FOURTH STATION.
From Basle to Brussels—That which took me there—Le Congrès International de Bienfaisance—The New Exposition—Conversation with King Leopold—“The Little Sisters of the Poor”—Festivals and Ideas of the Future in Belgium—Ghent and the Beguines—Lace Making—Bruges—Flanders—A House in the Country—Ruysselede and Bernhem—Antwerp—Rubens' House—A Glance at Holland—A Statesman—Journey to Paris.
The golden September sun shone gloriously over the fertile plain of the Rhinelands, and golden harvests and wealthy towns lay basking in its beams and as I flew upon the wings of steam, over land and water, from Basle to Brussels. For I wished to be at Brussels on the 14th of September, to be present at the opening of the International Congress de Bienfaisance on the day following. I had been invited to this peculiar congress, the first of its kind, by a letter from its prime mover and conductor, Edward Duepeteaux, Director-General of prisons and benevolent institutions in Belgium. This invitation had reached me, indeed, before I left Sweden, and I then determined to obey the call. I had never received a more agreeable, and more valuable invitation. I should thus, in Brussels, hear, from deputies sent from the Christian kingdoms of every part of the world, what was doing, and had already been done for the prevention of crime and the alleviation of distress, hear them consulting together as to what ought to be done in the future for this purpose. No wonder, therefore, that the impulse of my mind emulated the power of steam, in attracting me to Brussels.
I arrived there punctually on the afternoon of the 14th. On the same evening I saw Edward Duepetiaux, a man who in manner and expression of countenance possesses the peculiar combination of energy and gentleness, of the lion and the lamb, which I have seen only in one other man—our great Geijer. From the first moment I felt confidence in him as a brother. We met for the first time as though we had known each other all our days.
On the 15th of September, the Congress de Bienfaisance was opened, the first Congress on earth in which human love and science stood, before all nations, hand in hand for the same openly declared object—the best interests of the poor, with especial reference to their earthly life; and which, therefore, deserved the foremost place in the annals of the human race. Because, whilst it may be important for the regulation of outward, temporal affairs, to divide and arrange realms and peoples under certain princes and rulers, all this signifies but little or nothing to the inner development, to the well-being of the community.
The sittings of the Congress continued nearly a week, during which time, you heard—England and France, Germany, Italy, Switzerland, Holland, the Scandinavian Kingdoms, the United States, Brazil, Algeria, and Poland, state their various experiments, and explain their various institutions for the elevation of the working classes, and the improvement of their condition.
A Congress very similar to this had, the preceding year, been held in Paris, to inquire into the same class of subjects, though principally in connection with the moral means of influence, as education, literature, benevolent societies, and such like. The Congress of the Brussels people had boldly confined itself to the material means. It occupied itself with the dwellings of the poorer classes, their clothing, food, prospects of worldly success, as well at the present time, as for the future; but above all, with the establishment of such an order of things as should enable every man and every woman, by good conduct, industry, and forethought, to enjoy and secure worldly prosperity for themselves and their families. The chief activity of the Congress was evidently employed in this direction, although, as it seemed to me, not with full consciousness.[1] Soup-kitchens, hospitals, and such institutions, fell into the background; whilst in the foreground, newer and more thoroughly comprehensive labors for the health of towns, for the improvement of the dwellings and workshops of the poor; Savings' Banks, and Societies, the members of which could provide and insure for themselves, an improvement in circumstances with others, which plans belonged to health and an ameliorated worldly condition.
In the first chapter England stood foremost; in the second, it seemed to me that France, and especially Alsace, set a great and beautiful example. Most highly interesting to me, were the accounts of the working towns round Mulhausen, as well as the institutions established by many great manufacturers for their working people. Among these, one in Lisle was remarkable. The so-called “Associations Alimentaires,” which, commencing in Grenoble in France, have spread themselves through the towns, both of Switzerland and Holland, seem to be in the highest degree important, as well for the wholesome nourishment with which it supplies the poor, as in teaching them the advantage of union amongst men. Little Holland seemed to me rich in such seed for the future, whilst Italy boasted principally of her establishments for the care of the poor. Nor was Poland behindhand in labors for the good of the people, and proved—like her latest, noble poet—that the politically unenfranchised people, may yet, if they will, take a noble place in the development of the moral freedom of humanity.
The highest importance of a Congress like the present, ought to be the initiative which it gives to these great questions of human improvement amongst all nations, and the greater enlightenment and more perfectly organized activity which it must lead to, especially if, as Mr. Duepetiaux asserts, they will be of more frequent occurrence in different parts of Europe. And when, conformably with the resolution of this Congress, committees shall be established in all countries, the object of which will be these especial topics, and which will keep up a constant interchange of communication upon them from land to land, then, surely, popular progress in the right direction will be easy and sure.
