preserved. On certain nights fine displays of fireworks attract many
spectators. But the great feature is the dance, and the proprietors
generally employ some girls distinguished by peculiar grace, beauty, or
other characteristics who serve as magnets to the light and
pleasure-loving throngs.
But why attempt to give even a faint idea of the innumerable attractions
of the city whose abundant resources bewilder the tourist whose time is
limited. It teems with life. It is overflowing with beauty, passion and
love. Wandering along its gay boulevards, whether in the bright
sunshine, or beneath the starry vault of night, with picturesque
mansions or gay shops on either side, or amid the bowery paths and
bewitching avenues, the gardens, statues, music and laughter, one feels
that he is in an enchanted land, where high and low, rich and poor share
alike in the universal beauty and happiness.
The charming banks of the Seine offer endless attractions. Here are many
beautiful bridges, from which one may have picturesque views of the
lovely gardens and palaces. These bridges are handsomely ornamented with
statuary, bronzes, and reliefs, and bear interesting inscriptions.
Floating bathing establishments are to be seen along these banks, and
swimming schools for both sexes. Here are also large floats or boats
capable of accommodating at least fifty women, who wash their clothing
in the Seine. It is quite interesting to watch these robust girls and
women, as they pat and slap the heaps of muslin with the large paddles
provided for this purpose.
When a death occurs in a family of the middle class in Paris, it is
customary to drape the whole lower story of the house with black, and
place the body of the deceased in the front room. Holy water is placed
at the head, also candles and a crucifix, and any one may enter and view
the body, or sprinkle it with holy water, and offer a prayer for the
soul of the departed.
The men who pass a house so distinguished reverently uncover their
heads: they also take off their hats on the appearance of a funeral, and
remain so until the procession has passed.
For him who is interested in such sights, the morgue presents a curious
but sad attraction. Here lie on marble slabs, kept cool by a continuous
stream of water, the bodies of unknown persons who have met their death
in the river or by accident. Their clothing is suspended above their
heads, and any one may enter and view these silent rows. After a certain
period, if not identified, they are buried at the public expense. I
behold many pathetic sights here, as broken-hearted relatives find their
worst fears realized and lost and erring ones are recognized. Sad, sad
are the pictures to be seen at the morgue. Here is a fair young girl, of
not more than twenty years, resting peacefully upon her marble bed, her
troubles in this world over forever. Her body was found yesterday
floating on the Seine.
"One more unfortunate
Weary of breath,
Sadly importunate,
Gone to her death.
"Touch her not scornfully;
Think of her mournfully,
Gently and humanly;
Not of the stains of her,
All that remains of her
Now is pure womanly.
"Make no deep scrutiny
Into her mutiny
Rash and undutiful:
Past all dishonor,
Death has left on her
Only the beautiful."
Pere Lachaise, once an old Jesuit stronghold, is now the largest
cemetery in Paris. It is said that there are more than eighteen
thousand monuments here. The older part is much crowded, and we find
here famous names connected with every age and profession.
Here is a granite pyramid, here one of white marble, and here the love
of a nation commemorates with flowers the grave of a man whose
resting-place no lofty monument marks, but who "lives forever in the
hearts of the French people." Here a monument whose sides exhibit
bas-reliefs of the fable of the fox and stork, and the wolf and lamb, is
surmounted by the figure of a fox carved in black marble. This is the
tomb of Lafontaine. The little Gothic chapel yonder is the tomb of
Abelard, whose effigy lies upon the sarcophagus within, and beside it is
that of Heloise. This double monument is very lovely, although the signs
of neglect and decay are plainly visible.
The military chiefs of Napoleon's day sleep in this cemetery, and here
lie the mortal remains of St. Pierre, the author of Paul and Virginia,
of the great painter, David, of Pradier, the sculptor, the actress
Rachel, and hundreds of others with whose names we are all familiar. The
grounds are picturesque with winding paths, and cypress groves, and
wreaths and flowers everywhere testify to the loving remembrance in
which the dead are held by the living. The elevated position of Pere
Lachaise gives one a fine view of the city. The grounds when first laid
out in 1804, covered upward of forty acres; they now extend over more
than two hundred acres, and it is said that $25,000,000 have been
expended in monuments since this cemetery was opened.
Antwerp and the City of Windmills.
_Antwerp and the City of Windmills._
From Paris to Antwerp--Along the Route--Thrifty Farmers--Antwerp--Dogs
in Harness--The River--Old Churches--Chimes--An Inappreciative
Listener--Steen Museum--Instruments of Torture--Lace Industry--Living
Expenses--Hospitality--The City of Windmills--Watery Highways--A City
of Canals--The Maas River--The Houses on the Canals--Travel by
Boats--Novel Scenes--Costly Headgear--Dutch Costumes--Powerful Draught
Horses--No Bonbons--Chocolate Candy--In the Market-Place--The Belle of
the Market--Photographs--Wooden Shoes--Drawbridges--Blowing the
Horn--Ancient Relics--The Sword of Columbus.
