The Spell of Flanders - An Outline of the History, Legends and Art of Belgium's Famous Northern Provinces

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Title: The Spell of Flanders - An Outline of the History, Legends and Art of Belgium's Famous Northern Provinces
Author: Vose, Edward Neville
Language: English
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THE SPELL OF FLANDERS

* * * * *

THE SPELL SERIES

_Each volume with one or more colored plates and many
illustrations from original drawings or special photographs.
Octavo, with decorative cover, gilt top, boxed._

_Per volume $2.50 net, carriage paid $2.70_

THE SPELL OF ITALY

By Caroline Atwater Mason

THE SPELL OF FRANCE

By Caroline Atwater Mason

THE SPELL OF SOUTHERN SHORES

By Caroline Atwater Mason

THE SPELL OF ENGLAND

By Julia de W. Addison

THE SPELL OF HOLLAND

By Burton E. Stevenson

THE SPELL OF SWITZERLAND

By Nathan Haskell Dole

THE SPELL OF THE ITALIAN LAKES

By William D. McCrackan

THE SPELL OF TYROL

By William D. McCrackan

THE SPELL OF JAPAN

By Isabel Anderson

THE SPELL OF SPAIN

By Keith Clark

THE SPELL OF FLANDERS

By Edward Neville Vose

THE SPELL OF THE HOLY LAND

By Archie Bell

THE PAGE COMPANY

53 BEACON STREET, BOSTON, MASS.

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Cathedral of St. Sauveur, Bruges_

(_See page 47_)]

THE SPELL OF FLANDERS

An Outline of the History, Legends and Art of Belgium's
Famous Northern Provinces

Being the story of a Twentieth Century Pilgrimage in a
Sixteenth Century Land just before the Outbreak of the Great War

EDWARD NEVILLE VOSE

Illustrated

Boston
The Page Company
MDCCCCXV

First Impression, April, 1915

The Colonial Press

C. H. Simonds Company, Boston, U. S. A.

ALBERT I.,

King of the Belgians, the guiding star of a brave nation and
the hero of the Battle of Flanders in the Great War, this book
is dedicated

PUBLISHERS' NOTE

Lord Beaconsfield once said: "Flanders has been trodden by the feet
and watered by the blood of countless generations of British
soldiers." This famous passage--which has received a new confirmation
to-day--is typical of many references among English writers and
statesmen to Flanders as a general term covering all of what is now
known as Belgium. Among the citizens of that brave little Kingdom,
however, and among most Continental writers, Flanders is recognised as
being the name of only the northern part of Belgium. Small as that
country is, it has for centuries been bi-lingual, the northern portion
speaking Flemish, the southern French; and for centuries the history
of the Flemish provinces was as distinct from that of the Walloon
province to the southward as the early history of California or Texas
was from that of New England.

Although eventually united under one Government with the Walloons and
with what is now Holland, it was during the long period of their
semi-independence that the Flemings achieved many of the artistic and
architectural monuments that have made Flanders for all time one of
the most interesting regions in the world.

While this book, therefore, does not attempt to describe the whole of
Belgium, it does present a pen picture of the northern part of the
country as it existed almost at the moment when the devastating
scourge of the Great War swept across it.

FOREWORD

This book is the record of a vacation tour in the beautiful old
Flemish towns of Northern Belgium beginning in May and ending in July
of the Summer of 1914. The assassination of the Austrian Archduke
Ferdinand and his wife at Sarajevo took place while our little party
was viewing the mediæval houses and churches of Ghent and Audenaerde,
but in the many discussions of that event to which we listened there
was no whisper of the awful fate which the march of events was so soon
to bring upon one of the most charming, peaceful and happy countries
in the world.

Many of the descriptions in the following pages were written in or
near the towns described, and within a day or so after the visit
narrated. Then each old Flemish "monument" was in as perfect a state
of preservation as the reverent pride and care of the Belgian populace
and the learned and skilful restorations of the Belgian government
could together accomplish. The fact that since these accounts were
written many of these very towns have been swept by shot and shell,
have been taken and retaken by hostile armies, have formed the stage
upon which some of the direst tragedies of the world's greatest and
most terrible war have been enacted, will--it is hoped--give them a
permanent interest and value. As a painting of some famous city as it
appeared many years or centuries ago is of the utmost historical
interest, even though by an inferior artist, so these halting word
pictures of towns that have since been wholly or partially destroyed
may help the reader to recall the glories that have passed away.

In accordance with the plan described in the first chapter, the tour
of Flanders followed a decidedly zigzag itinerary, frequently visiting
some town more than once. The purpose of this was to follow, in a
fairly chronological sequence, as far as possible, the development of
Flemish history, architecture and art. The outline of the intensely
fascinating history of the old Flemish communes that has been thus
presented may prove of interest to many readers who have been thrilled
by the superb bravery of the little Belgian army in its defence of
Flanders against overwhelming odds. As these glimpses into the past
clearly show, the men of Belgium have engaged in a battle against
foreign domination from the earliest ages. That it was at times a
losing struggle never for a moment diminished the ardour of their
resistance, or the depth of their devotion to liberty and the right to
rule themselves. And when we consider how, during these centuries of
conflict, and in defiance of obstacles that would have daunted a less
strong-hearted people, the men of Flanders found the inspiration, the
patience and the skill to erect some of the noblest examples of
mediæval architecture, to create a school of painting that ranks as
one of the most priceless heritages of the ages, and to excel in a
half a score of other lines of artistic endeavour, we surely must all
agree that here is a people we would not willingly see perish from the
earth.

If to be neutral is to stand by and silently acquiesce in the
destruction of Belgium as an independent nation, then the author of
this book is not neutral. In every fibre of his being he protests
against such a course as a crime against liberty, against humanity.
Happily, from every corner of the United States come unmistakable
evidences that the American people as a whole are not, at heart,
neutral on this subject. The embattled farmers who stood on the
bridge at Concord and fired "the shot heard round the world" have
thrilled the imagination and stimulated the patriotism of every
American schoolboy, but no less heroic is the spectacle of the little
Belgian army under the personal leadership of its noble King standing
like a rock on the last tiny strip of Belgian soil and stopping the
onrush of the most powerful fighting organisation in the world. At
Nieuport and Dixmude and along the bloodstained Yser Canal, the men of
Belgium fought for the same cause of liberty for which our forefathers
fought at Bunker Hill. Whatever our sympathies may be with respect to
the larger aspects of the great world war--and as to these we may most
properly remain neutral--our national history and traditions, the very
principles of government to which we owe "all that we have and are,"
cannot but confirm us in the profound conviction that no conclusion to
this war can be just and right, or permanent, that does not once more
restore the Belgian nation and guarantee that it shall remain
completely and forever free.

On the other hand, while news of the damage done to some famous
Flemish church or Hotel de Ville causes the author sensations akin to
those that he would experience on learning of the wounding of a
friend, this book will contain no complaint regarding German
destruction of these monuments of architecture. At Ypres and Malines,
where the havoc wrought cannot fail to have been fearful, the damage
was done in the course of battles in which the most powerful engines
of destruction ever invented by man were used on both sides. Much as
we may deplore the results, we cannot blame the individual commanders.
At Antwerp, Ghent, Bruges and many other famous Flemish cities the
Germans appear to have made every effort to avoid wanton destruction
and preserve the most notable historic edifices. After the war is over
and we have learned exactly what structures have been destroyed, and
under what circumstances, we can justly place whatever blame may
attach to such a catastrophe where it belongs--but not until then. For
the present we can only hope that the damage may be less than has been
reported, and that in many instances it will be possible for the
Belgians--so skilful in the work of restoration--to reconstruct the
sections of famous buildings that have been damaged.

When the war is over many thousands of Americans and English will be
eager to visit the battle-fields of Flanders and see for themselves
the scenes of conflicts that will forever hold a great place in human
history. The author ventures to hope that this little book may be
found serviceable to such tourists as it contains much information not
to be found in any guide book. If it aids any of them--or any of the
far larger host of travellers whose journeys in far-off lands must be
made by their home firesides--to understand Flanders better it will
have achieved its purpose. It is one of the many ironies of the war
that towns like Ypres and Malines, which were rarely visited by
American tourists when they were in their perfection, will, no doubt,
be visited by thousands now that the clash of arms has brought them at
the same moment destruction and immortal fame.

EDWARD NEVILLE VOSE.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

PUBLISHERS' NOTE vii

FOREWORD ix

I. INTRODUCING FLANDERS AND THE FOUR PILGRIMS 1

II. VIEUX BRUGES AND COUNT BALDWIN OF THE IRON ARM 15

III. BRUGES IN THE DAYS OF CHARLES THE GOOD 30

IV. HOW BRUGES BECAME "THE VENICE OF THE NORTH" 54

V. DIXMUDE AND FURNES 78

VI. NIEUPORT AND THE YSER CANAL 94

VII. WHEN YPRES WAS A GREATER CITY THAN LONDON 116

VIII. COURTRAI AND THE BATTLE OF THE SPURS 146

IX. GHENT IN THE DAYS OF THE FLEMISH COUNTS 169

X. THE AGE WHEN GHENT WAS GOVERNED BY ITS GUILDS 192

XI. PHILIP THE GOOD AND THE VAN EYCKS 218

XII. TOURNAI, THE OLDEST CITY IN BELGIUM 242

XIII. THREE CENTURIES OF TOURNAISIAN ART 268

XIV. THE FALL OF CHARLES THE BOLD--MEMLING AT BRUGES 285

XV. MALINES IN THE TIME OF MARGARET OF AUSTRIA 311

XVI. GHENT UNDER CHARLES THE FIFTH--AND SINCE 344

XVII. AUDENAERDE AND MARGARET OF PARMA 367

XVIII. OLD ANTWERP--ITS HISTORY AND LEGENDS 393

XIX. THREE CENTURIES OF ANTWERP PRINTERS 411

XX. ANTWERP FROM THE TIME OF RUBENS TILL TO-DAY 438

XXI. WHERE MODERN FLANDERS SHINES--OSTENDE AND "LA PLAGE" 464

XXII. THE SPELL OF FLANDERS 480

BIBLIOGRAPHY 485

INDEX 489

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE
CATHEDRAL OF ST. SAUVEUR, BRUGES (_in full colour_)
(_See page 47_) _Frontispiece_

MAP OF BELGIUM AND THE NETHERLANDS,
SHOWING THE OLD FLEMISH PRINCIPALITY _facing_ 1

BÉGUINAGE BRIDGE, BRUGES 35

TOMB OF MARIE OF BURGUNDY, CHURCH OF NOTRE DAME, BRUGES 51

PALAIS DU FRANC, BRUGES (_in full colour_) 59

THE BELFRY, BRUGES 63

THE MINNEWATER, BRUGES 71

SHRIMP FISHERMEN, COXYDE 93

TOWER OF THE TEMPLARS, NIEUPORT 99

AN ANCIENT PAINTING OF THE FLEMISH KERMESSE BY TENIERS 115

CLOTH HALL, YPRES 119

HOTEL MERGHELYNCK, YPRES 139

CHURCH OF ST. PETER, YPRES 141

STATUE OF PETER DE CONINCK AND JOHN BREIDEL, BRUGES 154

CASTLE OF THE COUNTS, GHENT 170

RUINS OF THE ABBEY OF ST. BAVON, GHENT 184

POST OFFICE, CHURCH OF ST. NICHOLAS, BELFRY AND
CATHEDRAL, GHENT 195

DE DULLE GRIETE, GHENT 208

WORKROOM, PETIT BÉGUINAGE DE NOTRE DAME, GHENT 210

"SINGING ANGELS," FROM "THE ADORATION OF THE
LAMB"--JEAN VAN EYCK 236

"GEORGE VAN DER PAELE, CANON OF ST. DONATIAN,
WORSHIPPING THE MADONNA"--JEAN VAN EYCK (_in full colour_) 239

GENERAL VIEW OF TOURNAI AND THE FIVE-TOWERED CATHEDRAL 256

THE BELFRY, TOURNAI 262

A TRIPTYCH OF THE SEVEN SACRAMENTS BY ROGIER VAN DER WEYDEN 272

SHRINE OF ST. URSULA, HOSPITAL OF ST. JEAN, BRUGES 296

AN ILLUMINATION BY GHEERHARDT DAVID OF BRUGES,
1498; ST. BARBARA (_in full colour_) 300

"THE LAST SUPPER"--THIERRY BOUTS 307

QUAI VERT, BRUGES 310

CATHEDRAL OF ST. ROMBAUT, MALINES 312

TOWER OF THE CATHEDRAL OF ST. ROMBAUT, FROM
THE RUELLE SANS FIN 318

_IN HET PARADIJS AND MAISON DES DIABLES_; TWO FIFTEENTH
CENTURY HOUSES, MALINES 333

PORTRAIT OF JEAN ARNOLFINI AND HIS WIFE BY JEAN
VAN EYCK 340

MAISON DE LA KEURE, HOTEL DE VILLE, GHENT 347

PORTRAIT OF THE DUKE OF ALVA BY A. MORO 352

"THE ADORATION OF THE SHEPHERDS"--HUGO VAN DER GOES 362

OLD GUILD HOUSES, QUAI AUX HERBES, GHENT 365

HOTEL DE VILLE, AUDENAERDE 370

WOODEN DOORWAY, CARVED BY VAN DER SCHELDEN,
HOTEL DE VILLE, AUDENAERDE 375

CHURCH OF STE. WALBURGE, AUDENAERDE 383

A FLEMISH TAPESTRY OF THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY 386

THE _VIELLE BOUCHERIE_, ANTWERP 399

"THE BANKER AND HIS WIFE"--MATSYS 403

"WINTER"--PETER BREUGHEL 405

"DRAGGING THE STATUE OF THE DUKE OF ALVA THROUGH
THE STREETS OF ANTWERP"--C. VERLAT 418

COURTYARD OF THE PLANTIN MUSEUM, ANTWERP 428

ANCIENT PRINTING PRESSES AND COMPOSING CASES,
PLANTIN MUSEUM, ANTWERP 436

"THE DESCENT FROM THE CROSS"--RUBENS 439

"COUP DE LANCE"--RUBENS 442

"_LA VIERGE AU PERROQUET_"--RUBENS 445

PETER PAUL RUBENS 448

"AS THE OLD BIRDS SING THE YOUNG BIRDS PIPE"--JACOB
JORDAENS 453

HOTEL DE VILLE, ANTWERP 456

THE "SALLE DES JEUX," IN THE KURSAAL OSTENDE 476

[Illustration: MAP OF BELGIUM AND THE NETHERLANDS, SHOWING THE OLD
FLEMISH PRINCIPALITY]

THE SPELL OF FLANDERS

CHAPTER I

INTRODUCING FLANDERS AND THE FOUR PILGRIMS

"Flanders! Why, where is Flanders?"

"There! I told you she'd ask that question. You'll have to start right
at the beginning with her, and explain everything as you go along."

We were planning our next vacation tour in Europe, which we had long
before agreed to "do" together this year. That meant a party of
four--the "Professor," as I always called him, and his charming young
wife, my wife, and myself. Like the plays in which the characters
appear on the stage in the order that their names are printed on the
programme, the arrangement I have just given is significant. The
Professor is always first, a born leader-of-the-way. And I am usually
last, carrying the heavy bundles.

Not that I am complaining. No doubt I was born to do it. Moreover, the
Professor and I have been chums since boyhood. We worked our way
through "prep" school and college together, came to New York together,
and--in a modest way--have prospered together. At least, we felt
prosperous enough to think of going to Europe. For some years he has
been the head of the department of history in an important educational
institution within the boundaries of the greater city, while I have
devoted myself to journalism--and am therefore dubbed "the Editor,"
whenever he wishes to refer to me as a personage instead of a human
being, which, happily, is not very often. Of the two ladies in the
proposed party I do not need to speak--not because there is nothing to
say, but because they can speak for themselves. In fact, one of them
has just spoken, has asked a question, and it has not yet been
answered.

"Flanders, my dear," said the Professor, speaking in his most
sententious manner--as if delivering a lecture in his classroom--"is
the most interesting and the least visited corner of Europe. It has
more battle-fields and more Gothic churches per square mile than can
be found anywhere else. In other parts of Europe you can see mediæval
houses, here and there--usually in charge of a smirking caretaker,
with his little guidebook for sale, and hungrily anticipating his
little fee. In Flanders there are whole streets of them, whole towns
that date from the sixteenth century or earlier--but for the costumes
of the people, you could easily imagine yourself transported by some
enchantment back to the days of Charles the Bold, or even to the time
of the Crusaders."

"Yes," I added, "and there is no region in the world where the history
of the past seems more real, more instinct with the emotions that
govern human conduct to-day, than these quaint old Flemish towns. You
stand in front of a marble skyscraper on Fifth Avenue and read a
bronze tablet that tells you that here the Revolutionary forces under
old Colonel Putnam, or whoever it was, delayed the advancing British
and covered General Washington's retreat. Now, does that tablet help
you to reconstruct your history? No, you are quite aware that the
fight took place when Fifth Avenue was open country, but your
imagination will not work when you try to make it picture that scene
for you right there on Fifth Avenue where the tablet says it happened.

"Now, it's different in Flanders. You read in the history about how
the burghers of Bruges, when the Duke of Burgundy, Philip the Good,
tried to overawe the city by placing an army of archers in the
market-place, swarmed out of their houses and down the narrow, crooked
streets like so many angry bees. There are the same old houses, the
identical narrow, crooked streets--a bit of an effort and you can
picture it all--and how the Duke and his archers were driven back and
back, while the burghers swarmed in ever increasing numbers, and the
great tocsin in the belfry shrieked and clanged to tell the valiant
weavers that their liberties were in danger.