In this Congress of representatives from so many various peoples, there was no lack of distinguished individuals, who represented nations as well as ideas. Englishmen, Frenchmen, Germans, Dutch and Brazilians, were in this respect interesting. The most remarkable for his beautiful individuality, was the Italian, Count Arrivabene, member of the Council of the Congress, and whose influence was especially valuable in the proceedings of the Congress. For this assembly, of about three hundred persons, was very vivacious; and conflicting opinions, misunderstandings, fermentations, and outbreaks, occurred not unfrequently, which the fatherly interference of the worthy president could not always pacify. On such occasions the Italian nobleman, whose dark eye shone brightly beneath locks growing gray, and whose furrowed cheek still preserved the glad glow of youth, stepped forth with peculiar delicacy and tact, and proposed a word, or some middle course in which the opponents could unite, or else gave some explanation which prevented the combat of words from becoming like a cockpit. Sometimes the contest between the hot-headed opponents assumed such a threatening character, that a challenge, a duel, bloodshed, and tragical ending was feared. But no! In the hour of need, Count Arrivabene stepped in with the right word or the right measure, which pacified the combatants, and his handsome person and refined manners contributed, in no small degree, to give weight to his talent for reconciliation. A Count Arrivabene ought to be found in every assembly of council. The assembly here was nevertheless composed of “gentlemen.” This was proved by the fact, that a vote of thanks to the ladies, who were present at this assembly, was moved by the chivalric young representative from England. These ladies were few in number, but evidently deeply interested by the business of the meeting. I was the only lady-member of the Congress, and as some of the gentlemen of the council wished me to say something, I prepared a written address, recommending that a better education should be given to the daughters of the lower class, than had hitherto been the case. This was read by Mr. Vickier, one of the members of the Council,—well read, and attentively listened to also.
At the same time and for the same purpose as the Congress, an Exhibition was made in Brussels, of every article most necessary for the use and advantage of human life. They were here collected from many different countries, alike with reference to excellence of workmanship, and cheapness of price. From the completely-furnished dwelling of the artisan, to the smallest article which could be either useful or agreeable to its inmates, nothing was wanting. Every necessary for the kitchen, the workshop, the nursery the sitting room, were abundantly supplied. The fine arts had contributed their share. The home of the artisan might enjoy the delights of music at a reasonable cost. Appliances were also provided for the cultivation and beautifying of the garden in one section of the Exhibition, devoted alone to every species of garden tools. For the Catholic Belgium is, as in many other respects, united to its sundered sister-state, the Protestant Holland, by its love of flowers, and the cultivation of gardens. Industry, art, and science, vied with each other in the production of whatever could ennoble the condition of the poor working man, and elevate his earthly life.
A similar display had been made at the Great Exhibition in Paris in 1855, but then merely as an adjunct to it, and in a building apart from the halls of the splendid Exhibition. Now the whole circumstances were changed. The building, separate from and inferior to the rest, had now taken the foremost place. Cinderella had become the princess. And now from all parts came hastening hither by railway, people of the working-class, to behold the new spectacle. In one day alone, it was visited by ten thousand working-people. The greater number of articles there exhibited were sold before the Exhibition was closed.
One circumstance I must mention. Amongst all the representatives from so many different countries to this Congress for the outward well-being of the poor, I did not see a single minister of the gospel. Catholic and Protestant had here assembled for one common, great, human object, and so doing appeared to forget that any thing separated them from each other; but amongst all these Catholics and Protestants which a common love united, I did not see one of those who, in an especial manner, call themselves the servants of Christ and the gospel. They find time nevertheless to journey to all kinds of meetings which call themselves clerical and evangelical. Why do they thus altogether ignore this, as if it were not worthy of the attention of the church?
Is it not because the church—as well the Protestant as the Catholic—have an imperfect comprehension of the object, both of the gospel and the church—the kingdom of God? That it regards this principally as a condition of the individual soul, as a condition on the other side of the grave, not as that which is founded already upon the earth, a kingdom of justice, freedom, and peace, goodness and happiness for all peoples, and for which all the powers and gifts of life must unite to labor.
Happiness! I repeat and emphasize the word, in the name of the Divine Teacher, who, by word and deed, testified of God's will that all the pure fountains of earth's joy should pour forth for all men; who blessed its bread and its wine, not merely for the soul's but for the body's enjoyment and benefit. For His kingdom embraces all mankind!