The country between Paris and Antwerp is delightful, and very different
from the lovely landscapes of England. Farms, towns, villages, all
present a novel aspect, and the people speak a language very strange to
our ears. The great fields along the road are not fenced in but are only
distinguished from one another by the difference in the appearance of
the crops. In England, as I have said, there are beautiful hedges
everywhere separating the fields and meadows.
Here are strong men and women working side by side in the fields. Here
are buxom country lasses, rope in hand, one end of which is attached to
the horns of the leader of a herd of cattle. These are glowing pictures,
and the clean farmhouses, fields and roads are abundant evidences of the
industry and thrift of the people.
Antwerp may well be termed a city of charms and fascinations. It is the
most attractive and interesting town in Belgium, and at the same time
one of the strongest fortresses in Europe. Our first impression of this
place is of clean orderly streets, paved with the square Belgian blocks
which endure so well the wear and tear of constant travel. The houses
and shops are of a quaint, ancient style of architecture, and very
picturesque effect. During the middle ages, Antwerp was a very
important, as well as wealthy city, and its splendid docks, its
wonderful cathedral, its magnificent paintings all testify that a period
of exceptional prosperity has been granted to it in the past.
A strange sight are the heavy freight wagons, with their broad wheels
and various loads, drawn by large powerful dogs. In many cases the dogs,
of which there are sometimes two or three, are strapped under the body
of the wagon by a kind of leather harness, or, if the owner be too poor,
rope is substituted. A man or woman assists in drawing the load, which
is frequently so massive as to appear disproportioned to the combined
strength of man and beast. The dogs are bred and trained for their
peculiar vocation, and are never allowed to shirk their part of the
burden imposed upon them. Should they attempt to do so, they are quickly
recalled to their duty by a small whip, hence the maximum result may be
obtained from their labor. Their muscular limbs show plainly that they
possess great strength and endurance. Large powerful draught horses with
well defined muscles are also used. These horses must weigh fully from
twelve to sixteen hundred pounds, and when four or six are harnessed
abreast, tons of merchandise may be moved in one load. Antwerp, a city
of about 260,000 inhabitants, is one of the greatest seaports of Europe,
having splendid facilities for ships of every size, and huge warehouses
for the landing and storage of immense quantities of merchandise. It is
finely situated on the Schelde, which is at this point one third of a
mile wide and thirty feet deep, and serves as an outlet for the commerce
of Germany as well as Belgium. The town was founded in the seventh
century, and has passed through many vicissitudes, attaining the summit
of its glory under the Emperor Charles V., about the close of the
fifteenth century. At that period it is said that thousands of vessels
lay in the Schelde at one time, and a hundred or more arrived and
departed daily. Its decline began under the Spanish rule, when the
terrors of the Inquisition banished thousands of its most valuable
citizens, who sought refuge in other countries, especially in England,
where they established silk factories, and assisted greatly in
stimulating the commerce of the country. After scenes of war and
frightful devastation, varied by brief seasons of prosperity, the tide
of success once more returned to the old harbors about 1863, and since
then its commerce has increased in a greater ratio than that of any
other European city. The Flemish population predominates, and its
characteristics are those of a German town.
We enjoy many lovely views along the river frontage, where dozens upon
dozens of ships lining the banks, offer a variety of pictures to the
lover of water scenes, besides the fine prospect of the town from the
river.
[Illustration: "The largest and handsomest Gothic church in the
Netherlands." (_See page 107._)]
That the Cathedral is the first attraction for the tourist goes without
saying, and those are well repaid who climb far up into its magnificent
spire, even beyond the great group of bells that captivate the soul with
their wonderful sweetness and melody. At a height of four hundred feet,
the vast prospect spread out before one is indescribably beautiful.
This Cathedral, the largest and handsomest Gothic church in the
Netherlands, was begun in 1352, but was not completed until about 1616.
The chimes consist of ninety-nine bells, the smallest of which is only
fifteen inches in circumference, while the largest weighs eight tons.
The chimes are rung every fifteen minutes, a musical reminder that the
soul of man, no matter what his occupation, should be elevated by
continual aspiration toward the living God. Oh, these beautiful chimes!
What wondrous harmony they peal forth, and what a multitude of loving
thoughts they gather up and waft hourly to the very gates of heaven!
A stranger in the town, and a traveller, made the remark to me that
these bells must be very annoying, ringing at such short intervals, and
especially at night. "It is worse than a swarm of mosquitoes," he said,
"for one can escape the attentions of these insects by placing a net
over his couch, but the piercing sounds of these monstrous bells
penetrate one like the chill of zero weather." This reminded me of a man
who shared our compartment in one of the French railway cars, who
interrupted my enthusiastic remarks on Westminster Abbey, its exquisite
associations, and the sacred atmosphere which impressed all who came
within its hallowed walls, by an eager question regarding the luncheon
to be served an hour later.
The interior of the Cathedral impresses one with its grand simplicity,
and the long vistas of its six aisles present a fine effect. Here is
Rubens' famous masterpiece, the Descent from the Cross, and his earlier
painting, the Elevation of the Cross, both magnificent works, remarkable
for the easy and natural attitudes of the figures. The high altarpiece
is an Assumption by Rubens, in which the Virgin is pictured in the
clouds surrounded by a heavenly choir, with the apostles and other
figures below.