"And take that other famous event, when they flung the murderers of
Count Charles the Good--who lived and died five hundred years before
the other Prince who, like him, was surnamed "the Good"--from the
tower of the very cathedral in which they had murdered him. Why, you
can climb the tower and look off across the same sea of red-roofed
houses and down upon the same square, paved with cruelly jagged
stones, as did the condemned men when, one by one, they were led to
the edge of the parapet and sent hurtling down."

"The point is well taken," interrupted the Professor, "only that
particular church is no longer standing--it was destroyed during the
French Revolution. But really that makes little difference--there are
plenty of other towers in Bruges that have witnessed stirring scenes.
And all over Flanders it is the same way--nothing is easier than to
make your history live again, for everywhere you have the original
setting practically unchanged."

"It's all very well for you men," observed Mrs. Professor, when her
husband and I paused to get our breath, "who admire, or pretend to
admire, battles and executions and that sort of thing, but if there is
nothing else to see except places with such dreadfully unpleasant
associations I, for one, don't want to go there."

"On the contrary," I hastened to reply, seeing that the Professor was
much disturbed at this unexpected result of all our eloquence,
"Flanders has a lot of things to interest the ladies. Think of its
famous laces and lacemakers--we can still find the latter at work in
places like Bruges, Malines and Turnhout--of its rare old tapestries
from Audenaerde and Tournai, and the fine linens of Courtrai. Then
there are wood carvings the like of which you will travel far to see,
and old Flemish furniture everywhere."

"To say nothing of the pleasure of learning a little more about the
great Flemish school of art in the very home towns of its most
celebrated artists," added the Professor, who was much elated to see
that the frowns were leaving the fair face of his better half.

"That's much better," she announced. "I've always thought fine
hand-made lace the most wonderful product of feminine patience and
skill, and I should certainly love to watch them make it."

"For my part," remarked the fourth member of the party, who had been
strangely silent during all this discussion, "while I like to learn a
little about the history of the old towns I visit, and see the fine
things--whether paintings, or town-halls, or lace or tapestry--for
which they are famous, what I like the best is to study the people
themselves. I mean the live ones, not those who are dead and gone that
our husbands are talking about. I love to sit on the sidewalk on
pleasant evenings and have dinner and black coffee while watching the
people of the town go by. It's better than a play. And on rainy days
there is always some quaint old-fashioned inn or café where the whole
scene looks like a painting by Jordaens or Teniers. The beamed ceiling
and the pictures on the walls are grimy with the smoke and steam of
countless dinners, the buxom landlady sits in state behind an array of
bottles of all sizes and colours and labelled at all prices, her
equally plump daughters wait on the tables, the very guests--including
ourselves--form a part of the picture. Why, it makes me want to be
back there again, just to think of it!"

"The Madame is right!" exclaimed the Professor heartily--all of our
friends call my wife "the Madame" because she speaks French as
fluently as English. "Our first object on this trip will be pleasure.
A little knowledge of the history of Flanders, of tapestry and
lacemaking, of architecture and art, may enhance our enjoyment of what
we see, because we will thereby understand it better and appreciate
its interest or beauty more keenly. But we are not going over as
historical savants, or as authorities on art--or pretend that we know
any more about such subjects than we really do--"

"Which is just enough to enable us to derive sincere pleasure from
seeing them, and having them explained to us, without troubling our
heads about this, that or the other element of technique," I
interrupted, completing the Professor's sentence for him.

"And the best part of the day will be, just as Madame says," added
Mrs. Professor gaily, "the dinners on the sidewalks, where we can
watch the people as they go about and tell each other of what we have
seen since morning. And, hurray! for the Flemish inns!"

"Well, as to Flemish inns," observed the Madame, "what I said related
to eating a dinner in one. When it comes to sleeping in them there are
other things to think of besides beamed ceilings and picturesque
interiors.

"A few years ago we had an experience at Antwerp that taught us the
folly of arriving at a great continental city late at night without
having hotel accommodations secured in advance. We had started at
eight in the morning from Hamburg, intending to stop at Antwerp just
long enough to transfer our belongings to a train for Brussels that,
according to the time-table, would leave fifteen minutes after our
train arrived. Now, from Hamburg to Antwerp is quite a long
ride--short as the distance looks on the map--and when we finally
arrived at our destination, half an hour late, it was long after
midnight and our train for Brussels had gone.

"We were both tired out, and hastily decided that we would put up at
Antwerp for the night and go on to Brussels in the morning. As we
emerged from the great Gare Centrale we found despite the lateness of
the hour, about a dozen red-capped hotel runners, each of whom
clamoured for our patronage. They all looked very much alike, the
names on their caps meant nothing to us as we were not familiar with
the Antwerp hotels, and we selected one at random. To our dismay we
discovered, when it was too late, that, whereas most of them had hotel
busses in waiting--into which they leaped and were driven off--our
cicerone was not so provided. He attempted to reassure us by saying
that the Grand Hotel de ---- was close by--a fact that produced the
opposite effect from that intended, as we knew that the immediate
vicinity of a large railroad station is seldom a desirable
neighbourhood.

"However, the other porters were now gone and, unless we were disposed
to sleep in the station, there was nothing to do but follow along. To
our further alarm our guide presently turned into a most
unprepossessing street on which several drinking places were still
open, or were only on the point of closing. Into one of these he led
us. After a short conference with the proprietress, who was sitting
behind the bar counting the day's receipts, he took a candle and a
huge key and led us out into the court, then up a flight of stairs
placed on the outside of the house, and through several narrow
passageways. But for the flickering candle everything was completely
dark, and when he finally ushered us into an immense room with a
mediæval four-post bed in its darkest corner we involuntarily looked
for the trap-door down which the murderous inn-keepers of the stories
were wont to cast their victims.

"Lighting a pair of candles on the mantelpiece from his, and wishing
us a civil '_Bon soir_,' our red-capped guide now left us--to our
great relief. Although we tried to dismiss our fears as childish, we
both felt more insecure and helpless than we cared to admit, even to
each other. None of our friends knew that we were in Antwerp. If we
disappeared they would hardly think to look for us there--and still
less on this shabby street, the very name of which we did not know.

"We barricaded the door against a sudden surprise, inspected the walls
with a candle for signs of the secret door (at the head of the
winding stairway up which the wicked innkeeper so often creeps upon
his prey, according to the chronicles) and at last, the fatigue of the
day overcoming our fears, we slept. It was broad daylight when we
awoke, and the street was alive with people--mostly cartmen and
peasants it seemed. With some difficulty we found our way down to the
room where we had seen the landlady the night before. She greeted us
warmly, our fears of the night had fled--and we sat down and ordered,
and enjoyed, a most excellent breakfast. The hotel was quite a popular
one, we learned, much frequented by people from near-by towns, and we
had never been safer in our lives. Yet, just the same, we both vowed
firmly that 'Never Again' would we take similar chances--and we never
have."

"I have thought of that incident more than once while talking over our
Flemish tour with the Professor," I observed, "and have decided upon
this plan. When we find a hotel that suits us all, as regards
cleanliness, cuisine and safety--or rather the sense of security, for
I daresay we would be safe enough in many that we would hardly care to
patronise--we will stay overnight in whatever town we may chance to be
visiting. If, on the other hand, we have not had time to find such a
place, we'll take a train back to Antwerp or Brussels, where there are
hotels that we know all about. We'll get second-class _billets
d'abonnement_ every two weeks anyway, so the rail trip will only cost
us our time."

"And are Antwerp and Brussels both in Flanders?" inquired Mrs.
Professor. "Between you, you have given me an idea that I should like
to visit Flanders, but you have none of you answered my question as to
where it is."

"I think I can answer you, my dear," replied her husband. "There are,
as you probably know, two little provinces in the northern part of
Belgium called East and West Flanders. The boundaries of the Flanders
of history and of art, however, cover a considerable wider area than
these two provinces. Over in France a considerable part of the
Department du Nord was for centuries subject to the Counts of
Flanders. On the other side, to the eastward, the cities of Antwerp
and Malines were for many centuries independent of the Counts of
Flanders, but their people spoke Flemish, their houses, churches and
town-halls were built in the best style of Flemish architecture, and
they became famous centres of Flemish art and learning. To my mind,
therefore, they both belong to Flanders. Brussels, however, while its
Hotel de Ville and Grande Place are splendid examples of Flemish
architecture, is more French than Flemish, and belongs to the Walloon
or French part of Belgium.

"Now, as the Editor here has proposed a plan which seems to me a good
one as regards our hotels, I will venture to suggest one as regards
our itinerary. It will make comparatively little difference which
towns we visit first, and as some are more closely identified with the
early history of Flanders than the others I propose that we visit
these older towns first. At the time of the Crusades Ypres, for
example, had two hundred thousand inhabitants when the population of
London was less than thirty-five thousand and Antwerp was an obscure
little town. Nieuport and Furnes were, at that time, the chief
seaports of Flanders. Now they are miles from the sea. Dixmude, near
by, was another important city of those olden days. Now all these
places are country villages--'the dead cities of Flanders,' they are
called, and scarcely a tourist from America ever visits them, although
they are fairly familiar to our English cousins.

"If we start our pilgrimage in Flanders with Bruges, which was the
first capital of the County of Flanders, and with these old
towns--all of which are hard by--we can plan our journeys
chronologically, so to speak, visiting first the monuments that date
from the twelfth to the fourteenth centuries, then those of the
fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, and so on. In that way we not only
can keep the little history we know straight, but we can trace with
our own eyes the gradual development of Flemish architecture and art."

This plan was unanimously voted to be a capital one--in theory, at any
rate--and thus it was that in our subsequent wanderings about
Flanders, under the guidance of the indefatigable Professor, we often
crossed our trail, and now and then visited the same place more than
once. In practice it did not accomplish quite all that was expected of
it by its learned originator--but what plan ever does, or ever will?
That it enhanced the interest of the trip manyfold we all agreed; it
often sustained our flagging zeal, and it helped us to know
Flanders--the Flanders of the past especially--far better than we
would have done in any other way.

CHAPTER II

VIEUX BRUGES AND COUNT BALDWIN OF THE IRON ARM

It is not the purpose of this veracious chronicle to recount the
doings and sayings, the incidents or lack of incident, on the voyage
across. Suffice it to say that in due season the good ship _Lapland_
turned its prow away from the white cliffs of Dover and straight
toward the low-lying shores of Flanders. As she crossed the North Sea
scores of fishing boats with brown sails hovered around her, while
throngs of seagulls soared overhead, or now and then dashed madly into
her foaming wake to grasp some morsel flung from deck or porthole, or
fight fiercely with each other for its possession. Presently, in the
haze ahead, a faint outline of land could be distinguished, and soon
we could see through our glasses the heaped up dunes that mark the
battle line between the North Sea and the fertile Flemish polders
behind them. Here and there the shore was strengthened by rows of
pilings to keep the waves of Winter from washing it away. As a
"sight," however, it was dreary and uninviting enough--not at all like
the picturesque headlands of Merrie England we had been looking at
only a few hours before.

Now, for a time, the ship kept its course parallel to the shore, but
at a distance of a mile or more. Gradually the coast became more
inhabited, and soon we could see a row of stone and brick buildings
facing directly on the beach which some one said was Blankenberghe. No
doubt there were other rows of houses behind the first, but either
they were lower, or in the haze our glasses could not distinguish
them. Then the panorama of the Flemish coast unrolled a little further
and we saw the long curved breakwater of Zee-Brugge, with its white
lighthouse. This is an artificial port connected with the ancient
capital of Flanders by a ship canal. Entrance to the canal from the
sea is effected by a large lock which was faintly visible. Another
beach city, Heyst, next appeared--the ship seeming to stand still
while the shoreline marched slowly past. Then came a smaller place,
which from our maps we concluded must be Knocke. Here the coastline of
the present Kingdom of Belgium ends, the little River Zwyn--once
famous as the channel up which one hundred and fifty ships a day made
their way to Bruges in the days of its greatness--forming the
boundary.

The Dutch are apparently not interested in sea bathing, for there were
no more watering places. In fact the whole coast seemed to be dead and
deserted, and we were glad when the _Lapland_ began to turn her prow
inland. We were now in the broad estuary of the Scheldt, and soon the
tiny city of Flushing appeared. It was over on the other side of the
ship and we all scampered across to take our first "near look," as
Mrs. Professor expressed it, of the land we had come to see--for
Flushing belonged for centuries to the great overlords of Flanders,
the Dukes of Burgundy and their successors. It looked very small and
compact from the towering deck of the big liner, but also very quaint
and interesting, and we all agreed that as a sample of what we had
come so far to see it was the reverse of disappointing.

Soon the propellers of the _Lapland_ began to revolve again and the
little Dutch city slowly slipped out of sight in the fast gathering
gloom of a coming shower. As night came on the engines presently came
to rest once more and we anchored to await daylight and flood tide
which, the officers said, would come together. At four o'clock the
following morning the Professor and I were on deck in order to miss as
little as possible of the voyage up the "greyest of grey rivers," as
the Scheldt has been called. The _Lapland_ had started while we were
asleep, and we were already in Belgium. This circumstance disappointed
the Professor not a little as he had set his heart on seeing the
remains of the Dutch forts at the boundary line that for nearly one
hundred and fifty years--from the Treaty of Munster in 1648 to the
French occupation in 1794--closed the river to ocean commerce.
Meanwhile, grass grew in the streets of the all but deserted city of
Antwerp. The French tore down the hated forts and for nearly forty
years the ships from oversea went up the river unmolested. Then came
the Revolution of 1830 and the establishment of the Kingdom of
Belgium, whereupon the Dutch proceeded to impose heavy navigation
duties upon all ships passing through the lower part of the river.
While this did not stifle the trade of Antwerp, it seriously crippled
it, since the duties formed a handicap in the keen competition for
traffic between the Belgian port and those of Holland and Germany
farther to the eastward. It was not until 1863 that the Belgian
Government was able to arrange a treaty whereby all river dues were
abolished in return for the payment of a lump sum of 36,000,000
francs--of which only one-third was paid by Belgium, as other powers
were interested in obtaining freedom of navigation on this important
river and gladly contributed the remainder. The imposing monument by
Winders on the Place Marnix at Antwerp, which was erected in 1883,
commemorates this important event, to which the port owes its present
prosperity.

As the _Lapland_ slowly steamed up the river we could look down from
her lofty decks upon the broad and intensely cultivated plain,
stretching as far as eye could penetrate in the misty distance. Here
and there we could see compact little groups of farm buildings,
usually arranged around a central courtyard and with their outer walls
well-nigh windowless, as if the peasant proprietors still counted on
the possibility of a siege such as their ancestors no doubt often had
to sustain against the wandering marauders and freebooters who for
centuries infested the country. Along every road and canal, and beside
nearly every cross-country path, we could see long lines of trees set
out at regular intervals and cutting the landscape into sections of
varying sizes and shapes. Now and then a little hamlet could be seen,
with its red-tiled roofs nestling close together and a tiny church
steeple rising from the centre. Often the roofs of the houses nearest
to the river were below the top of the high dykes which here enclose
the Scheldt on either side. Close to the banks an occasional fort
commanded the river--outlying links in the great chain of
fortifications that was thought to be impregnable until the huge
German siege guns so quickly battered it to pieces.

Presently some one with a keener vision than the rest cries that the
spire of the Cathedral of Antwerp is in sight and we all crowd forward
and peer eagerly through the mist until at last we make out vaguely
the shape of that marvel of Flemish architecture rising above the flat
plain. At each turn of the river it draws nearer and we can see more
clearly its delicate tracery of lace-work carved in stone, while one
by one other spires loom up through the grey dawn.

The traffic in the river becomes more dense as we proceed slowly
onward--huge red-bottomed tramp steamers with their propellers half
out of the water and churning furiously in a smother of foam, clumsy
canal boats with Flemish or German names lying at anchor close to the
banks, barges with dingy brownish sails and all manner of strange
cargoes. Then, suddenly, we swing around the last turn and the entire
city lies before us, its houses with their high peaks and dormer
windows rising tier above tier, while at the left we catch glimpses
through the lock gates of the vast inner docks with their hundreds of
masts and funnels. Curiously enough the view to the right is entirely
different--the green fields and farmsteads stretching in this
direction from the very edge of the river as far as the eye can see.

But now we are warping up against the Red Star Line pier and all eyes
are gazing down upon the motley crowd that has assembled thus early in
the morning--it is not yet seven o'clock--to welcome the new arrivals
from America. The customs inspection proves to be a mere formality,
half of our trunks and bags are chalk-marked by the obliging inspector
without lifting a tray or disturbing any of their contents. A
commissionaire is waiting to bear them away to the cabs and, after
generously bestowing five cents on this worthy for his trouble, we are
off for the Gare Centrale--for the Madame has decreed that we must all
proceed forthwith to the home of a certain Tante (Aunt) Rosa, not far
from Brussels, where we can get our land legs safely on before
starting on our tour under the guidance of the Professor.

