Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1877-02-14
A Festival AufHerp.

Summer season when the peasants from
| the meadows press close upon the
| burning, white pavements OF Antwerp,
and gaze in wonder at the beauty OF
the show. The whole life of the city
becomes one vast homage to the del
ties in which all the thoughts and ira
ditions of the people centre-their Vir-
gin and their RubeIs. The joyful
voice of the cathedral calls out over
the meadows and the gala deeked
streets: "Arise, o ye burghers of
Antwerp, for this is the great day of
the year! The procession of Our Lady
formetb below"
Soon the house fronts and the peaked
roofs are alive with round Flemish faces
and fair hair and white caps, and the
people swarm out of the houses and
stand packed together on the sultry
sidewalks. In all the windows great
waSen tapers are fiaring, and garlands
of paper roses hang over ali the doors.
The old women tell their beads, and
mutter a prayer for themselves and
their city and their homes and their
trades.
Within the cathedral, the peasants, in
their blue blouses, and brown kirtles,
are kDeeling about the chaDeel and the
sacrament chapel. They are tired and
careworn with the miles they have
walked this morning. Their work
knotted hands are folded patiently
over their umbrellas, and their faces,
brown, honest, and humble. are up
turned in reverent alteration to the
glory upon the altar and the walls.
They are still with dumb instinct of
the beauty and grandeur that lie SO
far above their simple lives of sowing
and reaping, and yetreveal themselves
to them, dimly, imperfectly, il may be,
in every CLEAN of the silver vessels, in
every breath of the vaporous incense.
The black wells have been drawn
away from the great passion-scenes,
and a blaze of scarlet and a shining of
yellow hair and large white patch of
shroud and the fiery eyes of 4 great
brown horse and a suggestion of grief
lined human faces look down upon the
kneeling worshipers through the dim
twilight of the nave.
About the chapel hang old Flemish
altar-pieces, with grotesque faces aud
monstrous heads, and leer of mOckery
that breaks the solemn symmetry of
the ediiee like a fiippant laugh. From
over the great door streams food OF
rosy and purple light that deluges the
dark pillars, ana rests now on the
giided vestments of the priests, now
on the low, gray tOmbs of the burgher-
princes. A torrent of sound rushes
from the organ loft down the arches to
the dome, like loud chant of victory
with wailing undeItone of grief for
the dead.
In ihe body Of the cathedral is an
altar erected for the festival, and great
white lilies and forests of oleanders
grouped about it. The priests stand
before it, with jeweled iuceuse-vessels
in their hands. Above, ayaiast a drap-
perry Of deep scarlet velvet, stands the
Madonna with the Child in her arms.
She wears train of cloth of gold en-
broidered with roses. and petticoat of
solid silver studded with diamonds.
Her sceptre is set with rubies and en-
eraids, and there is a high jeweled
crown upon her head.
See how the old traditions of the
land have been handed down, She is
no Virgin, this royal dame with the
scorhful plaster face. but one of those
proud burgher-queenes who rustic
about the streets in stiff brocades and
jeweled coifs-one of these naughty
Princesses that made an annual prog
ress through their liege domain of
Flanders.
But they are proud of her those Flem- |
ingsl She represents to them the old
time splendor and pomp and luxury
that once filed t,eir land with color
and wealth. They bow their heads |
reverently when the priest rings the
bell. and the proud fsnre moves to-
ward the door, with the white robed
acolytes pressing about it. She passes,
this naughty doll, beyond the canvas,
from which the Mother and Son look
down in their agony upon the hurryiug
people, and reaches the pure daylight
OF the flower decked street.
A low murmur sweeps through the
gathered crowds. Children come out
from the houses, and strew flowers
along the path of Our Lady of Antwerp.
On she moves, amid the chanting and
yer, and the splendor of painted silken
banners, to the great Place, where,
above the mighty sea of faces, is raised
another altar, on which sits a pale
marble image, life size, of the Mother
of Sorrows. Itis thrown out in CHASTITY
relief 10y the sheaves of arms and tro-
phies behind her, and the dark green
curtain above her head.
Here the procession halts. 4 breath !
less silence falls upon the crowd. The
ascend the altar steps, and bare their
heads to the streaming sunlight, and
say mass for the welfare of the good
city OF Antwerp during tie coming
year.
Ay, it is well that there where the |
fires of the Inquisition blazed, and the |
gallows reared their corpse hungcrests, |
the people should kneel to-day, with |
bowed heads and folded hands, and |
wait with due humbleness and graft /
tude for the benediction that the bright
robed priest, who stands there among
the god and silver vessels at the feet
of the pale statue, shall shower upon !
their contIite beads with one wave of |
his jeweled hand.
Beyond the surging multitude and |
the chanting priests and the stately
altar, great white house rises in the
distance. There is marble bust high |
up on the roof, dark against the sky. |
1t Is the head of Rubens. Fluted
columns are on the marble front of the |
building, and cberuhs and gaTlanded