There are many other paintings here; also stained glass windows, both
ancient and modern. The tower is an open structure of beautiful and
elaborate design, from which lovely views may be seen during the journey
to its summit.
Another interesting landmark is the "Steen" originally forming part of
the Castle of Antwerp, but in 1549 Charles V. made it over to the
burghers of Antwerp. It was afterward the seat of the Spanish
Inquisition. It is now occupied by the Museum van Oudheden, a collection
of ancient and curious relics from the Roman times till the eighteenth
century. Within this building one may view the identical instruments of
torture so mercilessly used by the Spanish inquisitors in the name of
religion. It would not be difficult to photograph these diabolical
inventions, for many of them are quite free from the surrounding
objects, and not encased. In this collection we see also specimens of
antique furniture, and a variety of ornaments, coins, costumes, tapestry
curtains, ancient prints and engravings, and many other objects well
worthy of observation.
In Antwerp we have the opportunity of seeing some exquisite laces and
embroideries. A visit to one of the many establishments here cannot fail
to interest the stranger. At one of the shops we are conducted to a room
in which a dozen girls are at work upon a delicate piece of lace. They
have been engaged upon this masterpiece for about three months, and the
proprietor tells us that as much more time will be required to finish
it. The design is a huge web, in the centre of which is the sly spider
apparently watching the victims who have strayed beyond the line of
safety. A number of handsome and rare specimens of this valuable
handwork are exhibited in the shop window, and one's desire to possess
them may be satisfied by a moderate expenditure of money.
Antwerp is the city of Rubens. We find his tomb in the beautiful church
of St. Jacques, rich in carvings and noble paintings, not far from the
fine altarpiece painted by his hand. He lies in the Rubens Chapel, and
here too are monuments of two of his descendants. The house in which the
illustrious artist died stands in a street named for him, and in the
Place Verte, formerly the churchyard of the Cathedral, stands a bronze
statue of Rubens, thirteen feet in height upon a pedestal twenty feet
high. At the feet of the master lie scrolls and books, also brushes,
palette and hat; allusions to the talented diplomatist and statesman, as
well as to the painter.
One need not feel alarmed as to his expenses in this charming old town,
for comfortable accommodations and good board may be enjoyed at less
than moderate rates. I love this dear city, not only for its magnificent
Cathedral, its rare paintings, its picturesque surroundings; but also
for the remarkable hospitality of its people, their genial manner, their
smiling faces. Their candor and honesty win the admiration and the heart
of the tourist, and the stranger is quickly at home, and able to enjoy
most fully the many attractions which the place affords.
[Illustration: "The place is intersected everywhere by canals." (_See
page 113._)]
But the time has come to bid it adieu; we take the train and in two
hours find ourselves in the ever quaint and picturesque town of
Rotterdam, fitly named the "City of Windmills."
Comfortable quarters may be found here at the Maas Hotel. Rotterdam,
whose population is something over two hundred thousand, is the second
city in commercial importance in Holland. Among its numerous attractions
are art galleries, parks, gardens, the markets, bridges and canals,
without mentioning the many windmills which wave their arms in blessing
over the city. The place is intersected everywhere by canals, all deep
enough for the passage of heavily laden ships, and with such names as
the Oude Haven, Scheepmakershaven, Leuvehaven, Nieuwe Haven, Wynhaven,
Blaak, and Haringvliet.
Our hotel is situated upon the bank of the Maas River, and our windows
overlook this body of water, which is in reality a highway. Instead of
wagons drawn by strong muscular horses, however, barges, schooners, sail
boats, and every kind of small craft, overflowing with fruits,
vegetables and other produce, traverse the river as well as the canals.
Looking over these watery roads, the mind is confused by the hundreds of
boats which seem inextricably mingled in one great mass, and appear to
form a blockade as far as the eye can reach. Rotterdam might fitly add
to its title of "City of Windmills," that of the "City of Canals."
Houses, stores and other buildings are built directly upon the banks,
and in fact, the foundations of these form the sides of the canals. In
many cases the balconies of residences overhang the water, and passages
are made beneath, by means of which produce, freight and other articles
are conveyed to and from the buildings by boats, much as the wagons
deliver goods in our cities from the streets to the houses.
All these novel sights impress the visitor with the great difference
between the manners and customs of this nation and our own; the result
of the peculiar environment of the two countries. A stroll about the
city affords abundant opportunity for interesting observations. Here one
sees hundreds of Dutch women in their costly headgear of gold and
silver, heirlooms of many generations. These head ornaments sometimes
cover the entire scalp, and have curious filigree additions extending
over the ears and temples. The head is first covered with a scrupulously
clean and beautiful lace cap, upon which the gold or silver ornament is
placed. These heirlooms are valued beyond all price, and I have handled
some which are two hundred years old, and which are held as sacred
charges to be transmitted to posterity.