When we left the cathedral, we stood for a while contemplating the grand tower, from the top of which on a clear day can be seen Malines, Brussels, Bruges, and Ghent. The tower is a mass of the most elaborate tracery, and the filigree carving is so delicate, Charles V. said it should be put under glass, and Napoleon compared it to Malines lace. There is a delicious carillon or chime of ninety-nine bells, which ring every ten minutes, and are played by machinery, put up in 1540; the great bell, named Charles after its godfather, Charles V., requires sixteen men to ring it; consequently, it is only used on great festivals; and as this was the Grande Kermesse of Antwerp, we heard it.
Near by the cathedral is the fountain cast in iron by Quentin Matsys, one of the great Flemish painters, when he was a blacksmith. The story is he fell in love with the daughter of an artist, who would not consent to the marriage until the blacksmith should also become an artist. So Quentin Matsys left the forge for the pencil, and became one of the glories of his country. His tomb is in the cathedral, his statue ornaments one of the great Places, and his memory is ardently cherished by his native city.
We were in front of the Hôtel de Ville, a gloomy looking building, built by the Duke of Alva in the gloomiest Spanish style, and saw the procession pass. It was very fine; the banners of Antwerp are unequalled in the northern part of Europe; they were the glories of the procession. The statue of the Blessed Virgin was gorgeously dressed in a mass of gold, lace, and precious stones. The banners were sufficiently splendid in the beginning, but as the canopy over the Blessed Sacrament appeared, they became more and more dazzling, perfectly resplendent in the bright sun. The golden lamps borne around the canopy added to the gorgeousness, the vestments of the clergy corresponded; and as every one in the procession carried a light, it was like a stream of fire quivering along the Place. Files of soldiers made the outer line, and splendid military bands played at intervals.
One of the events of this Grande Kermesse was the unveiling of the statue of Teniers, another great Flemish painter. Antwerp is justly proud of her artist sons, and in her Places can be seen the statues of Rubens, Vandyck, Quentin Matsys, and Teniers—children whom the mother delights to honor; but greatest of all her glories is the grand Cathedral of Notre Dame, which speaks for the faith of the past that could raise such a glorious monument to the living God.
LITTLE LOVE.
BY THE AUTHOR OF “THE HOUSE OF YORKE.”
“Of such is the kingdom of heaven.”
The first evening-bell of the N—— State Prison had rung, and the deputy-warden stood in the guard-room taking the ward keys from their nail, and looking at his revolver. A guard watched from each of the windows toward the yard, and at one of the narrow loopholes beside the door stood a little figure on tiptoe peeping out, only half her face reaching above the wood-work.
This was Minnie Raynor, the warden’s daughter—a child so happy and so beautiful, that lips unused to fanciful talk called her fanciful names; a child so sweet, too, that tender looks and thoughts ever followed her. Rough men patted her nestling cheek, and called her “darling”; to her father, she was “my angel”; but her mother went to the heart of the matter, and called her “Little Love.”
The deputy went toward the door near which she stood. “O Minnie! is it you?” he asked; “or is it a ray of sunshine that has come in at the window?”
She laughed as she settled down from tiptoe, and turned her head; and the level sunshine steeped her through—dimpled, delicate face, luminous brown eyes, flaxen hair, and all her baby whiteness.