But until the church comprehends this in its great significance, it must not wonder that millions of intelligent, thinking, human beings will not listen to its preaching, and that they sometimes fancy they hear a more Christian, a more evangelical doctrine in socialistic, nay, even in communistic teaching. It is only the right understanding of the true evangelical communion which can overcome the erroneous doctrines of communism.
At the Philanthropic Congress of Brussels, it was only laymen—physicians, men of science, the followers of industrial pursuits, and statesmen—who came forward as servants of the gospel, promoters of the kingdom of God! I would have wished to have seen there bishops and priests, nay, even the Pope himself. And why not: if they would be faithful to the traditions of the Christian church? At the commencement of the new community, it was the pious clergy who taught the people to cultivate the earth and to ennoble all the gifts of life. But that labor has now become considerably more difficult, and demands new studies.
One day, towards the end of the Congress, I received a written communication, purporting that King Leopold wished to make my acquaintance. I declared my readiness to obey the king's commands, and requested that his majesty would name the day and hour, which was done, and at two o'clock the following day I betook myself to the royal palace, glad to become better acquainted with a monarch who lived in profound peace with his subjects, whilst revolution shook lands and thrones around him. Besides which, King Leopold had long excited a pleasant interest in my home, where my good mother had conceived an especial affection for this prince, as well as for Queen Victoria's husband, and always liked to hear them spoken of, on which account her daughter used sometimes to teaze her a little about her “royal flames.” I thought of her as I was conducted by a chamberlain into a large, light apartment, where the king came to meet me. He took my hand with friendly politeness, said that he had read all my writings, and conducted me to an arm-chair, where he bade me be seated, he himself taking a seat just opposite.
I saw in King Leopold a tall, elderly gentleman, with the bearing of a general and the manners of a gentleman, with regular features, refined and sensible expression. His majesty began the conversation by inquiries about my stay in Belgium, and my impressions of that country, but soon struck off into a statement of his system of government, which he himself characterized as that “of good sense.” He considered it the highest duty of the ruler to require strict integrity in the ruling powers, as well as in all the organs of government. He was a friend of the “laisser faire” the “laisser aller” being convinced that a free, well-governed people can best manage its own affairs; nevertheless the ruler ought to give them also that close attention, which would enable him at any critical moment, to step in with a direct and paternal interference, even in opposition to the generally accepted principles of the “laisser aller” system. The king gave an example of this, when by his foresight and direct extraordinary intervention, he preserved the manufacturing world of Belgium from an extremely dangerous crisis. I could not but regard his majesty's principles as in this respect in the highest degree correct and excellent, that is to say, when the ruler is possessed of a great amount of “good sense,” as well as of fatherly benevolence towards his people. But when King Leopold finally summed up the impelling motives to a life of truth and justice, to be this: “the hope of reward in heaven,” I said what I thought, that it was better not to reason in this way; that virtue was depreciated by any consideration of reward; and in this I was right. The king smiled archly, and said good-humoredly, such reasoning was “quite too strict,” and in this he was right, that is to say, if the reward be accepted in its highest sense. “You shall be where I am; you shall see my glory,” says our Great Master and Teacher to his dearest disciples, in the hour of separation, as the highest consolation and the highest reward for their trouble and labor on earth. And must not also the poorest, the most unselfish of all the sons of earth live thankfully in the prospect of this highest reward; a life with the Lord and the beholding of His glory a perfected and blessed world!——
I do not know whether King Leopold comprehended this reward in heaven in its highest significance; whether he comprehended the life of the state and of the human being according to its highest ideal; but it did not seem to me so. And where indeed is the ruler of the present day who is capable of it? To him I would bend the knee, even if he sat on the throne of Russia! It is, however, certain that the present King of Belgium is a ruler of integrity, tact and fatherly benevolence, who may be regarded by all people as a blessing, if not, in every respect, as an example.
The king, during this conversation of about three hours, which was carried on partly in French, partly in English, which he speaks with equal facility, endeavored to make me clearly understand the principles of his system of government, which I regard as a great honor to me. He recommended me to make myself acquainted with the Belgian towns, so remarkable for their strongly-marked individuality of character. He listened with kindness and attention to what I had to say. This king evidently has a quick ear, as well as a great deal of tact—important gifts these in ruler.
The people of Belgium have shown at this time, that they know how to value their king. A great number of brilliant festivals have lately been held in all the cities of the realm, to celebrate the twenty-fifth year of his reign. One of the most beautiful and most important of these, was given a few days since, in Brussels. On the spot where it was held, the foundations are now being laid of an immense monument, in which four symbolic figures, representing Popular Freedom, Freedom of Conscience, Freedom of Law, and Freedom of Trade, are to be grouped round the statue of King Leopold. A throne defended by these liberties, is a great thought, peculiar to the present age.