Throughout the morning it has rained heavily at intervals, and as the
_rapide_ for Brussels steams out of the station the grey clouds are
pouring down their contents in torrents. This circumstance disturbs us
not at all, for we have agreed to pursue our course regardless of the
weather and are prepared for anything short of a flood or blizzard.
And right here it may be as well to state that any one who proposes to
travel in Flanders must make up his or her mind to ignore the vagaries
of the weather altogether. At Brussels the weather records show that
it rains more or less during three hundred days in each year, and
while there are many days when the showers are brief, and some periods
when it is clear for several days, it is better to come prepared for
anything. Somewhere in the direction of the English Channel there
seems to exist a vast cloud factory, for day after day one sees the
huge cloud masses rolling slowly eastward or southward across the
country. Usually they are high overhead, with frequent intervals of
brilliant sunshine, and the showers few and far between. At other
times the clouds hang low and dark and the rain falls steadily, not in
furious driving showers such as occur frequently during the summer
time at New York, but with a monotonous continuity that is the
despair of travellers who are equipped only for fair weather. It is no
exaggeration to state that one may look out of his hotel window upon a
cloudless sky and find that by the time he has descended to the street
it is raining. Happily the reverse is equally possible, and frequently
we looked out of the window while at breakfast at pouring rain and
dripping roofs, only to find by the time we were ready to go out of
doors that the shower was over, the sky clear and the sidewalks nearly
dry. It is this rapid alternation of showers and sunshine that makes
Flanders the land of flowers and vegetables, giving the former their
brilliant colouring and the latter their indescribable succulence and
freshness.

Another tip for the would-be traveller in Flanders is to come well
prepared for cold weather even in June, July or August. The nights are
always cool, and the prevailing winds are from the north or the
northwest--the former cold, the latter wet. Many Americans contract
serious colds because they come clad only for hot weather. Warm
underwear, on the other hand, is best for the Flemish summer climate,
with overcoats and wraps for evening wear. Raincoats, it is needless
to say, should be in every suitcase--even for a day's outing, while a
very handy article indeed is a _parapluie-canne_, or umbrella cane,
such as can be purchased in Brussels for ten francs and upwards.

In less than three-quarters of an hour our fleet train was rolling
into the Gare du Nord at Brussels; but Madame was in a hurry, so we
became for the time birds of passage only and in another hour were
already entrained again and speeding toward the steaming dinner that
she assured us la Tante Bosa had awaiting us. Of the reception that we
found when we arrived at last, and of the dinner which was presently
spread before us, there is no need to say more than that the latter
proved to be all that we had been led to anticipate. Served in the
true Belgian style--customary alike in Flanders and in the Walloon
provinces--it occupied our attention for the greater part of the
afternoon, the courses following one another leisurely, with intervals
between during which the men folk strolled about the garden and
smoked. Two days later we started on the Professor's itinerary,
completely refreshed after the fatigue of our voyage; and after a bit
of shopping at Brussels, our pilgrimage into the heart of Flanders
began.

It was a little after noon when we reached the old city of Bruges,
and while we were eating our luncheon the Professor explained
briefly the origin of the city and of the County of Flanders. In
order to understand the kaleidoscopic history of Flanders it is
necessary to forget entirely the Europe of to-day. Throughout the
Middle Ages Europe was sub-divided into hundreds of separate
sovereignties--duchies, counties, principalities large and small,
whose rulers bore a score of titles. These, as a rule, acknowledged
allegiance to some higher prince, while the most powerful yielded
deference only to some King or Emperor. But this allegiance was
usually a very shadowy affair, and the actual government rested
absolutely in the hands of the local Count, or Duke, or whatever else
his title may have been. The history of Flanders is, therefore, in a
sense, the history of its Counts, for as their power waxed or waned
the country itself grew powerful or weak. Gradually, however, the
great cities of Flanders acquired from the earlier and better Counts
rights and privileges that made them, in many respects, sovereign
powers, and the most fascinating and instructive part of the history
of Flanders is the record of the brave struggle made by its burghers
to maintain their liberties in the face of a steadily advancing tide
of tyranny and oppression.

The first Count of Flanders, who won his title and his domains during
the period of storm and stress that followed the breaking up of the
great empire of Charlemagne, was a Flemish chief, called Baldwin of
the Iron Arm. He chanced one day to see Judith, the beautiful daughter
of Charles the Bald, the son of Charlemagne, fell in love with her,
and carried her off for his bride. Judith had been previously married
to Ethelwolf, King of Wessex in England, when he was a very old man;
and had taught her stepson, who afterward became Alfred the Great,
much of his learning. The old King Charles, her father, for a time
opposed the marriage with Baldwin, but finally it was celebrated with
much splendour at Auxerre in 863, and Baldwin was thereupon given the
title of Count of Flanders. On his return, Baldwin built a great
fortress on an island formed by the intersection of the River Roya
with its little tributary, the Boterbeke. This was called the Bourg,
and soon contained within its strong walls the nucleus of the future
city of Bruges.

Mrs. Professor interrupted at this point to ask if the name Bruges was
derived from Bourg, to which our learned friend replied that it was
not, but that most historians ascribed the name to the bridge (in
Flemish, brigge) from the island to the mainland; while some take it
from the purple heather (brugge) which grows plentifully hereabout,
and in August can be seen alongside the railway tracks and in great
clusters by the country roadsides.

The first afternoon's programme was to discover as much as we could of
the old Bourg of Baldwin of the Iron Arm. Not much of it is left in
the Bruges of Albert the First. The Roya still runs where it did in
the days of the first Counts of Flanders, but only along the Dyver, a
terrace of middle-class residences, can it be seen by the tourist.
Since the eighteenth century it has been vaulted over for much of its
course through the city, and the Boterbeke runs through subterranean
channels for the entire distance from where it enters the city limits
to its junction with the Roya at the corner of the rue Breidel. It
flows close to the Cathedral, or possibly beneath it, and directly
under the Belfry, which is built on piles. For part of its course it
runs, like a subway, under the rue du Vieux Bourg. The only building
in modern Bruges that dates from the first Baldwin's time is the crypt
of St. Basil, under the Chapel of the Holy Blood. Here, or assuredly
hard by, the founder of the long line of Flemish Counts, and his
beautiful and talented Countess, no doubt worshipped; and, in the
main, the little chapel probably looks today very much as it did a
thousand years ago. In one corner, apparently outside of the original
outer walls of the structure, the concierge showed us a miniature
model of the ancient castle of the first Counts of Flanders as
archeologists have reconstructed it, with the little Chapel of St.
Basil adjoining it. On the opposite side, and near the entrance, is a
smaller chapel which some authorities state was the one built by old
Iron-Arm, the main structure dating from the middle of the twelfth
century. Be this as it may, here is unquestionably the very oldest
relic of the ancient Bourg and one of the oldest places of worship in
all Flanders.

After our inspection of St. Basil we decided to devote the rest of the
afternoon to tramping around the streets of the Vieux Bourg, or, in
other words, the section of the city within the circle of picturesque
old quays that mark the approximate boundaries of the island-fortress
where the first Counts of Flanders laid the foundations of their
power. To be sure, none of the houses now standing date from a much
earlier period than the fifteenth century, but all were so quaint and
charming that we cared little for the archeologists with their dates,
and felt ourselves transported without an effort to the days when
might made right and the whole world was governed by the simple law
that "he may take who has the power, and he may keep who can." We
little dreamed, as we journeyed about amid these peaceful
surroundings, that within a single month the world was to revert to
the rule of might once more; that, to quote from Kipling's noble poem,
stricken Belgium, and, indeed, all civilisation could say:

"Our world has passed away,
In wantonness o'erthrown.
There's nothing left to-day
But steel and fire and stone.

"Once more we hear the word
That sickened earth of old--
'No law except the sword,
Unsheathed and uncontrolled.'"

CHAPTER III

BRUGES IN THE DAYS OF CHARLES THE GOOD

To those for whom the past possesses elements of romance, of mystery
and of fascination that our more prosaic and orderly modern world
lacks, Bruges offers endless opportunities for enjoyment. To be sure,
the streets are a bit more crowded than they were twenty years ago,
and one sees more frequent groups of people, carrying little
red-backed Baedekers and evidently intent on seeing all the "sights,"
than formerly. But these are evils of which all old travellers
complain, as one compares notes with them at the hotel after the day
is over. One caretaker told us, with evident pride, that thirty
thousand tourists visited Bruges in 1913. If one divides this total by
three hundred and sixty-five, and the result again by the score or
more of places that every tourist wants to see, it will be perceived
that the number in any one place at the same time is not likely to be
excessive. In point of fact our little party was almost invariably
alone, save when we encountered a party of "personally conducted"
travellers rushing at break-neck speed from place to place.

If, after seeing all the "points of interest" enumerated by the
faithful red-coated guide, philosopher and companion above mentioned,
one should stray down one or another of the narrow, crooked streets in
the older parts of the town he is certain to find bits of mediæval
Bruges here and there so well preserved and perfect that if the few
passers-by only wore the picturesque costumes of the olden days the
illusion would be complete. Take, for example, the rue de l'Ane
Aveugle, the Street of the Blind Donkey, with its attenuated sidewalks
along which a tight-rope walker could hardly advance without stepping
off, its roadway too narrow for two blind donkeys to pass abreast, and
its charming archway from the Hotel de Ville to the Maison de l'ancien
Greffe Flamand; or the rue du Poivre, with its tiny one-story houses,
many of them with one room down-stairs and one overhead--the latter
lighted by the quaintest of gable windows--surely we have stepped
backward half a dozen centuries, for nothing like this could have
continued to exist until the prosaic present!

In fact these queer little one-story houses abound in all parts of the
city, and the Madame was constantly darting across the roadway to peer
within whenever she saw a door ajar. She generally returned highly
indignant that any one could think of existing in such narrow
quarters. "I'd as soon live in a tomb!" she exclaimed, nodding in the
direction of one little house which consisted of one room and only
one, being devoid even of the attic room with its customary dormer
window. Inside sat an old lady, gazing tranquilly out of doors and
doing nothing whatever. Indeed, as the Madame pointed out, there was
little enough to do as far as housework was concerned. In the morning
everybody in Flanders washes the stone floors of their living-rooms,
and frequently the sidewalk and out to the middle of the street as
well. This done, the housework for the day is over, except for
preparing the meals. We had hoped to see old ladies by the score
sitting at the doorways making lace, but on only one street--the rue
du Rouleau--did we catch a glimpse of any, and they went indoors as we
approached them. It was only the estaminets that we could inspect
within. Whenever we found what appeared to be an exceptionally old
house that bore the legend "Hier Verkoopt men drank" the Professor
and I often used to go in and order a glass of _Vieux système_, simply
to get a look at the interior. If, as sometimes happened, mijnheer and
his vroue were very accommodating and kind, we summoned the
ladies--despite the fact that the sign without appeared to mean "for
men only"--and together we explored the old house from garret to
cellar.

More than once, as we journeyed about among these delightfully old and
quaint surroundings, the longing to see some one whose costume would,
in a measure, suggest the period when these structures were built came
back to us. "Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Professor, as we sat one afternoon in
a particularly cosy corner of one of the oldest interiors we had yet
seen, "if two or three knights in armour--or in their lovely costumes
of velvet, silk and old lace--would stalk in and sit down at that
table over there it would make the picture complete." We found,
however, one spot in Bruges, dating from the twelfth century, in which
even the costumes were unchanged. This was the Béguinage, close to the
Minnewater and the ancient city ramparts--a city of the past where,
shut off by high brick walls from the noise and bustle of the outer
world, peaceful figures clad in sombre grey and white move noiselessly
about as if the big figures on the calendar read 1114 instead of 1914.

Except for two institutions of the kind in Holland, Belgium is the
only country in Europe in which these Béguinages have survived--all of
them in Flanders. No institution of the present day recalls so vividly
the conditions that existed at the time when Flanders was the name of
a wild marsh country peopled by yet wilder men. In 877 the Emperor
made the title of Count of Flanders hereditary--the oldest title of
the kind in Europe. Baldwin II, son of Baldwin of the Iron Arm and the
beautiful Judith, married Alfrida, the daughter of Alfred the Great.
The second Baldwin was renowned chiefly for his work in fortifying the
towns of Bruges, Ghent, Ypres and Courtrai as a means of protection
against the robber chiefs who still--despite the energetic warfare of
his father--infested this entire region. The necessity for protection
against robbers, and occasional incursions of savage Danes from the
North Sea, caused population to flock speedily into these walled
towns, and thus laid the foundation for the wonderful civic
development of the next four centuries. The son of Baldwin II,
Arnulph--often called Arnulph the Great--continued the policy of
strengthening the cities, and also established or restored nearly a
score of monasteries and convents for the protection of men and women
against the many dangers of that lawless age. The famous chapter of
St. Donatian's at Bruges was one of these, and while the Béguinage
dates from a somewhat later epoch in the town's history, it admirably
exemplifies many of the principles that made these early religious
orders the strongholds, not only of piety in a period of
semi-barbarism, but of learning and civilisation.

[Illustration: BÉGUINAGE BRIDGE, BRUGES.]

The Béguinage at Bruges is much smaller than the famous Grand
Béguinage at Ghent, which so many tourists visit, but is far more
ancient--its arched gateway dating from the thirteenth century and its
gloomy and barn-like chapel from 1605. How old the houses are no one
seemed to know, but probably many of them are older than the chapel.
The little bridge by which one enters its quiet precincts was first
built in 1297, of wood, according to the records, but its present
picturesque stone arches date from 1570--a respectable antiquity, even
for Bruges. We found several of the little houses untenanted for some
reason, but even the empty ones were spotlessly clean. The Béguines
live in small communities or "convents," under the superintendence of
a Lady Superior called "de Juffer"; or in "houses" where two or three
live together. In the convents there are usually about twenty inmates.
Each has her little cell, but these we were not permitted to see. We
did, however, inspect the kitchen and dining-room of one of the
convents--and the large sunny workroom, in which the Béguines were
assembled. Each was chatting aloud as she worked, but whether in
Flemish or Latin we could not tell. On every face there rested the
same expression of absolute peace and quietness, nor did a single one
betray the slightest interest or curiosity at our presence.

In the early annals of Bruges no story is more dramatic than that of
the murder of Charles the Good. It is, in fact, the theme of the great
Flemish novelist Hendrick Conscience's most famous book, _De Kerels
van Vlaanderen_, and has been told by several contemporary
chroniclers. When Charles became Count of Flanders the feudal system
was slowly displacing the anarchy that had resulted from the breakdown
of all centralised government as the Norsemen swept over northern
Europe. Charles was an ardent believer in the new order, but was
opposed in his policy of building up a strong feudal state by the
Karls, a class of free landholders of Saxon descent, who stubbornly
refused to swear allegiance to any feudal over-lord. The greatest of
these was the house of Erembald. Desiderious Hacket, the head of the
family, was Châtelain of Bruges, ranking next to the Count himself;
while his brother Bertulph was Provost of St. Donatian, the principal
ecclesiastical position in the County, and chancellor of the Count.
The head of the feudal lords was Tancmar, Lord of Straten. Between the
powerful houses of Erembald and Straten there was a deadly feud, which
culminated in a challenge to mortal combat delivered to Walter, a
nephew of Tancmar, by Richard de Raeske, a baron allied by marriage to
the house of Erembald.

To the amazement of all Flanders the challenge, delivered in the
presence of Count Charles and all his court, was refused. Walter, whom
the historians call "the Winged Lie," proclaimed that he would fight
only with a free man, and that the Lord of Raeske, by wedding a serf,
had become a serf himself. This was in accordance with a law recently
promulgated by Charles, but the house of Erembald, perceiving that
its very existence was threatened by the charge, fiercely repelled the
accusation and was supported not only by all of the Karls, but by most
of the feudal nobility as well--the latter no doubt fearing lest one
of their own houses might be attainted in a similar manner at any
moment.

The country was plunged into what was virtually civil war, when
Charles was suddenly summoned by his feudal over-lord, the King of
France, to come to his aid at Clermont. On his return, assured of the
King's powerful support, Charles undoubtedly meditated the complete
overthrow of the Erembalds, whom he had steadfastly claimed as his
vassals since "the Winged Lie" had denounced them as serfs. He arrived
at Bruges late in the evening, and early the following day, March 1,
1127, repaired to St. Donatian to hear mass. It was a foggy morning
and the Count went almost unattended. Hardly had he knelt before the
altar when a party of followers of the attainted house of Erembald
swarmed into the church and he was struck down before he had time to
rise, much less to defend himself.

If, in his lifetime, the Count was a dangerous foe to the Erembalds,
in his death he proved to be far more deadly. As his body lay on the
stone floor of the great church, clad in the crimson robe the
chroniclers so often allude to, and surrounded with flaming torches,
the heads of the house hastily consulted as to what was to be done
with it. To inter the body at Bruges would be to risk an outbreak of
popular passion at the murder, and it was decided to secretly convey
it away. This plan was rudely frustrated by a mob of citizens who
forcibly prevented the removal of the body, which was therefore laid
to rest with imposing ceremonies in the very church where the Count
had been assassinated.

Meanwhile the story of the murder spread far and wide, and, in a few
days, a huge host was marching on Bruges from every part of Flanders.
For a time the burghers stood by the Châtelain and the Provost, but
when the city was entered by stratagem and the Erembalds driven back
into the Bourg the mass of the citizens went over to the side of the
avengers. After a short defence the Bourg in turn was captured--its
defenders failing to guard one small gate by which their enemies
entered unopposed--and the remnant of the Erembalds fled into the very
church that had been defiled by their kinsmen's crime, St. Donatian.
Here, for a time, they were left in peace while the victors pillaged
the rich palaces in the ancient Bourg.

