as the lot of the average citizen.

A refined materialism is stamped on all the habits of Flemish life.
English comfort is harsh in tone and arid in color; whereas the
old-fashioned Flemish interiors rejoice the eye with their mellow tints,
and the feelings with their genuine heartiness. There, work implies
no weariness, and the pipe is a happy adaptation of Neapolitan
"far-niente." Thence comes the peaceful sentiment in Art (its most
essential condition), patience, and the element which renders its
creations durable, namely, conscience. Indeed, the Flemish character
lies in the two words, patience and conscience; words which seem at
first to exclude the richness of poetic light and shade, and to make the
manners and customs of the country as flat as its vast plains, as cold
as its foggy skies. And yet it is not so. Civilization has brought her
power to bear, and has modified all things, even the effects of climate.
If we observe attentively the productions of various parts of the globe,
we are surprised to find that the prevailing tints from the temperate
zones are gray or fawn, while the more brilliant colors belong to the
products of the hotter climates. The manners and customs of a country
must naturally conform to this law of nature.

Flanders, which in former times was essentially dun-colored and
monotonous in tint, learned the means of irradiating its smoky
atmosphere through its political vicissitudes, which brought it under
the successive dominion of Burgundy, Spain, and France, and threw
it into fraternal relations with Germany and Holland. From Spain it
acquired the luxury of scarlet dyes and shimmering satins, tapestries of
vigorous design, plumes, mandolins, and courtly bearing. In exchange for
its linen and its laces, it brought from Venice that fairy glass-ware in
which wine sparkles and seems the mellower. From Austria it learned the
ponderous diplomacy which, to use a popular saying, takes three steps
backward to one forward; while its trade with India poured into it the
grotesque designs of China and the marvels of Japan.

And yet, in spite of its patience in gathering such treasures, its
tenacity in parting with no possession once gained, its endurance of all
things, Flanders was considered nothing more than the general storehouse
of Europe, until the day when the discovery of tobacco brought into
one smoky outline the scattered features of its national physiognomy.
Thenceforth, and notwithstanding