During my stay at Brussels, all kinds of festivals and meetings of many kinds were going on, partly in connection with the royal jubilee, and partly with the Philanthropic Congress and the Exhibition. Again and again you heard the gay and lively national melody “la Brabançonne” which generally announced the arrival of the Duke of Brabant, King Leopold's eldest son, for he himself was very seldom present. But people were very glad to see his youthful son, whose ingenuous manners, and handsome and agreeable countenance, produced, when he spoke or smiled, a pleasant impression. The young duchess, his wife, is a pretty blonde, very fair, with a full figure and an expression of life-enjoyment. The younger of the king's sons was absent on a hunting party.
Brussels sits like a holiday-attired princess, proud and elegant, on the table-land of Brabant, gazing out freely, on all sides, over flourishing, fertile fields. The new portion of the city, with its royal palace, its beautiful park and tree-planted boulevards, broad streets, large market-place, handsome, well-built houses, produced the most cheerful effect. Cleanliness and elegance prevail everywhere. Wealth and elegance are united with a certain character of permanence and strength. We are in the head-quarters of Brussels lace. But, nevertheless, one dark trait pervades it—the pale, ragged, begging children! Why should this exist in a city, and in a nation which has so lately rejoiced exultantly in being one of the best-governed in the world? It is asserted that the burgomaster of Brussels favors beggary, as a privilege of a Catholic country! In the old city one admires the proud buildings of the ancient time, the Stadthouse, the Cathedral, the house of Egmont, in the market-place, where he and Horn were beheaded. These, and many private houses, are built in a peculiar and old-fashioned style, yet they scarcely appear old, because they are kept in such careful repair. The memory of the cruelty of Philip and of Alba, and of the tragical deaths of their victims, give a gloomy interest to this portion of the city. But one thinks with joy at the same time, that the murderous powers of Spain and of the Inquisition are at an end.
Und seine Albas sind nicht mehr![2]
Little Netherland has, in its fight for freedom, destroyed their dominion, and although one portion, Belgium, still continues faithful to the Catholic church, yet has this portion maintained the most precious of its liberties, which her sister-state of Holland also acquired by a long and bloody war.
I will now say a few words about a sight in
Brussels, which delighted me more than all its palaces and
parks. I saw, one day, above a hundred old people
of both sexes, the men on their side, the women on
theirs, in a handsome and spacious building, cared
for and waited upon by nice-looking young girls, like
aged parents by their daughters. These young girls
belong to an order which was established a few years
ago, and which, at this moment, is greatly on the
increase; it is called “les petites sœurs des pauvres.”
In a little seaport town of France, lived, some years ago, a good clergyman, who had deep sympathy with old seamen, and the widows of such, who, feeble and decrepit, obtained a wretched livelihood by begging, and so doing, fell into still deeper misery, both of soul and body. He communicated his feelings to two young girls, who, both orphans, maintained themselves by the labor of their hands, and prevailed upon them to adopt these poor, neglected, old people—first one, then two, then several, of the most forlorn. The blessing of God rested upon their work. The old people rewarded their young benefactors by a renewed life, us it were, both of soul and body, as well as by the most heart-felt gratitude. A larger room was obliged to be hired for the old people, who placed themselves under the protection of the young.
The next step which the good pastor induced his young disciples to take was, to go out themselves to beg for the old, from the fear that if these returned to their former life of beggary, they might relapse into their former life of sin. This step was the most difficult of all to the young. But they took even this courageously, when they were convinced of its necessity, to complete the good work. They went, with a basket on their arms, from door to door. They had to encounter, at first, derision, hard language, and petty ridicule; but when they endured all with great patience, and continued to persevere in the spirit of self-sacrificing love, the derision was changed into admiration, and the hard language into gifts, and a more and more liberal feeling towards the object of their labors.
The good clergyman now began to extend the sphere of these labors. The number of “the little sisters” had, in the mean time, considerably increased, and he now sent them into various of the French towns,—Rouen, Toulon, Lyons, Paris. They went by twos or fours, and always began by hiring a couple of poor rooms, and purchasing some bedding. They then went out into the streets and lanes, and gathered together the most miserable and neglected old people; after which, they went forth to beg for them. In almost every case, their experience was the same,—first derision, scorn, and opprobrium, then attention, admiration, and the most cheerful assistance. The huckster women in the markets considered it as a right that “the little sisters,” who were out collecting, should come to their stands, and if they passed without so doing, felt themselves ill-used. In many large houses and hotels, “the little sisters” were ordered to call on certain days in the week, to receive such provision as had been put aside for their old protegés. And the number of these, and the excellent places for their reception, increased everywhere; so also did the numbers of the “little sisters.” And there was need. The first had already broken down under the diseases which they had contracted in their life of fatigue and self-sacrifice. And the lives of “the little sisters” had unremitting and great trials, but neither money, nor rank, nor family circumstances, were required to give consequence to the order of “The Little Sisters of the Poor.” All that was wanted, was merely warm hearts, pious minds, willing hands, and good health. Many, therefore, came out of the homes of the poor themselves, from the crowded work-rooms of the needle-women, from the slippery saloons of the ballet, and from scenes more dangerous still, and became “little sisters of the poor,” and themselves began a new life, by assisting the aged to close their lives well. Young girls even came from the higher grades of society, to unite themselves to these other youthful servants of their Lord.