The day before the capture of the Bourg Bertulph, the Provost managed
to escape and fled to a little village near Ypres. Here, after
remaining in hiding for some three weeks, he was captured. The next
morning he was brought to Ypres, walking on foot all the way, although
a horse was offered him. That he was going to his death he well knew,
and asked for a priest to whom he confessed. The old man--who had been
"a soft, luxurious prelate," proud and haughty in his days of
power--made his last journey like a martyr. As the prisoner and his
captors neared the gates of the city a great throng came forth to meet
them, beating the Provost with their staves and fists and pelting him
with the heads of fish. Arrived in the market-place he stood amid the
huge jeering throng, not one of whom looked with pity on him, and
there, for his greater shame, he was fastened naked to a cross like a
common thief. On his refusing in a steadfast voice to reveal the names
of any of those implicated in the Count's murder, "those who were
assembled in the market-place to sell fish tore his flesh with their
iron hooks, and beat him with rods, and thus they put an end to his
days."

The news of this tragedy was brought to the little band still being
besieged at St. Donatian and caused great grief and terror. Of the
very considerable army of Erembalds and their partisans who had taken
refuge in the Bourg only thirty now remained, most having been killed,
while some no doubt had escaped. King Louis, with a host of French
knights, had joined the men of Flanders in the attack and it was seen
that further resistance was hopeless. The only terms were instant
surrender or instant death, and as they looked across the country from
the church tower they could see no hope of succour and surrendered.
After keeping them prisoners for a fortnight, Louis directed that all
save one, who was of somewhat nobler lineage than the rest, should be
flung from the tower of the now thrice historic St. Donatian. This
sentence was duly carried out. The cruel soldiers told the condemned
that they were about to receive a proof of the King's mercy and they
remained ignorant of their terrible fate until, one after another,
they stood on the lofty tower overlooking the city for a brief moment
and were then dashed down headlong to the jagged pavement below. The
bodies were denied Christian burial and thrown into a marsh outside of
the city, and it is related that for many years thereafter "no man
after nightfall would willingly pass that way."

The house of Erembald was well-nigh annihilated during this short, but
sanguinary, war. The sole survivor of the band captured in the church
was beheaded by King Louis as soon as he crossed the French frontier,
while most of the great names in the family were heard of in Flanders
no more--some having perished in battle, others in exile. Only one,
Hacket the Châtelain, returned after the cry for vengeance had died
down, was placed on trial for the murder, proved his innocence, and
eventually recovered much of his former power and wealth. The charge
of serfdom was never raised again, and his descendants for many
generations stood high in the rolls of the Flemish nobility.

The church of St. Donatian no longer stands, having been destroyed
during the French Revolution. In the small museum of antiquities in
the Halles adjacent to the Belfry we were shown some stone railings,
carved in imitation of rustic woodwork, that the concierge assured us
had come from the ruins of the famous church. From a painting made in
1710 the student can obtain a fair idea of the appearance of the
structure, which can hardly be said to have been imposing externally.
It stood opposite the Hotel de Ville, and the statue of Van Eyck in
the centre of the little shaded square is said to mark the spot where
Charles the Good fell at the hands of his assassins. The stones with
which the Cathedral was built were carried away, and some of them were
used to build a château a short distance outside of the city.
According to the peasants in the neighbourhood, ill-luck has always
followed those who lived there. If so, the spirit of the murdered
Count would seem to have been as dangerous in the nineteenth century
as it was in the twelfth.

Every morning here at Bruges, and elsewhere throughout our pilgrimage,
the Professor and I sallied forth between five and six o'clock to
explore as many of the by-ways and quaint out-of-the-way corners as we
could before breakfast. The sun rises in Belgium long before five, in
fact it is light as early as three in the summer time, but we found
very few people astir, and those who were up were usually engaged in
the morning scrubbing of floors and sidewalks--a fact that made us
keep pretty much to the middle of the road on these expeditions.
Cleanliness is certainly honoured next to godliness in Belgium, for
this morning ablution of the premises is universal--the big department
stores at Brussels observing the custom as faithfully as the tiniest
_estaminet_ in the remotest hamlet. Every one, rich and poor, performs
this rite, and the tourist could safely eat his breakfast off the
doorstep of any house when it is over. Nor is the rest of the interior
neglected, for every pot and pan that we could see within the little
houses as we passed their doors shone with a lustre that bespoke
perpetual polishing. On the other hand, the good vroue herself, or her
maidservant, was not so clean, and it is in this respect that the
people of Holland are superior, for they somehow manage to keep
themselves as immaculate as their little houses.

It was at Bruges that the Professor had his first experience with the
Belgian species of barber. Instead of the massive reclining chair,
with which all Americans are familiar, one finds in all parts of
Belgium, save the big tourist hotels and resorts, stiff little
arm-chairs with immovable head rests that look as if they could never
serve the purpose for which they are intended. In point of fact they
do fairly well, once one becomes accustomed to them. Razors in
Belgium, however, are almost invariably dull--especially with the lady
barbers who abound in the smaller villages. Avoid these sirens if you
value your skin, for they certainly will slice off a bit of it. On
Sundays and holidays, it appears, their husbands officiate, but week
days the better half does her best to accommodate the public--but her
best is none too good, and the experience is usually a painful one for
the unwary tourist.

The shave over, the barber says, "S'il vous plaît, monsieur," or its
equivalent in Flemish, motioning meanwhile toward a small wash basin
that is placed in front of the chair. To the uninitiated this is
somewhat bewildering, but the professor desires that monsieur will
kindly wash his own face. The ablution performed, he proceeds to rub a
piece of alum over the face, after which he sprays it with perfumed
water, then dries and powders it much in the manner of the American
barber. When one becomes accustomed to this performance--which costs
two to three cents in the villages and five to ten cents in the large
towns--he is apt to prefer it to the American method. Certainly it is
vastly superior to the hot towel torture so deservedly caricatured
some years ago by Weber and Fields. In the smaller villages of the
industrial provinces we found that the first and second class
distinction that one encounters everywhere in Belgium extends even to
the barber's chair. The rough clad workman is simply shaved--a few
fierce scrapes with the razor and it is all over--and is left to wipe
off the remnants of lather as best he can, usually with a red bandanna
handkerchief. For this the charge is only two cents--the alum, the
spraying and the powder being reserved for first-class patrons only.

On our way back to the hotel from these early morning promenades the
Professor and I kept on the look-out for some _patisserie_ where
_brioches_ or _cuches au beurre_ could be had with a pot of coffee.
This formed our usual breakfast for, it may as well be admitted right
now, we did not feel that we could afford the extravagance of a
three-franc breakfast at the hotel. The ladies were ready to join us
by eight o'clock--before that hour it would be useless to look for a
place open for business--and we conducted them to the _patisserie_ we
had discovered. The _brioche_, it may be remarked, is a light spongy
preparation--half cake and half biscuit--while the _cuche au beurre_
is apparently made from a kind of light pie-crust, rolled thin and
built up in several layers with butter between. When served fresh and
hot from the oven the latter is most delicious, but when cold it is as
tough and soggy as a day-old griddle-cake. The usual charge for these
delicacies was five centimes (one cent) each, and as three made a very
substantial meal, and the coffee cost three or five cents per cup, our
total expenditure for four people was less than two francs. If, as
often happened--in addition to getting everything hot and
delicious--we were served on little tables out of doors with a view of
a cathedral or Hotel de Ville thrown in, we felt that we were getting
a very good bargain indeed.

Of the Bruges of Charles the Good the most important existing monument
is the great Cathedral of St. Sauveur, which was rebuilt by him after
having been partially destroyed by fire in 1116, the work being
completed in 1127. Probably very little of the structure as we see it
to-day dates from this period, as the edifice has been enlarged and
restored many times, much of it dating from the fourteenth and part
from the sixteenth century--the era when architecture in Flanders
flourished as never before or since. The tower was begun in 1116,
continued in 1358, and its upper portions added during the last
century, so that nearly eight hundred years elapsed before it was
finally completed in its present form. Many writers speak of this
tower as clumsy and unsightly, but to me it is one of the most
majestic and stately structures in Flanders. At any rate, there is no
other tower like it, and the way in which it lifts its castle-like
mass of tawny brick high above the tiny houses that surround it is
profoundly impressive. The lower part of the tower is Romanesque,
being, no doubt, the portion erected under the supervision of Charles
the Good. The rest is Gothic, if so unecclesiastical a style can be so
denominated.

The interior of St. Sauveur dates in the main from a much later period
than Charles the Good, and as we visited this interesting edifice
several times an account of its later constructions and paintings will
be found in a chapter devoted more particularly to the art treasures
of Bruges. It is not the purpose of this book to weary the reader with
detailed descriptions of this and every other "monument" in Flanders.
For those who are interested in architectural details there are
numerous works written by experts and discussing exhaustively--if not
exhaustingly--every feature of technical importance. Our little party
was not learned and these random jottings will therefore record only
such facts as seemed interesting to the average American visitor. Nor
would it be possible to attempt a detailed account of the pictures and
sculptures, either at St. Sauveur or elsewhere. Many of the great
Flemish churches are literally museums of early Flemish art and a mere
catalogue of their contents would fill many pages. For the most part
the works are of mediocre merit, but nearly every church possesses one
or more masterpieces--which the uninformed visitor can generally
distinguish by the fact that a charge is made to uncover them. At
times this practice becomes a bit annoying, particularly when--in
addition to paying the fee--one has to hunt around for half an hour to
find the sacristan, who may live two or three blocks away; but, after
all, it is the tourist who is under obligation for the privilege of
visiting the churches when they are closed to the general public, and
all the fees in Flanders add only a trifle to the expense account of
one's tour.

In St. Sauveur on the occasion of our first visit we were especially
interested in a curious painting of the Crucifixion located in the
Baptistry and said to be the earliest picture of the famous Bruges
school in existence. The savants assign a date prior to 1400 to this
work, the author of which is unknown.

The name of Charles the Good is also associated with the Church of
Notre Dame, part of the present structure dating from his reign. The
bulk of the edifice was erected during the fourteenth and fifteenth
centuries. The spire was begun in 1440, torn down and rebuilt, being
finally completed nearly a century later. There is a legend that the
architect, in despair over the fact that it leans considerably to the
east, threw himself from its summit. At present it is one hundred and
twenty-two metres in height, which is said to be the greatest
elevation ever attained by a structure of this kind built of brick. It
can hardly be described as beautiful, the dark red of the top portion
being out of harmony with the rich tawny grey of the lower part, but
it forms a splendid feature in the sky-line of the city. Perhaps the
most charming view of it is that obtained from the opposite side of
the Lac d'Amour. Another excellent point of view is from the Dyver
with the outline of the tower, reflected in the still waters of the
Roya.

The interior of this church is, like the tower, built of brick, only
the great supporting pillars being of stone. The general effect of
the interior is greatly marred by a wooden rood-loft that separates
the nave from the choir. In this church there is an interesting
"Adoration of the Magi" by Daniel Seghers, a painter of the later
Antwerp school, who became a Jesuit but continued to practise his art
and was especially renowned for the flowers and butterflies with which
he adorned his pictures. This work, which was finished in 1630, is
thought by many to be the artist's masterpiece. Another notable
treasure is the statue of the Virgin and Child by Michael Angelo,
executed in 1503.

[Illustration: TOMB OF MARIE OF BURGUNDY, CHURCH OF NOTRE DAME,
BRUGES.]

The most famous of the possessions of Notre Dame, however, are the
superb tombs of Charles the Bold and his daughter Marie of Burgundy,
to be seen only by paying a small fee to enter the chapel in which
they are placed. That of Marie is the older, and by far the finer of
the two, and consists of a sarcophagus of black marble upon which
rests a life-sized recumbent figure of the famous princess--"the
greatest heiress in Europe"--who died at the age of twenty-five as a
result of an injury received when hunting in 1482, less than five
years after her marriage to Maximilian who later became Emperor. At
the command of her son, Philip the Handsome, this masterpiece of
stone and bronze was begun by Pierre de Beckère in 1495 and completed
in 1502. Around the altar-tomb are exquisitely carved statues of
saints and angels, with twining plants and scrolls and the heraldic
shields of all the provinces and not a few of the cities within
Marie's wide domains. The figure of the princess lies above all this
with her hands folded as if in prayer, a crown upon her head and two
hounds lying at her feet. The bronze has been cunningly carved to
represent the finest lace and richly gilded until it seems to be pure
gold. The body of Charles the Bold was brought from Nancy in 1550 at
the command of Charles the Fifth, his grandson, and eight years later
the funeral monument was begun by order of Philip II. It was completed
in 1562, and is designed in imitation of that of Marie. The figure of
"the terrible Duke" is shown clad in armour, with his helmet at one
side and a lion crouching at his feet.

"Here, in this little chapel," said the Professor, "one can see the
beginning and the end of the most interesting period in the long
history of Bruges, the alpha and omega of her greatness. At the time
of Charles the Good the little Bourg on the Roya was slowly emerging
from obscurity and beginning to assume the aspect of a great capital.
For three hundred and fifty years its power and fame grew until 'the
Venice of the North' was everywhere recognised as one of the most
beautiful and brilliant cities in the world. Then suddenly, almost
within the span of a single generation, the fickle sea abandoned it
and it became the quiet inland city that it is to-day, living largely
upon the memories of its splendid past. When the beautiful Marie was
brought home to the Princenhof, dying from her fall at Wynandael, the
decline had already begun, and when the remains of her father were
placed beside her here in Notre Dame the end had already come and the
city's merchants and prosperity had departed."

CHAPTER IV

HOW BRUGES BECAME "THE VENICE OF THE NORTH"

After the murder of Charles the Good had been so thoroughly avenged,
the King of France sought to foist one of his own underlings upon the
people of Flanders, but they would have none of him, and he fell
fighting before the gates of one of the Flemish cities. Dierick of
Alsace was the popular hero and became Count on the death of this
rival. The King of France sought once more to interpose, but the
burghers of Bruges retorted proudly: "Be it known to the King and to
all princes and peoples, and to their posterity throughout all time,
that the King of France hath no part in the election of a Count of
Flanders."

Of all the Counts of Flemish blood Dierick proved to be the greatest
and the wisest who ever ruled over the land. During his long reign of
forty years (from 1128 to 1168) and that of his son, Philip of Alsace,
who ruled until 1191, the country prospered and grew rich. Both
princes encouraged commerce, industry and the arts, and were liberal
in their policy toward the cities. It was during this Golden Age of
Flemish history--the longest period of happiness the country ever
knew--that municipal charters were granted to the cities of Bruges,
Ghent, Ypres, Furnes, Gravelines, Nieuport, Dunkerque and Damme.

While the memory of Dierick of Alsace deserves to be fondly cherished
by the people of Flanders as that of a wise and liberal ruler, his
most famous exploit was bringing back the relic of the Precious Blood
from Jerusalem. Like most princes of his time, Dierick joined in the
Crusades, but, unlike many of them, he left his government so strong
and secure that no harm came to the country during his absence. It was
the second Crusade, and Dierick departed in 1147, and returned in
1150, bringing with him this relic, a portion of the most precious
possession of the Holy Church of Palestine, consisting of a small
crystal vial filled with what was alleged to be the blood of Christ,
preserved by Joseph of Aramathea who prepared the body for burial.
Deeming himself unworthy to bear so holy a relic, the Count entrusted
it to his chaplain, who never parted with it until the returning
crusaders delivered it to the chaplains of the court who placed it in
the chapel built by Baldwin of the Iron Arm, where it still remains in
its original receptacle.

On the 2nd of May every year from 1303 until now--save for a brief
interruption during the stormy times of the French Revolution--the
city of Bruges has celebrated its possession of this holy relic by the
great Procession of the Holy Blood. At first simply a religious
ceremony, the procession gradually took on spectacular features such
as the Flemings love, including representations of the Apostles, the
Nativity, King Herod, and so on. At present _La Noble Confrerie du
Precieux Sang_, or Honourable Society of the Holy Blood, is a very
wealthy and aristocratic organisation, even its affiliated members--of
whom there are several thousands, of every nationality--esteeming
their connection with it a great honour.

During the French Revolution mobs stripped the chapel of everything
that could be torn down or broken, leaving it such a wreck that the
municipal authorities were considering tearing it down, but were
happily prevented from doing so by Napoleon. The lower chapel was,
however, used as a jail for drunken and disorderly persons--and even
as a pound for stray dogs--until 1818. The upper chapel meanwhile was
roofless and windowless, a sad wreck of so ancient and famous a
structure. Both have since been restored, the lower--or Chapel of St.
Basil--being now just as it was in 1150, and, in the opinion of many
critics, "the most beautiful and perfect specimen of Romanesque
architecture in Europe." We had already inspected the lower chapel
while exploring the Vieux Bourg of Baldwin of the Iron Arm our first
day at Bruges, but had not spent much time in the upper one. Here the
most interesting object was naturally the chasse, or casket,
containing the holy relic after which the chapel is named. This is on
one side of the little museum of the chapel and is of silver-gilt,
standing four feet, three inches high. It was made in 1617 by a
silversmith of Bruges and, while not regarded as a masterpiece of its
kind, is very graceful and elegant. The chapel itself is richly
decorated and has some excellent stained glass windows, all of this
work dating from the middle of the last century.

Adjoining the Chapelle du Saint-Sang is the Hotel de Ville. This
structure is a very fine example of Flemish municipal architecture,
dating from the last quarter of the fourteenth century. Here the
Counts of Flanders formerly took the oath to respect the rights and
privileges of the city, this formality taking place in the last window
to the right. Originally there were statues of former princes on the
façade and six of these were coloured by Jean Van Eyck in 1435. All
were destroyed during the Revolution. Part of the interior is still
used by various government officials, while up-stairs the tourists
usually visit the ancient Salle Echinivale, or Council Chamber. This
was restored in 1895 and decorated with a series of twelve mural
paintings representing notable scenes in the history of the city. Of
these eleven are by Albrecht de Vriendt, and the last by his brother,
Julian, the first artist dying just before his work was completed. As
these pictures form an interesting epitome of the history of the city,
the subjects are given herewith:

1.--Return of the Brugeois from the Battle of the Golden
Spurs at Courtrai in 1302.

