little travels and roadside sketches-第3章

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books〃　in　their　hands；　are　looking　at　the　〃Descent　from　the　Cross。〃

Of　this　picture　the　〃Guide…book〃　gives　you　orders　how　to　judge。　　If

it　is　the　end　of　religious　painting　to　express　the　religious

sentiment；　a　hundred　of　inferior　pictures　must　rank　before　Rubens。

Who　was　ever　piously　affected　by　any　picture　of　the　master？　　He　can

depict　a　livid　thief　writhing　upon　the　cross；　sometimes　a　blond

Magdalen　weeping　below　it；　but　it　is　a　Magdalen　a　very　short　time

indeed　after　her　repentance：　her　yellow　brocades　and　flaring　satins

are　still　those　which　she　wore　when　she　was　of　the　world；　her　body

has　not　yet　lost　the　marks　of　the　feasting　and　voluptuousness　in

which　she　used　to　indulge；　according　to　the　legend。　　Not　one　of　the

Rubens's　pictures　among　all　the　scores　that　decorate　chapels　and

churches　here；　has　the　least　tendency　to　purify；　to　touch　the

affections；　or　to　awaken　the　feelings　of　religious　respect　and

wonder。　　The　〃Descent　from　the　Cross〃　is　vast；　gloomy；　and　awful；

but　the　awe　inspired　by　it　is；　as　I　take　it；　altogether　material。

He　might　have　painted　a　picture　of　any　criminal　broken　on　the

wheel；　and　the　sensation　inspired　by　it　would　have　been　precisely

similar。　　Nor　in　a　religious　picture　do　you　want　the　savoir…faire

of　the　master　to　be　always　protruding　itself；　it　detracts　from　the

feeling　of　reverence；　just　as　the　thumping　of　cushion　and　the

spouting　of　tawdry　oratory　does　from　a　sermon：　meek　religion

disappears；　shouldered　out　of　the　desk　by　the　pompous；　stalwart；

big…chested；　fresh…colored；　bushy…whiskered　pulpiteer。　　Rubens's

piety　has　always　struck　us　as　of　this　sort。　　If　he　takes　a　pious

subject；　it　is　to　show　you　in　what　a　fine　way　he；　Peter　Paul

Rubens；　can　treat　it。　　He　never　seems　to　doubt　but　that　he　is　doing

it　a　great　honor。　　His　〃Descent　from　the　Cross；〃　and　its

accompanying　wings　and　cover；　are　a　set　of　puns　upon　the　word

Christopher；　of　which　the　taste　is　more　odious　than　that　of　the

hooped…petticoated　Virgin　yonder；　with　her　artificial　flowers；　and

her　rings　and　brooches。　　The　people　who　made　an　offering　of　that

hooped　petticoat　did　their　best；　at　any　rate；　they　knew　no　better。

There　is　humility　in　that　simple；　quaint　present；　trustfulness　and

kind　intention。　　Looking　about　at　other　altars；　you　see　（much　to

the　horror　of　pious　Protestants）　all　sorts　of　queer　little　emblems

hanging　up　under　little　pyramids　of　penny　candles　that　are

sputtering　and　flaring　there。　　Here　you　have　a　silver　arm；　or　a

little　gold　toe；　or　a　wax　leg；　or　a　gilt　eye；　signifying　and

commemorating　cures　that　have　been　performed　by　the　supposed

intercession　of　the　saint　over　whose　chapel　they　hang。　　Well；

although　they　are　abominable　superstitions；　yet　these　queer　little

offerings　seem　to　me　to　be　a　great　deal　more　pious　than　Rubens's

big　pictures；　just　as　is　the　widow　with　her　poor　little　mite

compared　to　the　swelling　Pharisee　who　flings　his　purse　of　gold　into

the　plate。



A　couple　of　days　of　Rubens　and　his　church　pictures　makes　one

thoroughly　and　entirely　sick　of　him。　　His　very　genius　and　splendor

pails　upon　one；　even　taking　the　pictures　as　worldly　pictures。　　One

grows　weary　of　being　perpetually　feasted　with　this　rich；　coarse；

steaming　food。　　Considering　them　as　church　pictures；　I　don't　want

to　go　to　church　to　hear；　however　splendid；　an　organ　play　the

〃British　Grenadiers。〃





The　Antwerpians　have　set　up　a　clumsy　bronze　statue　of　their

divinity　in　a　square　of　the　town；　and　those　who　have　not　enough　of

Rubens　in　the　churches　may　study　him；　and　indeed　to　much　greater