It is now two years since “the little sisters” first made their appearance in Brussels. They followed their usual system: provided, in the first place, a room for the old, and after that, one for themselves. And great were their sufferings, during the first year, in a couple of small attics, where they were baked in summer, and frozen in the winter. The city authorities, together with several kind-hearted citizens, who knew the excellence and generally beneficial effect of their labors, were filled with compassion for them, purchased a large house and garden, and made a present of them to “the little sisters,” and their poor, old people. This they have now occupied for several months; the number of the aged inmates has increased to a hundred, and “the little sisters” to ten. Amongst these, there is now a young lady from one of the best families in Brussels. She had long hesitated about becoming one of “the little sisters,” from the fear of being elected a sœur guêteuse, (a begging sister,) for whose labors she felt a great repugnance. She was able, however, to withstand the inward impulse: she entered into the order of “the little sisterhood,” and became—that which she dreaded—nominated immediately as one of the begging sisters. Her pleasing appearance, her retiring and refined manners, peculiarly qualified her to excite general good-will, and now she went forth daily upon this, for her, difficult work. Soon, however, it ceased to be so very difficult. People knew her, and the object for which she appeared amongst them.
I had already been told all this by Madame Duepetiaux, when one day I saw from the window of my excellent hotel, “The Windsor,” a little low carriage, drawn by a donkey, standing before the door, with the words “petite sœurs des pauvres” printed upon the linen covering, which was stretched upon bows over the carriage. A young girl, dressed in a costume similar to that worn by the French Sisters of Charity, stepped lightly from the little vehicle, and entered the hotel. I hastened down, certain that she was precisely “the little sister” whose history I knew. I found her sitting silently, waiting by the door, in a large saloon. No one could imagine a more pleasing exterior, a more modest, or more attractive demeanor. Her call at the hotel that day was expected, and a subscription had been made there, preparatory to it. Her silent presence sufficed as prayer and admonition, and her little donkey went away, no doubt, heavily-laden for the aged.
The following day, I visited them in their new home, and during their hour of dinner. They were seated at a well-arranged table, clean in their own persons, and well-dressed. The meal consisted of substantial and savoury beef-soup, veal, and boiled rice; and each person had a good glass of beer. The little sisters waited upon them; and every thing was done with perfect order and quietness. I went round the old women's table, and asked various of them, how they were satisfied? “Tolerably,” replied some, with an air of condescension; several, that they were very well content: “that they had not any thing to complain about,” and so on. But when they spoke of the little sisters, their mode of expression became warmer and more heart-felt. The men seemed, upon the whole, to be more grateful. An old man is more forlorn in his loneliness than a woman in the same circumstances.
In the sick-room, which was remarkable for its order and excellent arrangement, I saw an old woman quietly expiring, whilst two little sisters, who reminded me of consoling angels, stood watchfully, the one at her head, the other at her feet.
The preceding day, they had celebrated the hundredth birthday of a good old woman, had decorated her arm-chair with flowers, and carried her with songs, round the garden. She had been honored like a beloved grandmother in a large family. Thus, do the amiable little sisters, “devote themselves to the forsaken old people.” They make them happy, and if possible—good. They have to encounter many disagreeables and difficulties, from the tempers, peculiarities, and bad habits of the old-folks. But they are able to overcome all by patience, piety, and good-humor. For this, youth and Christianity, are needed. The little sisters are possessed of these, and they, as well as the good work itself, are the talismen of their progress. May it go onward into eternity, and whilst it lifts the aged out of the filth of life, may it also prevent many of the young from sinking into it. For in this new, daughterly calling, they are consecrated as servants of the Lord; the greatest calling in the world, under whatever circumstances it may be carried out.
After a week spent at the Hotel Windsor, I removed to the beautiful home of the Duepetiaux's. And when the Congress, the Exhibition, and the festivals which these led to, were over, I set off in company with these amiable friends, to visit some of the remarkable towns and places of Belgium.