2.--Foundation of the Order of the Golden Fleece by
Philip of Burgundy at Bruges in 1430.

3.--Dierick of Alsace bringing the Holy Blood to the
chapel of St. Basil in 1150.

4.--The interior of the ancient Hospital of St. Jean.

5.--Magistrates of Bruges renewing the privileges of the
Hanseatic League.

6.--Count Philip of Alsace granting a charter to Bruges
(1190).

7.--Magistrates visiting the Studio of Jean Van Eyck
(1433).

8.--The printing by movable type in Bruges by Jean
Britto in 1446.

9.--Count Louis of Maele laying the foundation of the
Town-hall (1376).

10.--Jacob Van Maerlant, father of Flemish poetry, born
at Damme.

11.--The Free-fair.

12.--Opening of the new Zwyn canal in 1404.

[Illustration: _Palais du Franc, Bruges_]

One of the most interesting of the almost innumerable mediæval
buildings in Bruges is the Palais du Franc which, with its many quaint
turrets and gables, overlooks the fish market on the Quai Vert. The
associations and history of this sumptuous bit of sixteenth century
architecture date from the twelfth century--1190 to be exact--when
Philip of Alsace granted a charter to the region stretching to the
northward from the city to the sea, and from Aardenburg (now just
across the Dutch frontier) to Dixmude. This wide tract of territory
was called the Franc or Liberty of Bruges, and comprised ninety-one
parishes and the towns of Ostende, Blankenburghe, Eccloo, Lissweghe,
Aardenburg, Sluys and Dixmude. Of these only the first two are known
to the tourists of the present day, while one must needs search the
map very closely to find one or two of the others at all, but in the
time of Philip all were busy centres of trade and industry. This was
the hereditary land of the Karls, whose revolt against the attempt of
Charles the Good to force them under the feudal yoke cost that monarch
his life.

The charter was called the _Keurbrief_ and laid the foundation for the
administration of a code of justice that, rude as it was, meant
liberty for those who otherwise would have been utterly at the mercy
of any feudal lord or wandering knight. It was the _Magna Carta_ of a
large part of the Count's dominions and even its stern eye-for-eye and
life-for-life doctrine was tempered by equivalents in cash that might
be paid. The life of a Karl was worth twice as much as that of a monk
or priest, while for each injury there was an appropriate fine. He who
broke a dyke must lose the hand that did the damage, besides
forfeiting all his goods; for false weights the penalty was a fine of
three livres for each offence. Fencing one's property against game
entailed branding with a red hot iron, or trial by the Count--who
might confiscate the goods of the guilty party, but his life and
liberty were to be safe. This cruel game law was not repealed for
nearly three centuries, and must have entailed much hardship. On the
whole, however, the charter was liberal for its day, and the country
under it flourished exceedingly--a sure evidence of wise laws.

The Keurbrief was administered by the Magistrates of the Franc in the
Palais du Franc, which was therefore a sort of special court. The
present edifice is not the one erected by Philip, or used by him for
the purpose, but dates from the early part of the fifteenth century.
Part of it is still used as the Palais de Justice, but that part of
the present structure is for the most part modern. The most
interesting portion of the edifice, and the only one shown to
tourists, is the Court Room containing the magnificent Cheminée du
Franc, or chimney-piece, erected in honour of the Ladies' Peace
negotiated by Margaret of Austria while Regent of the Netherlands in
1529. The work was executed from designs by Lancelot Blondeel, a
painter of Bruges, and was completed in 1530. The fireplace itself is
of black marble, surmounted by a frieze in white marble containing
four bas-reliefs representing the history of the chaste Suzanne. One
cannot but wonder what was the connection of thought that suggested
this story in conjunction with the commemoration of the Treaty of
Cambrai, but at all events here it is. The reliefs are of varying
excellence, the one showing Suzanne about to be seized by her aged
admirers being very sharp and clear, while the fourth which shows the
culprits being stoned to death is rather indistinct.

The upper part of the monumental chimney is of oak and occupies almost
the entire side of the room. In the centre stands Charles V,
represented as a Count of Flanders, nearly life size and finely
carved. At his right are statues of Maximilian and Marie of Burgundy,
and at the left Ferdinand of Aragon and Isabella of Castile--these
being the Emperor's ancestors on his father's and mother's sides
respectively. On the throne behind the Emperor are the busts of Philip
the Handsome and Joanna of Spain, his father and mother, and below
these are the portraits in small medallions of Charles de Lannoy, who
won the victory of Pavia where Francis I, the King of France, was
captured, and Margaret of Austria, who negotiated the treaty. As the
last mentioned portrait is almost invisible in the shadow of the
Emperor it hardly seems as though the chimney-piece does justice to
the loyal and talented woman whose successful diplomacy the entire
work is intended to commemorate. As an example of sixteenth-century
wood-carving, however, and as a most important historical monument,
this chimney-piece is by no means the least interesting of the many
things to be seen at Bruges.

[Illustration: THE BELFRY, BRUGES.]

Unlike most tourists, the Professor seemed to be in no hurry to
inspect the famous Belfry, although we had passed it a score of times
during our stay. Facing the Grande Place, and towering three hundred
and fifty-three feet into the air, it could not be overlooked, while
its loud chimes--which rang every quarter of an hour, and can be heard
for many blocks around--insured that it could not be forgotten.
Moreover, we more than once took our evening meal at a little
restaurant just across the Place from it and saw its graceful
octagonal parapet on one occasion outlined against the fast-flying
grey clouds of a summer storm and the next day against the blue sky of
one of the few perfect June days it was our fortune to enjoy. "Too
soon," he said, in answer to our inquiring glances--"the Belfry
belongs to the period of Bruges' splendour, while the buildings we
have seen thus far date from the formative period when she was still
little more than a fortress on a marsh."

The original structure dates from the very early Counts of
Flanders--possibly from the time of the first Baldwin--but was
practically destroyed by a fire in the year 1280. It was then that the
present edifice was begun, at a period when the commercial and
industrial importance of the city was already very great. The city's
seal and archives were stored in a strong room within the belfry
walls, where four wrought iron doors secured by ten locks and ten keys
guarded them against abstraction by the emissaries of some Count who
might desire to curtail the privileges of the city. Eight of these
keys were kept by the deans of the eight leading guilds--the butchers,
bakers, shoemakers, tailors, weavers, brokers, carpenters and
blacksmiths--who thus virtually controlled the government. This room
the Professor desired to see above all else in the old structure. We
found the four wrought iron doors, but the archive chamber no longer
contains archives or the city's seal. It was a most interesting old
room, nevertheless, and one that ought to particularly interest the
builders of the elaborate burglar-proof and earthquake-proof vaults
that extend below so many great banking houses in America. Alas!
neither the four doors nor the ten locks rendered this ancient
strong-room for the protection of the city's liberties proof against
the cunning and power of tyrants, and the precious charters it once
held were gradually taken away, despite the stout handiwork of one
Erembald, blacksmith, who received eighty-one pounds for forging the
doors in the year 1290.

To reach the bells one mounts a steep, dark staircase which is said to
contain four hundred and two steps, although we did not count them.
The chimes are claimed to be the finest in Europe, and comprise
forty-nine bells weighing in the aggregate fifty-six thousand, one
hundred and sixty-six pounds. They were cast by George Dumery in 1743
and are noted for their soft tone. The _tambour_ which operates the
chimes that ring every quarter of an hour weighs nineteen thousand,
nine hundred and sixty-six pounds and is pierced by thirty thousand,
five hundred square holes in which are fixed the pegs that pull the
strings commanding the hammers hanging outside the bells. By altering
the position of these pegs the tunes can be varied, but the programme
played while we were in the city was as follows:

At the hour: "Rondo, 15th sonata," by Mozart; at the quarter past: "Le
Carillon de Dunkerque," a popular air; at the half: "The Day of
Happiness," by Mozart; at the three-quarters past: "The Three
Drummers," a Flemish popular air. The official bell-ringer is M. Toon
Nauwelaerts, a native of Lierre, where his ancestors have been
bell-ringers for more than a hundred years. Although a young man, M.
Nauwelaerts won an international competition of bell-ringers organised
by the city of Bruges in 1911.

The view from the summit of the Belfry is one of the most superb in
Flanders, especially if the visitor is so fortunate as to have fallen
on one of those days when the clouds roll in great fleecy masses of
dazzling white that form a wondrous background for the grim grey tower
of St. Sauveur and the tapering red spire of the cathedral. As one
looks down upon the sea of tiny red-roofed houses far below he is
transported in fancy to the time, centuries ago, when watchmen peered
off across these very parapets day and night to sound the alarm of an
approaching foe, or announce the approach of their mighty Count or
some noble visitor. In so doing he can realise what the old Belfry has
meant to the city on the Roya. "For six hundred years," wrote M.
Gilliodts, one of the city's learned archivists, "this belfry has
watched over the city of Bruges. It has beheld her triumphs and her
failures, her glory and her shame, her prosperity and her gradual
decay, and, in spite of so many vicissitudes, it is still standing to
bear witness to the genius of our forefathers, to awaken alike
memories of old times and admiration for one of the most splendid
monuments of civic architecture which the Middle Ages have produced."

The best time of all in which to study and admire the external aspect
of this noble structure is when the sun is sinking to rest and its
rays fall slantingly across the sombre pile of tawny brick, touching
up its projections here and there with high lights that contrast
sharply with the deep shadows behind them, and listen--as did so often
our poet Longfellow--to the wonderfully sweet chimes as they ring the
quarter hours:

"Low and loud and sweetly blended,
Low at times and loud at times,
And changing like a poet's rhymes
Ring the beautiful wild chimes
From the Belfry in the market
Of the ancient town of Bruges."

The Halles themselves, of which the Belfry is the chief ornament, are
notable for their considerable size, forming a rectangle one hundred
and forty-three feet broad and two hundred and seventy-six feet deep.
The archeological museum in one wing--which is in course of removal
to the Gruuthuise Palace--enabled us to see the interior of the
structure, the extent of which indicates the volume of business that
was transacted there when Bruges was known as "the Venice of the
North." The great commercial activity of Bruges during the period of
its prosperity, from the twelfth to the fifteenth centuries, was due
primarily to the fact that the Counts of Flanders decreed that it
should be the sole port of entry for the entire country. The burghers
quickly perceived the priceless value of this privilege, and by their
enterprise and liberality made the city the foremost metropolis in
Europe in the volume and variety of its international trade. With
London its relations were especially intimate and cordial, each city
granting to the merchants of the other privileges that in those days
were almost unheard of. For example, the merchants of Bruges in time
of war were granted forty days of grace in which to dispose of their
property and provide for their personal safety. On one occasion, while
a war was actually going on, they were given a special truce of ninety
days in which to traffic freely with the subjects of the King of
England. The reason for these unusual favours was that Bruges was the
great market where the wool of England, on which the prosperity of
the country depended, was disposed of. Not infrequently the archives
record instances where the Kings of England treated with the chief
magistrates of Bruges on terms of complete equality, as if with a
sovereign power.

Nor was England the only country represented in the market places of
Bruges during this period. The Doges of Venice often treated directly
with the Burgomasters of the Italian city's Flemish rival, while the
powerful Hanseatic League established here their chief establishment
for the Netherlands. The list of the "Nations," as the groups of
foreign merchants were called, makes curious reading at the present
day. There were English, Scotch, French, Lusitanians, Castilians,
Venetians, Genoans, Florentines; merchants from Aragon, Biscay, Lucca,
Milan, Lombardy and Navarre. The German merchants from the Hanseatic
towns of Lubeck, Hamburg, Cologne, Dantzig and Bremen numbered no less
than forty houses in the year 1362, while the Italian and Spanish
firms resident in the city were still more numerous. Many of these
concerns were among the foremost trading and banking houses of the
Middle Ages, with mercantile transactions extending into every part of
the known world and strong enough financially to loan money to
princes. When the Duke of Pembroke was captured by Du Guesclin in the
Hundred Years' War between England and France it was in Bruges that
his countrymen borrowed the seventy thousand pounds demanded as
ransom.

As befitted the first mercantile city in the world, business methods
were more advanced at Bruges than anywhere else. It is claimed that
the first insurance policies ever drawn up were devised and signed in
Bruges about the year 1300. A form of registration of land titles was
in use there as early as the fifteenth century. Its Bourse, or central
exchange for merchandise of all kinds, is claimed to have been the
first ever established.

In a single day in the year 1456 no less than 150 foreign vessels
arrived at Bruges through its canals and the River Zwyn, and while
these were, of course, small craft as compared to those of the present
day there was then no port in the world that could boast of an equal
quantity of shipping. Industrially, the town was no less important,
having some fifty thousand artisans belonging to fifty-two different
guilds.

The silting up of the Zwyn, rendering the approach and departure of
shipping difficult and uncertain, started a downward movement that
in less than a century destroyed all of this great activity and
prosperity. Had it come alone it is probable that the sturdy merchants
of Bruges would have found a way to overcome this adverse factor to
their continued success, either by digging a new channel to the sea or
by dredging, but misfortunes--as is their proverbial wont--did not
come singly. In 1488, as a result of a conflict between the city and
Maximilian, the stores and exchanges were closed for three months and
all business came to a standstill. Seven years later it was said that
nearly five thousand houses stood vacant and abandoned, no one caring
either to buy or rent them. One by one the great merchants of the city
closed their counting-rooms and went away; one by one the artisans
departed. The last of the "Nations" to desert the declining city was
the Hanseatic League, which stood by it loyally until 1516, when it
removed its offices to Antwerp, by that time the acknowledged
metropolis of the North.

[Illustration: THE MINNEWATER, BRUGES.]

The Minnewater, or Lac d'Amour, is--apart from its exquisite
beauty--of interest as another memento of the city's former commerce.
This was the chief harbour for shipping, and, no doubt, was thronged
with sailing craft, while its banks must have swarmed with merchants
checking their arriving or departing cargoes, stevedores carrying
bales and boxes to and fro, clumsy wagons and carts for transporting
merchandise to the warehouses of the city and all the varied noise and
bustle of a great seaport. It is strangely silent and deserted now,
and the grass grows tall around the round tower built in 1398 by Jan
van Oudenaarde, and the white swans float slowly and majestically
beneath the black arches of the adjoining bridge which is eight years
older than the tower. It is said that he, or she, who stands on the
central arch of this bridge at midnight and expresses a desire will
have the wish fulfilled, but we did not try it. Before leaving this
charming spot, however, we went along the banks of the little lake to
a point where, looking back, we had the round tower and the bridge in
the middle distance, the lake in the foreground, and the towers of the
city on the horizon. This view is, without doubt, the finest the old
town affords.

The visitor to Bruges who is interested in the past should devote at
least half a day to a pilgrimage to Damme, distant about an hour's
walk along the canal that leads from the new port of Bruges to the
sea. In 1180 this now all but forgotten town was made an independent
commune with two burgomasters, and for two centuries thereafter it
enjoyed a great and increasing prosperity. It became the chief
entrepôt for the great commercial city of Bruges during its period of
splendour, and most of the leading merchants maintained offices there.
Its warehouses were crowded with merchandise from every corner of
Europe--wines from France and Spain, beer from England, wool from
Scotland, silk from Italy, all manner of cloths and stuffs, spices of
all kinds, metals of every variety known to the metal workers of those
days, rare and precious goods of every description.

To-day the very scene of all this mercantile activity has vanished.
Gone are the busy warehouses, the docks and wharves, even the very
harbour in which--according to ancient chroniclers--a score of ships
of the largest size then built could anchor easily. All that remains
is a diminutive Grande Place surrounded by several ancient edifices,
and the ruins of a huge church. In the centre of the Place is a modern
statue of Jacob van Maerlant, called "the Father of Flemish Poets."
Fame has surely never played any more astounding trick than that out
of the great host who lived in this busy commercial town in the days
of its prosperity--portly burgomasters, skilled in winning the
plaudits of the populace; shrewd, far-sighted merchants grown rich
from the commerce with distant lands; skilled artisans and craftsmen
in a hundred guilds--all, all are forgotten, while an obscure poet,
whom very likely many of those who knew him derided as a fool, is
alone remembered as the one great man of Damme.

Facing the Grande Place is the ancient Hotel de Ville, which, in
addition to being the most notable monument of the dead town, is also
an estaminet where the living can get a little refreshment. The main
floor of this edifice is divided into three large rooms. The first one
is the estaminet, with its array of bottles and its beer pump
contrasting most incongruously with the remaining vestiges of its
ancient grandeur.

Adjoining this is a large, irregular and unfurnished room, bare of
ornamentation save for two corbels, or Gothic brackets, which support
the main rafters of the ceiling. These are of wood, elaborately
carved. One represents Van Maerlant in his study, seated at a desk,
with what M. Havard calls a "chaste Suzanne" bathing in a tub over his
head. The other shows King David with his harp, and is embellished
with sundry other figures.

The remaining room is by far the most interesting, for it was here
that Charles the Bold publicly betrothed Margaret of York. The room,
which is officially termed the _Salle des Délibérations_, or Council
Hall, has a fine old fireplace said to have been restored during the
seventeenth century. It is decorated with two female figures in hoop
skirts and bears the motto "_Parcere subjectis et debellare
superbos_." This quotation from Vergil (Æneid 6:853) sounds rather
pompous and out of place in the council chamber of this now completely
vanquished and ruined city, and must have seemed so even in the
seventeenth century, but it may have been a survival of an inscription
placed over the original fireplace in the days when Damme dared to
close its gates even against the men from Bruges itself, and the
puissant Counts of Flanders had to use force to compel it to open
them.