advantage；　in　a　good；　well…lighted　museum。　　Here；　there　is　one

picture；　a　dying　saint　taking　the　communion；　a　large　piece　ten　or

eleven　feet　high；　and　painted　in　an　incredibly　short　space　of　time；

which　is　extremely　curious　indeed　for　the　painter's　study。　　The

picture　is　scarcely　more　than　an　immense　magnificent　sketch；　but　it

tells　the　secret　of　the　artist's　manner；　which；　in　the　midst　of　its

dash　and　splendor；　is　curiously　methodical。　　Where　the　shadows　are

warm　the　lights　are　cold；　and　vice　versa；　and　the　picture　has　been

so　rapidly　painted；　that　the　tints　lie　raw　by　the　side　of　one

another；　the　artist　not　having　taken　the　trouble　to　blend　them。



There　are　two　exquisite　Vandykes　（whatever　Sir　Joshua　may　say　of

them）；　and　in　which　the　very　management　of　the　gray　tones　which　the

President　abuses　forms　the　principal　excellence　and　charm。　　Why；

after　all；　are　we　not　to　have　our　opinion？　　Sir　Joshua　is　not　the

Pope。　　The　color　of　one　of　those　Vandykes　is　as　fine　as　FINE　Paul

Veronese；　and　the　sentiment　beautifully　tender　and　graceful。



I　saw；　too；　an　exhibition　of　the　modern　Belgian　artists　（1843）；　the

remembrance　of　whose　pictures　after　a　month's　absence　has　almost

entirely　vanished。　　Wappers's　hand；　as　I　thought；　seemed　to　have

grown　old　and　feeble；　Verboeckhoven's　cattle…pieces　are　almost　as

good　as　Paul　Potter's；　and　Keyser　has　dwindled　down　into　namby…

pamby　prettiness；　pitiful　to　see　in　the　gallant　young　painter　who

astonished　the　Louvre　artists　ten　years　ago　by　a　hand　almost　as

dashing　and　ready　as　that　of　Rubens　himself。　　There　were　besides

many　caricatures　of　the　new　German　school；　which　are　in　themselves

caricatures　of　the　masters　before　Raphael。





An　instance　of　honesty　may　be　mentioned　here　with　applause。　　The

writer　lost　a　pocket…book　containing　a　passport　and　a　couple　of

modest　ten…pound　notes。　　The　person　who　found　the　portfolio

ingeniously　put　it　into　the　box　of　the　post…office；　and　it　was

faithfully　restored　to　the　owner；　but　somehow　the　two　ten…pound

notes　were　absent。　　It　was；　however；　a　great　comfort　to　get　the

passport；　and　the　pocket…book；　which　must　be　worth　about　ninepence。





BRUSSELS。



It　was　night　when　we　arrived　by　the　railroad　from　Antwerp　at

Brussels；　the　route　is　very　pretty　and　interesting；　and　the　flat

countries　through　which　the　road　passes　in　the　highest　state　of

peaceful；　smiling　cultivation。　　The　fields　by　the　roadside　are

enclosed　by　hedges　as　in　England；　the　harvest　was　in　part　down；　and

an　English　country　gentleman　who　was　of　our　party　pronounced　the

crops　to　be　as　fine　as　any　he　had　ever　seen。　　Of　this　matter　a

Cockney　cannot　judge　accurately；　but　any　man　can　see　with　what

extraordinary　neatness　and　care　all　these　little　plots　of　ground

are　tilled；　and　admire　the　richness　and　brilliancy　of　the

vegetation。　　Outside　of　the　moat　of　Antwerp；　and　at　every　village

by　which　we　passed；　it　was　pleasant　to　see　the　happy　congregations

of　well…clad　people　that　basked　in　the　evening　sunshine；　and

soberly　smoked　their　pipes　and　drank　their　Flemish　beer。　　Men　who

love　this　drink　must；　as　I　fancy；　have　something　essentially

peaceful　in　their　composition；　and　must　be　more　easily　satisfied

than　folks　on　our　side　of　the　water。　　The　excitement　of　Flemish

beer　is；　indeed；　not　great。　　I　have　tried　both　the　white　beer　and

the　brown；　they　are　both　of　the　kind　which　schoolboys　denominate

〃swipes；〃　very　sour　and　thin　to　the　taste；　but　served；　to　be　sure；

in　quaint　Flemish　jugs　that　do　not　seem　to　have　changed　their　form

since　the　days　of　Rubens；　and　must　please　the　lovers　of　antiquarian

knick…knacks。　　Numbers　of　comfortable…looking　women　and　children