First of Ghent.
In Ghent, it was so rainy, that I could see nothing of the exterior of this celebrated old city, excepting the many bridges and canals, over which we drove. Of the interior, I saw the library, as well as various orphanages, or educational institutions for fatherless and motherless children, as well as poor girls. These are under the care of nuns; the girls are employed in lace-making, in which they acquire great skill. I had visited such institutions also in Brussels, and there, as in Ghent, had seen their costly labors; had seen small pocket-handkerchiefs, which cost each from five to seven hundred francs—and which seemed to me more suitable for the noses of angels than for those of human beings—small collars, which cost from two to three hundred, and so on. However wondrously beautiful this work may be, yet I cannot feel glad that this branch of industry is so universal amongst the female population of Belgium, and I believe that it is neither beneficial nor healthy in any respect. I received in Brussels, a well-written anonymous letter, which warned me not to judge of these lace-making, educational institutions, according to their outward seeming, assuring me that “the greater number of the young girls brought up in them, gave themselves up, on leaving them, to an immoral and dissolute way of life.” I have not much faith in anonymous letters, nor in those who write them; still it seems to me more than probable, that the long-continued sedentary employment of lace making, must be injurious to the development of the young girls, both of soul and body; and also that the Catholic mode of religious education, which holds the young in a perpetual custody, and destroys every sentiment of freedom and self responsibility, must, in many cases, lead to the abuse of their late-acquired freedom, and to that immorality, which, sad to say, is one of the distinguishing features of Belgium, and which threatens its future.
In the library of Ghent, I saw—besides the backs of about one hundred thousand volumes—a sight which always takes away my breath, as it were,—a very beautiful picture of Maria of Burgundy, representing her at the moment when she rushed down from her palace, into the market-place, and endeavored to save the lives of some of her councilors and friends. She arrived too late—at the very moment when their heads fell beneath the ax. The figure of the youthful princess is one of the most touching pathos and beauty. So is also her memory, “which,” says an historian, “came after that of her father, Charles the Bold, as the gentle spring after a severe and stormy winter.” She tasted abundantly of the hardness and bitterness of life, as she did also afterwards of its pleasantness in the bosom of affection, and under both circumstances she remained the same excellent, noble woman, beloved in all respects. And thus she died in the bloom of her age, after having given birth to a son, who was the father of the Emperor Charles V.
We paid a visit one day to “le Grand Bèguignage,” an institution founded five hundred years ago, by an illustrious lady, who afterwards received canonization, under the name of “St. Bèque,” and who was its first “Grande Dame.” Even to this day, the establishment is governed by a superintendent, who is called “la Grande Dame.” She was, at the present time, a lady of noble demeanor, of frank and agreeable manners. About three hundred unmarried ladies live in this institution. A vast number of separate houses are built together, like a castle-wall, around a very large court, which may be closed. Some beautiful trees grow in the court, in the centre of which stands the Bèguine church. According to the rule of St. Bèque, which “la Grande Dame” steadfastly maintains, the members of the institution must attend the church three times a day. They were there at the time we made our visit, and thither we also went.
A couple of hundred figures were seated in the large white-washed church, wrapped in large, white dresses, producing an effect as if they were made of ice. Immovable, and all, as it were, shaped in the same mould, they sate on their benches in rows,—all bowed towards the altar. The sight produced an icy effect upon me, which the singing of a remarkably pure and beautiful female voice (the only voice which was raised during this divine service,) was not able to melt. And perhaps this same feeling influenced my impression of the whole establishment, which, nevertheless, has many good points, and where we met with more than one educated and kindly-disposed person.
The private rooms and the common halls were all of the same character. Order and cleanliness prevailed; but of comfort and beauty, there seemed to be none—nothing of that which is so well expressed by the untranslatable German word “gemüthlichkeit,” and which may be found even in the poorest cottage. In order to live happily in such rooms as these, one must have some great soul-vitalizing object out of them. But this exists not in the Bèguignage. Every one who enters them may, indeed, renounce all personal luxury, and all outward worldliness, but yet may, at the same time, live merely for themselves, or for their friends.
Many of the individuals now there worked together in warm rooms. Most of those with whom I conversed appeared to have no cause of complaint. But sunshine was wanting as much within as without the house.
It cannot be denied that a well-ordered, large establishment, in which people can live comfortably, although frugally, at a reasonable cost, and have retirement and intercourse, just as they like, supplies a want in social life for many lonely individuals. But, I could never become enthusiastic about this; and if ever I were tempted to enter into a Catholic society, it would not be the Bèguiguage.
