Antwerp is very strong linguistically. The _quatre
langues_--Flemish, French, English, and German--make a universal
confusion of tongues, and the whole town is nothing but a huge open
Flemish--French dictionary, every shop-sign or street-name being
translated. A few sturdy burghers stick to the old tongue, and sometimes
English rules the roast. "The Welsh Harp" (which is Antwerp way) is a
sailor's cabaret near the quay. There is even a trace of Irish influence
in the etymology of Antwerp as given in the official handbook; for
Antigon, the giant who used to cut off the hand of any shipman that
refused him tribute, and whose throwing it (_Handwerpen_) into the river
gave the name to the city, is stated beforehand to have lived in the
castle of Antwerp. They are not destitute of wit, the Belgians, if I may
judge by some specimens I heard. It is a local joke to refer to the
famous "_dirigeable_" balloon, which burst in the latter days of the
Exhibition, as the "_dechirable_" balloon. "They pooh-pooh the past
nowadays," said a tram-conductor to me, "but when I look at the Cathedral
and Rubens' 'Descent from the Cross' I think our forefathers were _assez
malins_." A seedy vendor of lottery-tickets declared that every one of
them would draw a prize.
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