The European Sunday by P.

Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Society · Oakland, Cal. · Aug 17, 1882

The European Sunday.

By P.

SUNDAY, July 31, 1881, I went into the old cathedral at Antwerp, said to be the largest and most beautiful gothic structure in Belgium. A priest and attendants were officiating before the altar, and a score or so of women were kneeling in their seats, counting their beads and saying their prayers. In the afternoon, nearly every one seemed to be in the streets and other public places, to observe how he could best enjoy the day. The military paraded with brass band and martial music. For several blocks the sidewalks were so covered with tables at which men and women of all ages sat partaking of the common German beverage, that the pedestrians had to turn into the carriage-way in order to pass. It seemed to be a grand holiday, but probably no more so than other Sundays. In the evening went to the Harmonie—a large and most beautiful garden filled with trees, plants, flowers, statuary, gas jets and colored lights, tables, chairs, and people. In the center of this enchanting place was a large and elegant orchestral stand from which between seventy and eighty musicians, playing on stringed, brass, and other instruments, discoursed such sweet, harmonious and soul-stirring strains as I never heard before. On one side of the garden was a long marble colonnaded building, brilliantly lighted, and devoted to the uses of a restaurant. The tables in the garden were small and thickly set in rows, with from two to four persons at each. Numerous and busy were the waiters in attendance. From the halls of the restaurant the people at the tables were supplied with ices, ice-cream, and some of the many kinds of drinks which Europe affords. Beer, however, seemed to be the great staple; there was also much wine, as well as stronger drinks served. The young men, maidens, and the fathers and mothers, were here gathered by the hundreds, enjoying themselves in social pastime. They did not drink as Americans drink. Our countrymen drink with not a breath between the tipping and the draining of the glass, but often an hour or more will pass here before the glass is emptied; sometimes several glasses are emptied within that time. But usually the German is deliberate, and takes his time. The people were not boisterous. They were social and chatty. At about eleven o'clock they returned to their homes, happy and full. I went to my hotel satisfied that the observations of this day had taught me something of Sunday life in Europe.

MUNICH, Sunday, Aug. 7.

The king, who has been staying here for a few days, left the city to-day on the morning train. A large party, consisting mostly of laborers, left the city in the morning for one of the suburban towns, and towards the close of day returned, many of them jolly and boisterous, but a large number were too drunk to make much noise. The women appeared to be in about the same condition as the men.

FLORENCE, Sunday, Aug. 14.

In the morning visited the Duomo, where was a large congregation of worshipers, perhaps nearly one hundred, but on visiting Santa Croce soon after, found an audience of six priests, who were devoutly saying their prayers, perhaps asking absolution for those who had previously confessed to them, or those who might come next. The stores and places of business are open all the morning, but most of them closed in the afternoon, when the people seem to gather largely in the parks, gardens, and galleries of art, nearly all of which are open to the public free on Sundays. In the evening, visited the Casino—which is to Florence what Central Park is to New York—and found the people gathered to hear the music, and drink beer and wine after the manner of those at Antwerp.

NAPLES, Sunday, Aug. 21.

Here, as in Florence, Munich, and Antwerp, trade seems to be very brisk in the morning. Hundreds of peasant women and boys come into the city with their donkeys loaded down with kegs of wine and water, and fruits and vegetables of all kinds, just the same as on other days of the

week; but the afternoon and evening, as in the other cities named, are given up to those things from which the people imagine they can derive the greatest sensual enjoyment.

SUNDAY, Aug. 28.

Passed through one of the mountain villages between Arona and Simplon, which was filled with soldiers, or military men, with a band of music. The streets were lined on either side with stalls or booths for the sale of all kinds of liquids to gratify the thirsty, and fruits and other eatables to gratify the hungry, and hundreds of different toys and other things to please the women and children who had gathered from long distances to enjoy the day.

GENEVA, Sunday, Sept. 4.

Some of the stores open in the forenoon, but many of them closed through the day. This appears more like an American Sunday, and the city more like an American city, than any I have yet seen on the continent.

PARIS, Sunday, Sept. 18.

In the morning went to the Madeleine, where the great organ pealed forth rich music. "Notes inspiring holy love, Notes that wing their heavenly ways To mend the choirs above." The worshipers were few. After a short tarry here went to the Notre Dame. Here the worshipers numbered even less than at the Madeleine. Went to St. Cloud in the afternoon. Found that the city had prepared to entertain the thousands who might come. Concluded that the French can outdo all other nations in the variety of Sunday entertainments. Here were revolving swings, swings perpendicular, and swings horizontal; circuses, with a hundred hobby-horses and children riders; trains of cars going with electric speed over manufactured mountains and through tunnels; steamers rocking and pitching over the roughest of imitation seas. Occasionally these boats, and cars, and swings, and horses, would stop to unload their human freight, and fill up anew with boys and girls, and old men and women, to be driven around by steam as had been the others before, until they too should get their half franc's worth of pleasure. Here were theatricals in personne, and theatricals in automaton; Punch and Judy, and punches without Judies, punches for the throat, and punches with the elbows, string bands, and brass bands, and bands of gypsies, songs and choruses, and choruses without songs. I think the whole was called a "Grand Bazaar." And so it was indeed. A long line of tents and temporary structures contained an endless variety of things to eat, drink, and amuse. Where the multitude gathered here came from, I know not; but this is certain, they all seemed to enjoy the pleasures of the occasion very much. Returning to Paris by way of the Boise de Boulogne and Champs Elysees, the great number of fine horses and carriages I saw fully demonstrated that all of Paris had not gone to St. Cloud. In the evening, I went to the garden of the Tuilleries, which was lighted with a score of electric lights, which so dimmed the thousands of gas-jets, colored and curiously wrought, as to make them like the stars of the heavens in the light of the full moon. Preparation had here been made for the entertainment of the people, on a scale similar to, but far larger, than that of St. Cloud. The vast area of the garden was so crowded and packed with humanity that it was almost impossible to see or hear anything to advantage. This was called the "Fete of the Republican Press." Surely it was a great press. At the entrance gate the pressure was so great that one could not long survive it; and being composed of men, women and children, it was truly republican. But the "Fete of the Republican Press" on a Sunday evening was too much of a press for me; so, at an early hour, I made my exit from the garden and found my way to the hotel, glad to know from my own observation how the "Lord's day" is observed in Paris.—P., in the Outlook.