From Ghent we went to Bruges. Bruges stands like a falling monument of ancient greatness. The city,—the population of which amounted, in the time of Louis XI., to four hundred thousand persons, does not now exceed forty thousand; of which, one half are said to require support. There are handsome streets and palaces, but they are empty and desolate. Bruges, they say, is sick, Bruges is dying, because Bruges has no longer any staple branch of industry which can sustain her life. Its small lace-making trade scarcely pays its own labor. The Abbé Curtou's excellent institution for the blind, deaf and dumb, and this man's amiable individuality, were, together with some portraits of Charles the Bold, and his gentle daughter—in whose countenance one can yet recognize that of the father—were all that appeared to me most worthy of attention in Bruges.
We sped across the fields of Flanders towards our private home, and towards two large colonies of children, Ruysselede and Bernhem. These were the especial objects of this portion of our journey. The wind blew soft, yet fresh, from the sea-side, across the wide fields, now covered with succulent and verdant vegetation, (colza, turnips, and such-like,) and rustled in the bending tops of the poplar trees in the long avenues which extended themselves endlessly through the country. Small, prosperous farms rose here and there, with thatched roofs, upon the fertile land, like its most well-favored productions; and here and there, also, stood forth an old mansion, with moats and towers, and a look of the middle ages. A fresh minor key prevailed in the air and the landscape, which had for me a peculiar, foreign charm. I seemed to myself never to have been more agreeably affected by outward objects. The novelty of the scene, the open views, the softly-waving fields, were refreshing, after the lofty hills and deep valleys of the Alpine land. Earth and man seemed here to grow fat together in a great quietness. So, also, it seemed to me, in the beautiful mansion of Oestkamp, where I and my friends spent some days in the family of Baron de Peers, the brother-in-law of M. Duepetiaux.
I had here the pleasure of witnessing the higher Flemish domestic life, in its rural beauty and grace. The excellent master of the house, the active agriculturist and patriot, at the same time; the clever and amiable lady of the house; the happy children, dividing their time between studies, rural labors, and pleasures; and the happy domestic animals, which grazed fearlessly in the green meadows around the mansion—an old castle of the ancient times;—daily life in the cheerful family circle, familiar intercourse, mealtimes, the beautiful prints,—all presented a picture of prosperity and happiness, more beautiful and more perfect, than any by the great Flemish masters.
The two families set out from Oestkamp one fine morning, to visit the agricultural colonies for neglected children—Ruysselede and Bernhem. As I have already described at large these institutions, in a separate article, I will not here go further into the subject, but merely express the wish that they should be visited by all persons who have an interest in establishments of this class, for the children there appear to me to be placed in the best possible circumstances, for the complete development both of soul and body, more especially at Ruysselede, the colony of boys. The peculiar part which is assigned to music at this place, deserves especial notice; for its enlivening notes do not alone give the signal for all the divisions of the day, and its several occupations, signals for the boys marching in and marching out, but it also constitutes a reward for their good behavior. Every boy who conducts himself well, is permitted to learn music, and besides that, to select the instrument on which he would like to play. We were regaled, during dinner, with table-music by these boys, which could scarcely have been better performed by a well-trained military band.
In the girl's colony at Bernhem, on the contrary, I lacked altogether the salutary encouragement to good behavior which the rich gifts of the fine arts introduce into it; and moreover, drawing seems to furnish a seed of intellectual culture especially suitable for girls, and calculated to develope them, in more than one respect, for a higher class of social life.
People have said, and still say, a great deal against asylums for the neglected rising generation; and certainly it would be well if they were not required, if the careful training of the child could be safely left to families, or to the private home; but are there not times, in most countries, where, through former neglect, the number of innocent, friendless children, becomes frightfully great? It was so in Belgium, when, immediately after the February revolution in Paris, Duepetiaux obtained the consent of the Belgian Chamber to the establishment of these two asylums, the design of which he had long entertained. The prisons and poor-houses of the country, at that period, contained about twenty thousand poor children. On occasions of this kind, the asylum stands forth like the “holy grove,” on the mountains of Switzerland. It breaks the fall of the increasing avalanche, which, when scattered in many directions, and melted by the sunbeams, becomes transformed into fertilizing brooks and rivers.
The glowing sunset smiled, in the softest rosy light,
over the landscape, as we drove home, whilst the mist spread its soft, white vail, around the bright green
wood. Every thing promised us a beautiful morrow.
It shone upon our journey to
Antwerp, October 9th.—At Antwerp, I was entertained in the former house and home of Rubens,—the relatives of Madame Duepetiaux receiving us with the greatest hospitality. The life-enjoyable, artistic home, with all its wealth of color, and where still many well-preserved pictures and ornaments bear witness to his taste, is inhabited at the present time by a young couple, so handsome and so loveable, that Rubens, had he seen them, would have seized upon his pencil, or have—flung it away.
