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His name occurs as staying, on his entry at Leyden, at the "Casteel von Antwerpen"; and again, a year later, in the recensiones of the University for February 1729, as domiciled with one Jan Oson.
Norwegian: Elizabeth IV, 4,182 tons; Polynesia, 4,064 tons; Bufjord, 2,284 tons; Qvindeggen, 2,610 tons; Furu, 2,029 tons; Isdalen, 2,275 tons. Other nations: Antwerpen, Dutch, 11,000 tons; Benpark, Italian, 3,842 tons; Gamen, Swedish, 2,617 tons; Luis Vives, Spanish, 2,394 tons; Assimacos, Greek, 2,898 tons.
On her principal sail there was a large letter "P," and under it "ANTWERPEN." When she hove in sight, the jack was hoisted at the foremast-head of the Josephine, which is the signal for a pilot. As the little cutter rounded to, the words "Bateau Pilote" with her number, were seen on the stern. She was a Belgian pilot-boat.
One evening, having left Antwerpen ringing its innumerable bells over the grave of its dead Art, he leaned out of the casement of an absent friend's old palace in the Brabant street that is named after Mary of Burgundy; an old casement crusted with quaint carvings, and gilded round in Spanish fashion, with many gargoyles and griffins, and illegible scutcheons.
But what I want is to know things, to know all about what was before ever I was living. St. Gudule now they say it was built hundreds of years before; and Rubes again they say he was a painter king in Antwerpen before the oldest, oldest woman like Annémie ever began to count time.
He will teach other men to draw, his pictures will command fabulous prices, and his name shall be honored everywhere! Yes, my boy shall draw pictures! This day will I take him to Mynheer Jacob van Swanenburch, who was a pupil of the great Rubens, and who has scholars even from Antwerpen.
"Who was that seigneur with you last night, Bébée?" he asked, after a long silence, watching her as she moved. Bébée's eyes grew very soft, but they looked up frankly. "I am not sure I think he is a painter a great painter prince, I mean as Rubes was in Antwerpen; he wanted roses the night before last in the cathedral." "But he was walking with you?"
And in the magical ink-pool I see you and me still sitting, O Transatlantic Parisienne, as we sat that sunny afternoon three hundred years ago in ancient Antwerp, in oud Antwerpen, niched in the windowseat of that quaint hostelry which gives on the great market-place, and watching the festive procession.
There was something so novel, so sleepy, so harmless, so mediaeval, in the Flemish life, that it soothed him. He had been swimming all his life in salt sea-fed rapids; this sluggish, dull, canal water, mirroring between its rushes a life that had scarcely changed for centuries, had a charm for him. He stayed awhile in Antwerpen.
Henceforward I found "Columbus" a watchword, and "1492" a magic talisman, causing dusky eyes to kindle and turbaned heads to nod beamingly. The town-barber of Alt Antwerpen, who was wont to shave me in the sixteenth century, had a beautiful motto: I am Hair-dresser, Barber, and Surgeon, I shave with, soap and much delight, Although there are barbers who do it As though they were in a fright.
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