There is a small chapel in that town, where
they keep, in a crystal tube, what is said to be some of the blood of
our Lord. It has been there for more than 700 years. The tube is
preserved in a beautiful case adorned with precious stones, which is
carried through the town on the first Monday after May 2. The houses
are decorated with flags, and candles burn in almost every window.
Through the streets, between crowds of people standing on the
pavements or looking down from the windows--while the church bells
ring, and wreaths of incense fill the air, bands of music, squadrons
of cavalry, crucifixes, shrines, images, the banners of the parishes,
heralds in their varied dresses, bareheaded pilgrims from England,
France, and other countries, maidens in white, bearing palms or crowns
of thorn or garlands--priests and chanting choristers, move slowly
along, and, when the relic of the Holy Blood passes, all the people
sink to the ground. Bruges, usually so empty, is always crowded on
that day.
Seven or eight years ago at Lierre, a town near Antwerp, I saw three
processions in one month, each of which showed the Belgian fondness
for such things.
Pages:
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62