It was in the year 1468 that this room in which we are now standing
had its one great day and became, for a brief space, the setting of
one of those splendid mediæval scenes that bards and novelists so
fondly recall, and that--in our age of up-to-date inventions--the
moving-picture men are so busily reconstructing and re-enacting. The
Princess had landed at Sluys, near the mouth of the River Zwyn, where
the Duke of Burgundy paid her a brief visit in secret--possibly to see
what she looked like, for this was a marriage of state and intended to
further his far-reaching ambitions. Probably if she had been as homely
as a witch the wedding would have taken place just the same, but as
the reverse was the case the preliminary inspection must have been
very gratifying. The following day the royal lady and her company rode
to Damme in a fleet of barges gorgeously decorated with gold, rich
velvets and rare silks. Here she was lodged in this very Council
Chamber of the Hotel de Ville, and here the Duke came in great state
to perform the public ceremony of betrothal. The wedding ring was
given in the presence of the English Bishop who had accompanied the
Princess, and Charles announced that he would await her presence on
the morrow at Bruges, where the wedding itself was to be celebrated in
the Cathedral.

The wedding procession as it departed for Bruges the next day must
have been another brave sight for the proud citizens of Damme. The
bride, reclining in a litter borne by four white horses, wore a
magnificent gown of cloth of gold, a crown on her forehead, a jewelled
necklace, and a mantle clasped with precious stones. Around her
pranced her ladies of honour, mounted on white horses gaily bedecked
with crimson satin. Immediately behind this picturesque group came
five decorated chariots bearing a score of beautiful ladies from the
English court, and following these came the guard of honour, or
escort, provided by the Duke--a squadron of counts, barons and
knights, with their faithful squires, their horses covered with gold
and silver, the riders resplendent in bright coloured velvet and rich
lace. The good people of the Middle Ages dearly loved a pageant, and
this surely was one to rejoice the heart of every citizen of Damme,
for here was the pride of the chivalry of all Europe--fair ladies and
brave men from oversea and from every corner of the great Duke's wide
dominions--thronging the Grande Place as the procession formed, and
then falling into their respective places as the long line passed out
through the city gate and proceeded on the straight, tree-lined
_grande route_ that led to Bruges.

CHAPTER V

DIXMUDE AND FURNES

The tourist who desires to get away from the main thoroughfare of
European travel, to explore out-of-the-way corners, and discover for
himself wonders and beauties that the learned Mr. Baedeker never heard
of, cannot do better than to turn away to the westward from the great
Ostende-Brussels express route and visit the all but forgotten cities
of Dixmude, Furnes and Nieuport. All but forgotten, that is, in June,
1914. The world has heard of them since, and it will be many hundreds
of years before it forgets them again! These little places, which when
we visited them were nothing but sleepy and quiet country towns, were
great and prosperous cities in the period when Bruges was slowly
rising toward its zenith, and the Professor therefore decreed that
they must come next on our itinerary. We accordingly spent an evening
studying the _correspondences_, or connections, of the State Railway
and the _chemin de fer vicinal_, or local steam tramway, and started
at daybreak the next morning.

Right here it may be said that the Belgian State Railway did its best
to compensate us for whatever shortcomings we found in the weather or
in the country generally. Perfect its service can hardly be said to
have been, but it was excellent and amazingly cheap. Our party
purchased every two weeks _billets d'abonnement_ that cost us just
forty-one francs each, or about $8.00, and entitled us to ride on any
State-owned railway line in the country day or night for fifteen days.
These were second-class, the third costing twenty-three francs, and
first sixty francs. The last, by the way, is a useless luxury, as on
the local lines the first-class compartments are identical with the
second-class except for a white tidy placed at the back of the
cushions. Frequently there was not even the tidy, but the sign,
"_Reservé_--_Voorbehouden_," converted an ordinary second-class
compartment into first-class--a distinction that gave the traveller
very little for his money, save the privilege of riding alone.

On the main express routes that radiate outward from Brussels in every
direction there were a number of _rapides_, or fast express trains,
that made very good time indeed--a speed of a kilometre per minute
being about the average. On the international express trains, some of
which are first-class only, the speed was somewhat higher, but these
we never had occasion to use. After the _rapides_ came the express
trains, generally marked "_direct_" or "_semi-direct_," according to
whether or not they made any intermediate stops before reaching their
final destination. These were only moderately fast, and, if they did
stop anywhere, lingered so long that the time gained by their previous
speed was largely lost. Then came the type of local train called
_omnibus_ or _ordinaire_, that stopped at every station. To the
American these trains would seem astoundingly slow, even for a land
that is never in a hurry. Each stop is dragged out, minute after
minute, until it seems certain that either a terrible accident must
have occurred ahead, or the train crew has gone on strike. Actually,
more than once, we did see part of the crew returning from an
estaminet hard by whither they had gone to have a friendly glass.
Finally, however, the red-capped station master blows his whistle and
the train reluctantly pulls away. To make a trip of sixty kilometres
(forty miles) by one of these trains took, on more than one occasion,
two hours and a quarter, and the train arrived on time!

This last point is a feature of the Belgian railway trains. They are
almost invariably on time, and lateness is a matter for strict
examination on the part of the officials and severe penalties for
those responsible. However, there does not seem to be much credit
attached to being on time when the schedule allows for a stop of from
two to fifteen minutes at each station. The man primarily responsible
for the movement of the trains is not the conductor or engineer but
the _chef de gare_, or station-master. He, or his deputy if the
station is a large one with many trains, must be on hand when each
train pulls in, and give the signal for its departure. His dark-red
cap, embroidered with gold braid, is therefore in evidence at every
station, and until this high functionary gives the word no train
moves. As it is, each leaves exactly on time--but not a second before,
no matter if every passenger has been in place and the doors slammed
and fastened for the last five minutes!

The foregoing description of the Belgian State Railway refers, of
course, to the service as it existed down to the end of July. Since
then the destruction of tracks, bridges and tunnels by one army or
another has put most of the system out of operation. One of the
saddest phases of the war is that every one of the thousands of
employés of the Belgian State Railway--from the highest supervising
official to the humblest track walker--was working faithfully and
efficiently, and planning the future of his frugal life, upon the
assurance that promotion and an old-age pension would reward his zeal.
This obligation toward its employés the Belgian Government has ever
faithfully observed, and in the course of our travels we met many
middle-aged men who told us that they were looking forward to the day
when their terms of duty would end and they would be pensioned on half
pay to enjoy a few years of well-earned repose. Probably not one of
these men ever seriously dreamed that an event could occur that would,
in the course of a few swift weeks, blot out the record of his life
work, and deprive him of all opportunity for promotion, for pension,
and even for employment. No doubt the death toll of the battles on the
plains of Flanders has been heavy among these courteous, capable and
industrious men--many of whom were liable for military service in time
of war--but let us hope that peace, when it comes, will bring to each
survivor his old post again, with the old good service record
unforgotten, and that he will receive the pension he rightfully
expects and that his country would gladly give--at last.

To those who enjoy rambling through the byways of history there is no
town richer in associations, yet less spoiled by the visits of the all
but ubiquitous tourist, than Dixmude. At present this little city is
situated fifteen miles from the sea, yet all the ancient chroniclers
aver that prior to the thirteenth century it was a seaport with a
commerce overseas and a not inconsiderable fishing fleet. As one looks
across the miles and miles of pleasant fields, interspersed with
waving windmills and tiny villages, this part of the ancient city's
history seems utterly incredible, but it is too well authenticated to
be disputed. Ten times, so the histories tell us, Dixmude was besieged
and bravely defended by its citizens. More than once it was destroyed
by fire and rebuilt, but at last the blight that destroyed the
prosperity of its larger and more powerful neighbours, Ypres, Bruges
and Ghent, struck at the heart of its industries as well and it sank
by imperceptible degrees into its long sleep.

Like the abode of the Sleeping Princess, of whom Tennyson wrote, one
might almost fancy that all life had stopped centuries ago at the
wave of some magic wand. The summer's sun and winter's rain and snow
of half a thousand years have left but the faintest traces on its old
houses and its great parish church of St. Nicholas. The pride and joy
of this church is its altar screen, or _jubé_, said to have been
designed by Urban Taillebert, the architect of the Church of St.
Martin at Ypres and many other celebrated works of around the year
1600. There is also an "Adoration of the Magi" by Jordaens, and the
usual collection of minor works of art. To us, however, this old
church was far more interesting externally than within, its huge clock
tower resembling nothing else that we had seen in Flanders or
elsewhere. The Grande Place, from which one can obtain a fine view of
the old church with a row of Lilliputian houses nestling below it, is
big enough to accommodate all the present inhabitants of the town in
one corner. In its prime Dixmude is said to have had thirty thousand
inhabitants, and all the room on the Place was, no doubt, needed on
market days, but it does not have a fifteenth of that number now, and
the wide, grass-grown expanse of cobble-stones is entirely deserted.

The _jubé_, or altar screen, already mentioned, is the one great
"sight" of the little town, and every one asks without fail whether
you have yet seen it. It is assuredly well worth seeing, being
wonderfully graceful and dainty, and, perhaps, the finest thing of its
kind in Northern Europe. The other famous _chef d'oeuvre_ of Dixmude
is culinary instead of artistic. This is a kind of brioche called
_zieltjenskoeken_, or _gateaux d'ames_--a sort of "soul cooky," as it
were. Twice a year, on certain religious occasions, the inhabitants of
Dixmude consume vast quantities of these confections, which are
claimed to possess the property--if eaten on the prescribed days--of
delivering one's soul from purgatory and sending it straight to
Paradise. We were unfortunately unable to verify this, as our visit
did not come on the right day, but we found the butter of
Dixmude--which has enjoyed a great reputation for centuries--to be all
that was claimed for it, although the Professor insisted on putting a
shake of salt on his, to the great horror of the maid who served our
dinner.

Had some Madame Thebes told us what the near future had in store for
this sleepy and quaint old city we would have spent days instead of
hours in it, but last June its importance did not seem to justify
giving it a chapter so we planned to visit Furnes the same day.
To-day the name of Dixmude has been heard to the farthest ends of the
world, its great square echoes to the tramp of armed men, its old
church--after standing for so many centuries--is said to have fallen
before the withering storm of shrapnel and shells that for days rained
down upon its defenders. It has been taken and retaken by each side in
the gigantic combat more than once. It is asleep no longer, forgotten
no longer; and, in years to come, reverent visitors from many nations
will visit what may remain of the ancient town. For these the chief
interest will not lie in the walls of the ruined church or the relics
of the departed _jubé_, if any there be, but out in the open, pleasant
fields where, in trenches that the kindly hand of nature will
gradually obliterate, the brave men of four nations met in one of the
fiercest and bloodiest death grapples of the great war.

But last July both Madame Thebes and the cannon were silent, so again
taking our faithful _omnibus_ after the dinner--which we obtained at
one of the little restaurants overlooking the Grande Place--we next
journeyed northward to Furnes, which is only a few miles distant
across the flat Flemish plain. Furnes, according to the antiquarians,
dates from as early as the year 800, and its day of greatness had
come and gone centuries ago. Its crooked streets, quaint gabled
houses, and picturesque corners seemed more mediæval than any place we
had visited--surpassing even Dixmude in this respect. It was here, by
the way, that Leopold I was welcomed to the country when he arrived
after being chosen to be the first King of the Belgians in 1831. The
Hotel of the Nobele Rose, near the Grande Place, is said to have been
the Palace of the Countess Gertrude of Flanders in 1093, and if so,
must be one of the oldest houses in Flanders. The widow of Count
Philip of Alsace is also said to have resided here in 1218. More
celebrated, in years to come, than any of these incidents, will be the
fact that Furnes was for many months of the Great War the headquarters
of the brave Belgian army, and the place of residence of Belgium's
heroic King.

The great annual event at Furnes is the famous Procession, which takes
place the third Sunday in July. It dates from 1100 or thereabouts,
when, according to the legend, Count Robert of Flanders was on his way
back from the Holy Land, bringing with him a piece of the true cross.
His voyage across the Mediterranean, through the Straits of Gibraltar
and past the stormy Bay of Biscay, was without incident, but as he
was nearing home a fearful storm in the English Channel threatened to
send his frail bark to the bottom. The waves were running mountain
high and all the party expected each moment to be their last when the
Count suddenly bethought himself of his holy relic and vowed that, if
his life were spared, he would present it to the first church of which
he might see the spire.

Immediately the storm ceased, the wind died down, the sea became as
smooth as a mill-pond, and as the happy mariners looked toward the
shore of their dear Flanders a ray of sunlight fell upon the tower of
Ste. Walburge in Furnes. To this church, therefore, in fulfilment of
his vow, Count Robert presented the relic, now doubly precious by
reason of this miracle. To commemorate this event the canons of the
church organised a procession which took place every year and was
marked by various historical representations of the return of Count
Robert. About 1650 an act of sacrilege committed by a soldier, who was
publicly executed for his crime, led to the procession taking on
certain penitential features by way of expiation on the part of the
city for this sin. From that time on the procession has included
representations, for the most part by peasants dressed up for the
parts, of Abraham and the Prophets, the Flight into Egypt, the Visit
of the Three Wise Men to the Cradle at Bethlehem, so often painted by
the artists of the Flemish school, the Stable and the Birth of Christ,
the Court of Herod, Jesus in the Midst of the Doctors, the Penitent
Magdalen, the Entry of Christ into Jerusalem, the Feast at Cana, the
Garden of Olives, the Betrayal of Judas, and a series of scenes
representing the crucifixion, burial and resurrection. Following these
tableaux come the penitents, walking masked and barefooted, clad for
the most part in brown Capuchin robes, and singing or chanting certain
lines in Flemish. Many of the leading actors in the tableaux have
"speaking parts," all of them in Flemish and delivered with varying
degrees of histrionic skill to the crowd that lines the streets. The
whole performance, apart from its great antiquity, is of interest as
being a local and original representation of the Biblical story--a
sort of Flemish passion play, less refined and artistic than that of
the Swiss peasants of Oberammergau, but none the less conscientious,
earnest and sincere.

At one time Furnes ranked next to Ghent and Bruges among the cities of
Flanders in official importance, if not in population and industry,
its _châtellenie_ comprising fifty-two villages. In 1297 it was
besieged by Robert, the Count of Artois, who fell five years later at
the great battle of Courtrai. At Furnes the French arms were
successful and the city was captured and sacked, "more than two
thousand houses being burned in two days," according to the
contemporary chronicles. Philip the Bold, the first of the Burgundian
Dukes to rule over Flanders, rebuilt its fortifications, and the city
was deemed worthy under Philip the Good to be designated as the place
of residence of the French Dauphin, who subsequently became Louis XI,
when that remarkable young man was in exile through his father's
displeasure. It may well have been here that the wiliest and most
unscrupulous of all the Kings of France planned that tortuous and
secretive policy that--steadily pursued year after year--brought the
powerful House of Burgundy low at last and made France one nation
instead of two or three.

The quaint old Grande Place of Furnes, while smaller than that of
Dixmude, is equally picturesque. On one side is the old Meat Market,
dating from the first quarter of the seventeenth century; and hard by
is the _Maison des Espagnols_, or House of the Spaniards, formerly
used as a town-hall and erected in the thirteenth century. The
present Hotel de Ville also faces the Place and is well worth a visit,
although none of its rooms are sufficiently notable to merit a
detailed description. The ancient _Châtellenie_, now used as Court
House, was begun in 1612--the year the Hotel de Ville was
finished--and is chiefly memorable as the meeting-place of the Spanish
Inquisition. This body held its sessions in the antechamber on the
first floor and not in the main hall, which is decorated by a mural
painting by de Vriendt representing Philip the Fair swearing to
observe the rights and privileges of the city. The establishment of
the Inquisition by his namesake and grandson, Philip II, affords a
ghastly commentary on the manner in which that monarch kept the
similar pledges with which he began his reign. Another fine old
edifice on the Grande Place is the Belfry, square for half its height,
then octagonal, and finally surmounted by a bulbous spire, heavy and
clumsy, but none the less exceedingly quaint and picturesque. Not a
few of the ancient houses around the Place and in the adjacent streets
were sufficiently mediæval to have merited a visit had our stay in
this fine old Flemish town been longer; but, so far as we could
learn, none possessed any particular historical interest.

Besides Ste. Walburge, already mentioned--which was evidently planned
to be a cathedral, but of which only the choir was ever
completed--Furnes possesses the church of St. Nicholas, which has a
noble square tower, also unfinished. Both churches are disappointing
within, although the former is, no doubt, of great interest to
architects as an example of the ogival style, while the latter is
Gothic and dates from the fourteenth century. The choir stalls in St.
Walburge are notable examples of the Flemish woodcarvers' art,
although far less ancient than the church itself.

If the time of your stay is midsummer, as it will be if you come to
Furnes to see the Procession, do not go away without a day on the
dunes at Coxyde. This beach is less well known, as yet, than those at
Ostende, Heyst and Blankenburghe farther to the east but it is
increasing in popularity very rapidly. A land company, with head
offices at Brussels, is engaged in erecting summer houses among the
dunes which look too American in architecture and manner of
construction for this country where houses are generally built as if
intended to last a thousand years. A little _chemin de fer_
_vicinal_ runs from Furnes to Coxyde. In addition to the splendid
beach and the dunes, which have a dreary grandeur that is always
fascinating, the shrimp fishermen, or _pecheurs de crevettes_, will
make the short trip well worth while.