The Museum of Antwerp, which contains many of the greatest masterpieces of the Flemish school, deserves to be frequently visited by all lovers of art. It furnished me with some hours of rich enjoyment. One painting, “The Adoration of the Three Kings,” of which I have never seen any engraving, has, more than any other picture of Rubens, given me an understanding of his genius.
The harbor of Antwerp, the river Scheldt, which here, near the sea, is broad, and brings up into the city ships from all parts of the world, now landing on the quays their manifold lading, and the great emigrant ships, carrying out the superabundant population of Europe, to the still unpeopled, and affluent plains, of the New World, present a scene full of animation. The most remarkable object in Antwerp, however, is its Cathedral-tower, which elevates itself above the ancient church, like a crown of crystallized lace, light and airy, rising to a dizzy height towards heaven. This is the highest triumph of lace-making.
Across the broad quays, alongside the harbor, you see low, green fields, extending on the other side of the river, far, far into the distance. The tall reeds bend before the winds, as if they were beckoning into Holland. My heart and my inclination attracts me thither, because no one of the newer states of Europe has a nobler history, and no one, perhaps, at the present day, has preserved more unchanged the peculiarity of its popular life, manners, and costume. Neither had friendly voices been wanting, at the Congress, which called me thither, and made me conscious that the friend of humanity might find there, now, much to learn. I must now, however, content myself with pausing upon the strand, and thence saluting the good little country, with a glance of esteem and heart-felt acknowledgment.
It was a long and bloody struggle for religion and liberty of conscience, against Spain, at that time in the height of her power, that Holland grew great and free. She won in the struggle at the same time that the mighty Spain lost her power and sunk—and has sunk ever since—whilst the little Netherland ascended from the waves, a new creation, a new revelation of beauty and power in the eye of day. She grew in dominion on the sea, in dominion in the realms of art and science; in outward power; in inward wealth. She planted with beautiful flowers her soil, lately bathed with the blood of battles, and in the peace of her flower-gardens, gave an asylum to foreigners from other lands persecuted for religion and freedom of thought. And profound labors of the human mind sprung up on its free soil, as its noblest flowers.
It was in the gardens of Haarlem, that Linnæus grew great, under the fatherly care of Boerhave. Sweden did not understand her great sou. Boerhave recognized his genius. Upon his death-bed, when the grateful disciple kissed his hand with tears, Boerhave drew his to his lips and said; “My dear Linnæus, it is I who ought to kiss your hand, because you will do more for science than I; you will become a new light to it!”———
May heaven smile above thee, thou good, little country; nurse of great men; keeper, at the present time, of the noblest treasures of humanity. I am now not able to tread thy free, peace-illumined soil—perhaps another time!
Yet once again, I returned to Brussels and to the beautiful home of my friends. I left it, grateful to have made the acquaintance of a married pair who belong to the affectionate and happy of earth; as well as in M. Duepetiaux, a statesman deeply imbued with a grand human idea.
“Labor for the elevation of the poorer classes in every respect!” were his last words to me at the moment of parting. “Believe me, this is the most important of all our undertakings. I have thought much, I have experimented and attempted much, in questions for the well-being of society, but I have never found any thing more momentous than this. It is not alone the duty of the Christian, it is at the same time the highest state-wisdom!”
Words these, worthy of observation, as coming from a man, who has been for many years, Director of Prisons, and Philanthropic Institutions, in one of the constitutional, self-governed realms of Europe.
The next Philanthropic Congress, is fixed for the autumn of next year, and is to be held at Frankfort.
On the 12th of October, I traveled by railway, in six hours, from Brussels to Paris.
Amongst the passengers in the carriage, in which I traveled, was a military-looking man, with a light-haired little girl of three years old, upon his knee. The little one seemed to like making excursions in the carriage. A lively young Frenchman, who sat opposite me, took possession of her, and decked her out fantastically with flowers, in which business I assisted; the little one submitting to it all, casting every now and then a glance at her father, as if to say, “What do you say, what do you think now?” to which he did not fail to reply with looks of the utmost amazement. Finally, we sent the little one, like an animated bush of flowers, to her father, who clasped her, delighted, flowers and all, to his bosom.—Ever young, ever delightful relationship!—Eternal springtime of humanity!
- ↑ As I gave a very full report of this Congress, at the time, in an article which was published in the Stockholm Aftonblad, during the autumn of 1856, which was translated into various languages, I shall, therefore, here only touch upon a few of its principal traits.—Author's Note.
- ↑ Schiller, in Don Carlos.