sat　beside　the　head　of　the　family　upon　the　tavern…benches；　and　it

was　amusing　to　see　one　little　fellow　of　eight　years　old　smoking；

with　much　gravity；　his　father's　cigar。　　How　the　worship　of　the

sacred　plant　of　tobacco　has　spread　through　all　Europe！　　I　am　sure

that　the　persons　who　cry　out　against　the　use　of　it　are　guilty　of

superstition　and　unreason；　and　that　it　would　be　a　proper　and　easy

task　for　scientific　persons　to　write　an　encomium　upon　the　weed。　　In

solitude　it　is　the　pleasantest　companion　possible；　and　in　company

never　de　trop。　　To　a　student　it　suggests　all　sorts　of　agreeable

thoughts；　it　refreshes　the　brain　when　weary；　and　every　sedentary

cigar…smoker　will　tell　you　how　much　good　he　has　had　from　it；　and

how　he　has　been　able　to　return　to　his　labor；　after　a　quarter　of　an

hour's　mild　interval　of　the　delightful　leaf　of　Havana。　　Drinking

has　gone　from　among　us　since　smoking　came　in。　　It　is　a　wicked　error

to　say　that　smokers　are　drunkards；　drink　they　do；　but　of　gentle

diluents　mostly；　for　fierce　stimulants　of　wine　or　strong　liquors

are　abhorrent　to　the　real　lover　of　the　Indian　weed。　　Ah！　my

Juliana；　join　not　in　the　vulgar　cry　that　is　raised　against　us。

Cigars　and　cool　drinks　beget　quiet　conversations；　good…humor；

meditation；　not　hot　blood　such　as　mounts　into　the　head　of　drinkers

of　apoplectic　port　or　dangerous　claret。　　Are　we　not　more　moral　and

reasonable　than　our　forefathers？　　Indeed　I　think　so　somewhat；　and

many　improvements　of　social　life　and　converse　must　date　with　the

introduction　of　the　pipe。



We　were　a　dozen　tobacco…consumers　in　the　wagon　of　the　train　that

brought　us　from　Antwerp；　nor　did　the　women　of　the　party　（sensible

women！）　make　a　single　objection　to　the　fumigation。　　But　enough　of

this；　only　let　me　add；　in　conclusion；　that　an　excellent　Israelitish

gentleman；　Mr。　Hartog　of　Antwerp；　supplies　cigars　for　a　penny

apiece；　such　as　are　not　to　be　procured　in　London　for　four　times

the　sum。



Through　smiling　corn…fields；　then；　and　by　little　woods　from　which

rose　here　and　there　the　quaint　peaked　towers　of　some　old…fashioned

chateaux；　our　train　went　smoking　along　at　thirty　miles　an　hour。　　We

caught　a　glimpse　of　Mechlin　steeple；　at　first　dark　against　the

sunset；　and　afterwards　bright　as　we　came　to　the　other　side　of　it；

and　admired　long　glistening　canals　or　moats　that　surrounded　the

queer　old　town；　and　were　lighted　up　in　that　wonderful　way　which　the

sun　only　understands；　and　not　even　Mr。　Turner；　with　all　his

vermilion　and　gamboge；　can　put　down　on　canvas。　　The　verdure　was

everywhere　astonishing；　and　we　fancied　we　saw　many　golden　Cuyps　as

we　passed　by　these　quiet　pastures。



Steam…engines　and　their　accompaniments；　blazing　forges；　gaunt

manufactories；　with　numberless　windows　and　long　black　chimneys；　of

course　take　away　from　the　romance　of　the　place　but；　as　we　whirled

into　Brussels；　even　these　engines　had　a　fine　appearance。　　Three　or

four　of　the　snorting；　galloping　monsters　had　just　finished　their

journey；　and　there　was　a　quantity　of　flaming　ashes　lying　under　the

brazen　bellies　of　each　that　looked　properly　lurid　and　demoniacal。

The　men　at　the　station　came　out　with　flaming　torchesawful…looking

fellows　indeed！　　Presently　the　different　baggage　was　handed　out；

and　in　the　very　worst　vehicle　I　ever　entered；　and　at　the　very

slowest　pace；　we　were　borne　to　the　〃Hotel　de　Suede；〃　from　which

house　of　entertainment　this　letter　is　written。



We　strolled　into　the　town；　but；　though　the　night　was　excessively

fine　and　it　was　not　yet　eleven　o'clock；　the　streets　of　the　little

capital　were　deserted；　and　the　handsome　blazing　cafes　round　about

the　theatres　contained　no　inmates。　　Ah；　what　a　pretty　sight　is　the

Parisian　B