[Illustration: SHRIMP FISHERMEN, COXYDE.]

These weather-beaten men, with their rough oilskin hats and suits, are
the modern representatives of an ancient Flemish industry--shrimp
fishing having been carried on along these coasts literally from time
immemorial. They are very picturesque, both while at work on horseback
dragging in their nets, and while lounging along the shore, pipe in
mouth. Jean Delvin has a fine painting representing them in the Museum
at Ghent, while one of the most powerful of Meunier's statues is
devoted to the same subject.

CHAPTER VI

NIEUPORT AND THE YSER CANAL

When the war is over, and the era of commemoration begins, Belgium, if
she is free, should erect at Nieuport, close to the great locks that
mark the outlet of the Yser Canal--or at some point along the canal
where the fighting was the fiercest--a monument higher than that at
Leipzig where the Germans recall their victory over Napoleon, higher
than the great lion that guards the field of Waterloo. At its summit
should stand a heroic-sized figure in imperishable bronze of a Belgian
infantryman, one of the round-capped "demons" whose indomitable will
and unwavering courage held this last bit of Belgian soil against
overpowering numbers for days. It was here that Germany's magnificent
rush from Antwerp to the Channel ports was stopped, and it was the
last remnant of the little Belgian army that, turning on its foe like
a lion at bay, hurled back every assault until the little Yser Canal
ran red and until, at last, the great reinforcing hosts of the allies
came.

The little straggling town of Nieuport, peaceful and sleepy as it
looked last summer, is not a stranger to battles and sieges. In the
time of William the Conqueror Lombartzyde, now a little hamlet on the
_chemin de fer vicinal_ behind the dunes from Nieuport to Ostende, was
the shipping port of this region, but great storms filled the harbour
with sand and the citizens established a "New Port" on another branch
of the Yser in 1160. It was fortified three years later, and for
several centuries was one of the strong towns defending the Low
Countries on the French frontier. Its strategic importance made it the
scene of many battles and sieges. It was destroyed by the English and
their allies, the men of Ghent, in 1383. The lonely tower or Donjon of
the Templars, standing on the edge of the town, is all that remains of
a monastery of that order which was ruined at that time.

The city itself, however, was quickly rebuilt, and among other
memorable sieges beat off a great French force in the year 1489. In
1568 the Spanish, under Condé, beat a French army commanded by Turenne
not far from the city. Another famous fight before the walls of the
old town took place in the year 1600 during the long war between Spain
and her revolted Provinces. Count Maurice of Nassau, at the head of
twelve thousand men from the United Provinces, had invaded Flanders,
which still remained under the power of Spain, and marching rapidly
from the Scheldt past Ostende, proceeded to besiege Nieuport. The
Archduke Albert, hastily raising an army of fifteen thousand
Spaniards, advanced unexpectedly on the Dutch, who were taken
completely by surprise. Perceiving that he was caught in a trap, Count
Maurice--in order to give his men the courage of despair--ordered the
Dutch fleet to withdraw, and told his soldiers that they must either
conquer or "be prepared to drink all the water behind them."

Meanwhile an advance guard of the Dutch army was driven back by the
advancing Spaniards who, thinking they had met the whole army, sent
couriers to Bruges and Ghent announcing the victory. Bells were rung
to celebrate the Archduke's supposed success which, as the event
proved, was a strategic victory for Nassau as it delayed the enemy
several hours. It was three o'clock in the afternoon when the
advancing Spaniards found themselves face to face with the main army
of the republic, drawn up on the very beach outside the city walls.
Perceiving their sturdy ranks and unyielding front the Archduke
hesitated, but the Spaniards urged him not to let them lose their
prey, whom they regarded as hateful rebels and heretics.

Thus encouraged, the Archduke gave the order to advance and the battle
soon became general. The fate of the day was decided by the artillery
of the Dutch which, by a fortunate order of their far-sighted
commander, had been lifted off from the sand and mounted on platforms
made from boughs, brush and such timber as was handy. That of the
Archduke, mounted in haste directly on the beach, embedded itself in
the sand at each discharge until it became useless, while that of the
republicans became more accurate and deadly. At the same time the rays
of the setting sun falling directly in the eyes of the Spanish
soldiers, who were facing westward, blinded them and caused them to
fire wildly. The Archduke performed prodigies of valour, having two
horses killed under him and being himself slightly wounded, but as
darkness began to fall on the bloody beach Count Maurice ordered a
charge by a force of cavalry he had held in reserve. This fresh force
proved irresistible, the Spanish lines began to give way on all sides,
and the retreat quickly turned into a rout. Even the proud Archduke
had to seek safety in flight, and the day, which had begun so
auspiciously, ended in one of the greatest disasters of the disastrous
war.

Nieuport and its sister cities in this, until lately, half-forgotten
corner of Flanders were, in former times, renowned for other contests
happily less bloody than these famous battles. Here, during the Middle
Ages, flourished a group of societies devoted to rhetoric. In place of
the still more ancient tourneys, where armed knights fought with lance
and sword, these "Chambers of Rhetoric" held annual contests of
oratory. From one end of Flanders to the other the movement spread;
and these debating societies did much to cultivate a regard for
learning and dialectic skill among the mass of the population. Sternly
suppressed by Alva, implacable foe of every form of free thought,
these societies were revived after the Spanish scourge was withdrawn,
and some of them continue to the present day.

The visitor who wandered around the long, slightly hilly streets of
the Nieuport of last July would have had little trouble in locating
plenty of the "monuments" of its famous past, although the beach has
now receded two or three miles to the northward and pleasant fields
extend along the edge of the wide marshes which then were probably
part of the sea. A curious old lighthouse with a pointed tower stands
about midway between the present town and Nieuport _Bains_, as the
beach town is called, showing where the coastline lay some three
hundred and fifty years ago. Even this spot is now too far inland for
the light to be seen at sea and a new lighthouse has been built on the
rampart of dunes that runs, like a miniature mountain range, almost to
Ostende toward the east, and westward to Coxyde and beyond.

[Illustration: TOWER OF THE TEMPLARS, NIEUPORT.]

Our first visit at Nieuport was to the Tower of the Templars, a huge
square pile of brick standing in the midst of a potato patch. This
prosaic environment detracted not a little from the sentimental
interest of the edifice, and we were unable to get into the structure,
although one of the gens d'armes of the village was said to have a key
to the low wooden door at its base. Equally disappointing was a visit
to the ancient _Halle aux Draps_, or Cloth Hall, now used on certain
days as a local butter market. Here again, the door was locked and no
one seemed to know who had the key. Curiously enough, although
situated very close to the French frontier, we found in this little
town and its neighbours, Dixmude and Furnes, very few people who
understood French. Flemish is the universal language hereabouts
apparently, but it was only on this little trip that we were at all
inconvenienced by our inability to speak it. Elsewhere in
Flanders--even at Ypres and Audenaerde, where our friends said we
would have trouble--we were able to make our French universally
understood.

On the Grande Place, close to the Cloth Hall, we found a little inn,
called the Hotel du Pelican, where the Professor proposed that we
should get some liquid refreshment. We failed, however, to obtain any
response to our raps and thumps on the door, and concluding that the
establishment must be run for pelicans only we took ourselves and our
patronage elsewhere. The Church of Notre Dame, which stands just off
the Grande Place, we found to be a most quaint and interesting old
structure dating, it is said, from the thirteenth century. While less
imposing externally than St. Nicholas at Furnes its massive square
baroque tower was very striking, and formed a fine picture in
conjunction with the more slender tower of the Cloth Hall hard by. The
approach to the main entrance of the church was beneath some lofty
trees and we did not see a solitary human being either outside of the
edifice or within it. This church has an interesting _jubé_ or rood
loft, a fine wooden pulpit, and we also noticed a curious winding
stairway that seemed to lead upward within one of the pillars at the
intersection of the transept and the choir. As the tower is not built
at this point, but at one end of the edifice, it was quite a mystery
where this stairway went and what its purpose might be, but as it
seemed exceedingly narrow and dark we did not explore it, nor did we
find any one to whom we could apply for information about it.

It was in this church, by the way, or possibly in one of those at
Dixmude or Furnes, that the Madame developed a violent antipathy to a
certain painting that seems to be one of the most cherished
possessions of nearly every church in Flanders. As old Cotton and
Increase Mather delighted in scaring and harrowing their audiences
with word pictures of the tortures of the burning fiery pit, so nearly
every old Flemish artist seems to have delighted in portraying most
vividly the sufferings and martyrdoms of the saints, and one subject
in particular appears to have caught the fancy of every one of them.
This was the beheading of John the Baptist. At times the head is shown
rolling in the dust or mire of the street, at times it is represented
as being served on a platter--but to one and all of these works of art
the Madame objected. This circumstance added not a little to the
happiness of Mr. and Mrs. Professor, who were continually contriving
to lead her artfully around to inspect some new wonder, which proved
to be another representation of this agreeable scene. As works of art
they were nearly all atrocities, but as jokes on the Madame they were
one and all great successes, and it was really surprising how many of
them there were.

The Hotel de Ville, a somewhat commonplace looking structure, is said
to contain a small collection of paintings, but we were unable to make
any of the phlegmatic gens d'armes whom we found lounging close by
take enough interest in our questions to inform us where admission
might be obtained. In fact the whole town seemed singularly
uninterested in tourists, apparently caring not a bit whether they
came or stayed away. While the war will undoubtedly change this, still
any one desiring to visit it will do well to make the trip from
Ostende or Furnes, returning for the night to some point where hotel
accommodations are more adequate. In our case we went over to Ostende,
where there are many good hotels. No doubt a pleasant week or month
could be spent in this corner of Flanders, but for such a stay the
best plan would be to go to one of the many little seaside resorts
between Coxyde and Ostende for one's hotel or pension, and explore the
hinterland from there.

The ride by the little _chemin de fer vicinal_ from Nieuport to
Ostende is a very interesting one. At the outset the line crosses the
huge locks that join the canals to Ostende and Furnes with the tidal
river Yser. There are seven or eight bridges in all, the different
canals and channels being separated by tiny islands. Had Madame Thebes
only suggested that we explore the Yser Canals while we were there
last July how much more interesting this part of the book would be!
Unfortunately they looked then much as hundreds of other Belgian
canals had looked and we gave them only a passing glance. While the
newspapers in their accounts of the great battle of Flanders usually
spoke of the Yser Canal as though there was but a single canal, in
reality there are three canals that flow into the tiny Yser River at
this point. One of these runs parallel with the coast to Ostende, and
then onward to Bruges and beyond; the second runs behind the range of
dunes westward to Furnes, where it divides and crosses the French
frontier in two branches, one going to Bergues and the other to
Dunkerque. It is the third branch that achieved immortality in the
Battle of Flanders. This runs straight inland, at right angles to the
other two, following the tortuous channel of the old river much of the
way to Dixmude. A short distance beyond Dixmude the canal ceases to
follow the River Yser, which here flows eastward from a source well
across the French boundary, and ascends the Yser's smaller tributary,
the Yperlée, to Ypres. It did not seem like very much of an obstacle
from a military standpoint, but brave hearts can make the most of a
small advantage. Below the big locks the little river runs in its own
bed to the sea. Here the tide was out the day of our visit and a few
small fishing boats were lying tipped over sideways in the mud, while
two or three English ladies were busily sketching the not
over-picturesque scene. There will be a great many people sketching in
this vicinity by and by!

About two miles from Nieuport the train passes the church of
Lombartzyde, within which is a statue of the Virgin known among
mariners far and wide as the _Bonne Mére de Lombartzyde_, and who is
devoutly believed able to protect the faithful seaman from perils by
sea, to aid the farmer in his harvest, to cure the sick and succour
the distressed. Many are the little ships, patiently carved by fingers
hardened by toil and exposure, that have been reverently hung before
the good Virgin's shrine. There are perhaps fewer now than formerly,
but faith in her protection and power is still strong and will
probably always continue to be so, for the Flemings are intensely
loyal to the church.

Not a few of those who visit these little towns, rich in mementoes of
the past, but otherwise apparently very sleepy and dull, wonder what
the inhabitants do for amusement. No one who has ever spent a Sunday
in a Belgian country village need ask this question. From one end of
the country to the other, in the Borinage or mining provinces of the
southwest as well as in the Flemish counties of the north, the male
population devotes the greater part of the day to what may
unhesitatingly be termed the Belgian national sport--archery. In the
early part of the Middle Ages Flemish archers were as famous as the
longbowmen of Merrie England, and on many a hard fought field they
gave a good account of themselves. Curiously enough, the archery
societies into which they formed themselves for practice have survived
all the wars and changes of the centuries, have continued in spite of
the invention of gunpowder and the perfection of firearms--an industry
in which Liége, in southern Belgium, has led all other cities--and
seem to be as vital a part of the national life of the country as ever
they were. The fact that the bow and arrow is an anachronism troubles
your Belgian peasant not at all; he shoulders his long bow as
cheerfully on a Sunday morning as if he were carrying the latest model
of smokeless powder repeater, with Maxim silencer and all modern
improvements, instead of a weapon that was out of date and useless
five hundred years ago.

As practised in Belgium, archery contests are carried on in two ways.
There is first what is known as the _Tir á l'oiseau_ or _Perche_. In
the centre of the village green of the smaller towns, and in some open
space in the suburbs of the larger places, the traveller cannot fail
to notice what looks like a flag pole, the top of which, however,
tapers to a slender point, from just beneath which four short arms
point upward diagonally, while three cross arms are placed
horizontally below them. On these are fixed the _oiseaux_, or
birds--blocks of cork covered with tinsel or gaily-coloured paper,
each with a tuft of feathers stuck at the top. The archers gather
below the pole and shoot upward, aiming at the "birds" and
endeavouring to knock them off cleanly. Each shoots in turn, and the
prizes--which have been duly announced by posters for days
beforehand--go to those capturing one of the "birds," the value
varying according to its position. In the contests entitled "_Tir du
Roi_," the archer bringing down the last bird wins the largest prize
and is called the "_Roi_," or King, and as by that time the archers
have one and all consumed a goodly portion of their favourite
beverages there is general hilarity--especially if the victor is a
popular favourite. Immemorial custom decrees that the King should deal
liberally with his subjects and dispense in libations whatever sum he
may have gained as a prize, after which he is usually escorted, or if
necessary carried, home in great state with a band in advance and all
the members of the contest following in a disorderly, but jolly,
crowd.

The second form of contest is known as the "_Tir au berceau_," and
consists of shooting at a target. The birds, in this case, are
fastened about the bull's eye. The archers stand at a distance of one
hundred metres from the target, which is usually placed at the rear of
a walled court or garden. Generally a series of wooden arches placed
at intervals along the line of fire serve to arrest any arrows that go
wild, while the back of the target is reinforced strongly with straws
about a foot long laid lengthwise with the line of the shooting and
packed under great pressure. There is invariably a public café or
estaminet attached to the places where archery contests _au berceau_
are conducted, while such places are always found close by the spot
where a _Tir á l'oiseau_ takes place. Between shots the men consume
liberal quantities of lambic, faro, or the beer of some neighbouring
brewer, and discuss politics or the news of the day. A circumstance
that renders disorders comparatively rare is that each archery society
consists of men of a single party. The Catholics have their favourite
places that are patronised exclusively by Catholics, while the
Socialists in the southern provinces, where that party is strong, have
their own societies and places of rendezvous. The clergy are heartily
interested in the Catholic contests, giving liberal prizes and
attending in considerable numbers to cheer the victors and console the
vanquished.

During the early part of the war numerous references were made in the
despatches to the marvellous accuracy of the Belgian riflemen. To one
who has attended scores of these archery contests it is not surprising
that the Belgians are good shots. Out of date though the bow and arrow
is, yet the sport cannot fail to train the eye and hand, and constant
rivalry in such a pastime has made the Belgians literally a nation of
sharpshooters. On one occasion the writer and a friend took a couple
of shots with a carbine in one of the little shooting galleries that
accompanied a village kermesse. We both missed. A young man standing
by, who worked in the village sugar mill, politely asked which of the
various pipes and other objects we were aiming at. We indicated one of
them and, zip! his bullet had shattered it. Half a dozen shots in
quick succession at different objects we pointed out proved equally
accurate. It was an exhibition of marksmanship such as one frequently
sees on the stage in the United States, but being made by a casual
bystander in a village street it was most impressive. Nor was the lad,
as I took pains to inquire, noted particularly for his skill in this
direction--having seldom won prizes in the official contests.

All ages join in this sport, the small boys erecting diminutive poles
in the fields around the villages, where they imitate their elders
with toy bows and arrows, while men of seventy or eighty take their
turn with beardless youths in the prize competitions. While I was
visiting in the Borinage two years ago the uncle of my hostess
shouldered his two-metre bow and started off to a "meet" despite his
eighty-seven years. What is more, his hand had lost none of its
strength and firmness, and his eyes none of their keenness, for twice
while I was present he brought down one of the "birds," and I later
learned that he had won one of the principal prizes. Only the year
before he had been crowned "King" at one such contest, and the first
time he ever won that coveted honour was when he was sixteen--or
seventy-one years before. I doubt whether there is any athletic game
in the world of which the devotees can point to a longer record of
success.

This fine old athlete had two brothers older than himself alive at the
time, the combined ages of the three aggregating two hundred and
eighty years. One of them, aged ninety-four, recently expressed some
anxiety as to what would become of him in the event of the death of
the daughter with whom he was living.

"What will I do if Amèlie should die?" he asked of one of his other
daughters.

"Why, papa, then you would come and live with me," she replied,
adding with a flash of characteristic Belgian humour, "and when I am
dead you'll go to live with Fèlicienne" (a grand-daughter still in her
'teens). As this provided safely for his future for at least another
fifty years, the old gentleman was greatly relieved, feeling perhaps
that if he survived Fèlicienne her children would by that time be old
enough to take care of him.

While archery is everywhere the dominating pastime of the working
class it is by no means the only form of popular amusement. The
bicycle has not yet gone out of vogue in Belgium, and societies exist
in hundreds of cities and communes for the encouragement of bicycle
racing. The day of our arrival in the village where Tante Rosa spread
for us the banquet mentioned in the second chapter, we were so
fortunate as to witness the final sprint of a twenty-five kilometre
race. A score of contestants had pedalled ten times over a course
consisting for the most part of roadways paved with ragged
cobble-stones, the rest being dirt roads filled with mud puddles owing
to a recent rain. The riders, as they rushed by, were literally
covered with mud and had evidently struggled hard to gain one of the
five prizes which aggregated, as we afterwards learned, the
munificent sum of eighty francs, sixteen dollars, of which the winner
received thirty--six dollars!

Another favourite form of recreation is the racing of pigeons, and
societies for the promotion of this sport exist in every part of the
Kingdom. Frequently the birds fly from one end of the country to the
other and many examples of remarkable speed have been reported, the
winners bringing comparatively high prices:

No better idea of the variety of popular amusements can be given than
to take the programme of one little commune that I had an opportunity
of copying, entitled "_Fêtes Communales de 1914_"--this announcement
being printed in French and Flemish. While many of the events were
evidently organised by various societies the officials of the commune
assumed responsibility for the proper conduct of the contests, and
either provided the prizes or contributed a substantial sum toward
them, the rest being raised by a fee exacted from each contestant
which varied from one franc, thirty centimes for the smaller events to
five francs for the more important ones. With one hundred contestants
this would yield one hundred and thirty francs, to which the commune
usually added fifty, making one hundred and eighty francs available
in all. For the chief events the prizes aggregate 1,000 to 2,000
francs--quite a respectable sum for a commune of six thousand
inhabitants. The difference between archery contests _au berceau_ and
_à la perche_ has already been explained. The programme, much
abbreviated, follows:

Sun., Apr. 19.--Archery contests, both au berceau and
perche.

Sun., Apr. 26.--Archery contest, au berceau, and rifle
contest (carbines).

Fri., May 1.--Fête du Travail (Labor Day) Archery
contest and popular ball on a public
square in the evening--dancing in
the street, rain or shine.

Sun., May 10.--Rifle contest.

Thurs., May
21.--Archery contest.

Sun., May. 24.--Annual Fair with archery contests of
both kinds, rifle contest and grand
concert in evening with two bands.

Sun., May 31.--Kermesse, with archery contests of both
kinds and a popular out-door ball in
the evening.

Sun., June 7.--Bicycle Race--outdoor course around
the village ten times, 25 kilometres.

Sun., June 14.--Archery contest au berceau and Tir du
Roi (perche).

Sun., June 21.--Kermesse in another quarter of the commune,
with rifle contest and concert in
evening, followed by popular ball.

Sun. to Tues.,
July 5, 6, 7,--Annual Kermesse in the centre of the
commune, with archery contest (perche)
on Sunday, au berceau on Monday, and
Tir du Roi with public games and
sports on Tuesday. Itinerant amusement
enterprises of all kinds make
these annual kermesses a miniature
Coney Island while they last.

Sun., July 26.--Tir du Roi and Grand Fête Gymnastique,
followed by concert, Fête de Nuit and
a ball.

Sun., Aug. 9.--Fête d'Enfance, distribution of prizes to
school children with public exhibition
of school gymnastics, etc.

Sat. and Sun.,
Aug. 15 and
16.--Kermesse in a third quarter, with archery
contests and concert.

Sun. Mon. and
Tues., Aug.
30 to Sept. 1.--Annual Kermesse, with archery contests
of both kinds, concert and sports and
games.

Sun., Sept. 20.--Archery au berceau and rifle contest.

Sun., Oct. 25.--Same.

Sun., Nov. 21.--Archery, perche.

Sun., Dec. 13.--Rifle contest.

It must be confessed that this programme is somewhat monotonous, but
in the larger towns it is considerably amplified and varied. Still to
one who was brought up in a small country village in New Hampshire it
seems very good, both as an evidence of the popular desire for
healthy and rational out-door enjoyment, and of the disposition of the
Government to promote and foster legitimate amusements of all kinds.
The kermesse is an European rather than a Belgian institution and
requires no description further than that it is a jolly good time for
everybody. It has existed in Flanders and throughout the Walloon
provinces from time immemorial, as ancient paintings and still more
ancient historical references conclusively show. Its most interesting
feature to the American visitor is the night dancing out of doors on
the rough cobble-stones of the town square or on the soft grass of the
village green. Lighted by flaring gas torches, or sometimes only by
the moon and such stray beams as fall on the dancers from the open
doors and windows of adjacent cafés, the spectacle of the gaily
dancing couples carries the observer back to the days when the world
was young, and love and laughter and happiness reigned supreme.

[Illustration: AN ANCIENT PAINTING OF THE FLEMISH KERMESSE, BY
TENIERS.]

CHAPTER VII

WHEN YPRES WAS A GREATER CITY THAN LONDON

As we returned from our trip to Dixmude, Furnes and Nieuport, the
Professor announced that our next destination would be Ypres. If he
had said that it would he Chingwangtao, or the Comoro Archipelago, the
ladies could hardly have stared at him more blankly. They had never
heard of it. Since October the whole world has heard of it, and the
name of the all but forgotten old town is familiar to every
schoolboy--and will continue so for generations to come. The record of
our visit that follows was written amid the pleasant and peaceful
scenes that it describes. When we were there the swans were swimming
majestically in the waters of the moat that still surrounded the
remnants of the old city walls, but we were told that for military
purposes all this was obsolete. No doubt it was, but the brave old
town was none the less able--with the help of its stubborn English
defenders--to withstand the most furious, determined and bloody
assaults in all history. To the German host the mediæval term _la
morte d'Ypres_ was revived in those awful weeks of October and
November, 1914, for the grim, low-lying ramparts of the town meant
death to countless thousands.

Whether anything whatever is still standing of the old structures
described in this chapter it is at present impossible to say. The
British trenches were under a well-nigh continuous storm of shells for
many weeks, and the town itself must undoubtedly have suffered
severely. Late in November it was reported that the old Cloth Hall had
been destroyed by the furious German bombardment, or, at least,
severely injured. The account of the various points of interest in the
famous old town as they appeared in peaceful June--together with some
brief sketches of its former greatness--may be all the more
interesting now that its ruins lie in the lime-light of the world's
attention. As compared with the half-dozen tourists that averaged to
visit Ypres each day before the war the return of peace will see it
become the Mecca for daily thousands. To these the remains of the town
itself should vie in interest with the trenches of the famous
battle-fields of the Great War, for during a period two or three
times as long as the entire duration of the nation known as the United
States of America, Ypres was one of the greatest and richest cities in
the world.

It was hard to believe it, however, as we rumbled into the railroad
station and, stepping out upon the almost deserted platform, took our
first look at the place. As is usually the case in Flanders, the train
deposits the visitor some distance from the centre of the town. The
very first view was full of delight and promise of better things in
store, however, for as we emerged from the station we found ourselves
facing a pretty little park or square on the opposite side of which we
could see a bit of the ancient city walls which stretched away toward
the right most invitingly.

Postponing the pleasure of inspecting these renowned ramparts till a
later occasion, we made our way through narrow winding streets direct
to the Grande Place, pausing now and then to admire the quaint gabled
houses on the rue au Beurre (Butter Street). At the Grande Place the
Professor led us directly to the huge Cloth Hall, which completely
fills one side of it, for here--he said--we would find the best
introduction to the history and romance of the city. The concierge
proved hard to find, and we wandered up-stairs and through a
deserted corridor, trying several doors that proved all to be locked,
before we located the familiar sign. Our fees being duly paid--fifty
centimes each, which was little enough for the privilege of inspecting
the finest monument of its kind in Flanders, or for that matter in all
Europe--one of the doors was obligingly unlocked and we found
ourselves immediately in the great Guild Hall.

[Illustration: CLOTH HALL, YPRES.]

The _Halle aux Draps_, or Cloth Hall, is the largest civil edifice in
Belgium, and without doubt one of the largest in the world. It is four
hundred and thirty-three feet long by more than two hundred in
width--or larger than Madison Square Garden. Its huge bulk, and that
of the former cathedral hard by, contrast strangely with the present
dimensions of the little city. Yet when they were built Ypres was the
powerful rival of Bruges and Ghent, then at the apex of their glory,
and one of the foremost cities in the world. The Cloth Hall was begun
in 1200 and completed in 1304, or two years after the Battle of the
Spurs, a victory won by the guildsmen of Ypres and Bruges against the
chivalry of France. During that period the city had two hundred
thousand inhabitants, its woollen weavers operated four thousand
looms, and more than four hundred guilds responded to the calls to
arms that sounded, at frequent intervals, from the belfry.

The greatest wonder of the edifice is the immense gallery, or hall,
which occupies the side next to the Grande Place. This extends for the
entire length of the building, broken only by the belfry in the centre
which forms a sort of transept across it. In height it reaches clear
to the roof, the huge roof beams forming its ceiling. There is a
veritable forest of these, massive, sturdy, and as perfect as the day
they were hewed from the fair oaks of the countryside roundabout. The
concierge will not fail to tell you, if you pause to admire this
majestic timber-work of six hundred years ago, that from that day to
this no spider has ever spun its web there--nor is any spider ever
seen. Like the story of the snakes in Ireland, it would be a big pity
to spoil this by finding one and pointing it out--one must needs be a
good runner to do it, and be very sure which road leads to the railway
station, for it might go hard with him--but we could not see any the
day we were there. In fact, the legend has been repeated by many
writers since the sixteenth century and is now such a matter of local
pride that no doubt the concierge who permitted one to get in and set
up housekeeping in this spiderless Eden--for it certainly must look
like the Promised Land to a spider--would not only lose his or her
job, but be severely punished by the indignant city fathers into the
bargain.

Looking at the Cloth Hall from across the Grande Place it has the
aspect of being a low building, but within this gallery one gains
precisely an opposite impression--of unusual loftiness. Just how high
the vast room is can best be estimated by noting the wooden façade of
an ancient house that has been taken down and erected against one wall
in its entirety. With its three stories and high peaked top this
structure appears to be literally lost, looking like an undersized pea
in an extra big pod. The great inner walls of the main gallery, facing
the windows that look out upon the Grande Place, have been decorated
by modern frescoes of great historical and artistic interest painted
by two artists of widely different methods and ideals. The portion
into which one first enters, extending to the break formed by the
tower, was decorated by Ferdinand Pauwels, Director of the Royal
Academy of Dresden. Both the art critics, and those who make no
pretence to superior knowledge in such matters, agree that this work
has been magnificently done. The vastness of the wall spaces made it
possible to paint the pictures on a scale of size and with a wealth of
detail surpassing the fine frescoes of the Hotel de Ville at Bruges
and the general effect upon the beholder is impressive in the extreme.
The pictures represent notable events in the town's history down to
the fourteenth century, and were begun in 1872 and completed in 1881.
The subjects selected by the artist are as follows:

1.--Visit of Count Philip of Alsace to the Hospital of
Our Lady in 1187.

2.--Count Ferdinand of Portugal orders the Magistrates
to fortify the town in 1214.

3.--Countess Jeanne of Constantinople setting prisoners
free on Good Friday, 1206.

4.--5.--The Magistrates give the Countess Margaret the
ransom of her son William, who was made prisoner
during the 7th Crusade.

6.--Building the West wing of the Guild Hall in the time
of Guy of Dampierre, 1285.

7.--8.--Return of the armed forces of Ypres in 1302
after the Battle of the Spurs.

9.--The Plague, known as la Morte d'Ypres, in 1347.

10.--11.--Banquet offered in this very hall to Mahaut,
Countess of Flanders, and Matthew, Duke of Lorraine
on their marriage in 1314.

12.--An episode of the siege of Ypres by the English
and the men of Ghent in 1383.

As will be noted, the pictures are not arranged in exact chronological
order, but, taken together, they form a wonderful pictorial summary
of the city's history--down to the Fall of 1914, which merits a
separate gallery by itself. To us the most impressive of the series
was the vast picture in two sections showing the triumphant return
from the Battle of Courtrai and the tragic representation of the Black
Death, which swept through all the densely populated Flemish towns;
but was more destructive at Ypres than elsewhere. The visitation here
represented was by no means the only one in the city's history, and
for centuries _la morte d'Ypres_ was a name of terror throughout the
countryside.

In the section of the Great Hall beyond the belfry the mural paintings
are the work of Louis Delbeke, a painter of Ypres. His pictures were
the subject of violent criticism when they were first exhibited, and
are entirely unlike those in the other portion of the chamber. The
artist endeavoured to give his work an archaic appearance, in keeping
with the antiquity of its surroundings, and it was his intention to
symbolise the various manifestations of the public life of the
city--Civic Freedom, Commerce, Industry, Charities, Literature and so
on. The work was interrupted by his death and has never been
completed.

Another room of great interest is the _Salle Echevinale_, where for
five centuries the magistrates of Ypres held their sessions. Between
1322 and 1468 local artists painted on the wall above the three Gothic
arches in this room a frieze comprising portraits of the early Counts
and Countesses of Flanders, beginning with Louis of Nevers and ending
with Charles the Bold. When the French occupied the town in 1794 they
covered these "emblems of superstition and portraits of tyrants" with
a thick coat of whitewash which was only accidentally knocked off in
1844, exposing a bit of the ancient and still brilliantly coloured
painting. The discovery created quite a sensation, as the very
existence of this work had been forgotten, and a native artist was
commissioned to remove the whitewash and restore the paintings, which
he did in a manner that is not entirely satisfactory, but none the
less gives us an opportunity to view once more this interesting
work--one of the earliest pieces of mural painting in Flanders. On the
north wall of this room is a modern fresco by Godefroid Guffens,
representing "The State Entry of Philip the Bold" in 1384, while on
the other side of the room is a monumental Flemish chimney-piece
carved by Malfait of Brussels, with mural paintings on each side by
Jean Swerts--like Guffens, a painter of the modern Antwerp school.
These represent the Magistrates of Ypres issuing an order regarding
the maintenance of the poor, in 1515; and the visit of the Magistrates
to one of the Free Schools founded in 1253--thus illustrating the
early interest taken by the commune in free education and public
charities.

Leaving this interesting building we went across a small roughly paved
square to the Church of St. Martin, which dates from the thirteenth
century, and was for many centuries a cathedral. The unfinished square
tower was erected in 1433. The choir is Romano-ogival, while the nave
and aisles are early Gothic, and the edifice has many other peculiar
features of interest to students of architecture. It contains the
usual paintings, of which none are of remarkable interest, and some
excellent choir stalls. The most famous of the Bishops of St. Martin,
while it was a Cathedral Church, was Jansenius, one of the leading
figures in the Reformation, who died of the Plague in 1638. His great
work on St. Augustine occupied twenty-two years of his life while at
Ypres and caused a tremendous discussion. It was finally declared to
be heretical, but its teachings had already given rise to an ardent
group of followers of the learned Flemish churchman, who were called
Jansenists. The archives of the city and church contain much
interesting material regarding this celebrated mediæval theologian.
His tomb, which still stands in the church of which he was once the
head, formerly contained a long and highly eulogistic inscription,
which, by an order from the Pope in 1655, was cut down to the bare
remnant that still remains.

The Grande Place of Ypres is another of the surprises that this tiny
city has to offer to those unacquainted with its history, for it is
one of the largest in all Flanders--a veritable Sahara of a Place on a
hot summer day, albeit a Sahara bordered with many pleasant oases
where cooling drinks, if they do not bubble up from the ground, can at
least be had without much difficulty. During most of the week the vast
paved space is almost deserted, save for an occasional peasant's cart
that rumbles slowly and clumsily across it, but on market-days it is
full of picturesque and swarming life. Then the peasants come in from
the countryside by the thousand, while the itinerant hucksters and
pedlars who, in Belgium travel from one fair or market-place to
another, set up their canvas-covered booths in long streets from one
side of the Grande Place to the other. The country people press along
between these rows of tiny shops and haggle energetically with the
proprietors for whatever takes their fancy. An astounding variety of
wares are offered for sale on these market days--dress goods of every
description in the great Cloth Hall, which for a brief moment reflects
a feeble glimmer of its ancient glory; ready-made garments for man,
woman and child; footwear, headwear, and every conceivable kind of
hardware, of tinware, of crockery. In short, the display is a
veritable department store, for the most part cheap stuff, it is true,
but now and then one runs across laces for which the prices asked are
quite high. Then, of course, there is the inevitable array of
everything possible to eat--from the butchers' stalls in the basement
of the Cloth Hall to the huckster selling live chickens from a bag on
the corner, and the scores of stands selling fruits and vegetables of
every seasonable variety.

At last, however, the market comes to an end, the hucksters and market
gardeners take down their booths and drive away in their heavy Flemish
carts; the country people, after a more or less protracted visit to
the places of refreshment around the Place and in the adjacent
streets, go homeward, and the Grande Place settles down again into its
sleep of centuries. While we were there the moon was at its full, and
as its white light fell upon the grass-grown Place and the huge grey
mass of the Cloth Hall it was not hard to picture the old days come
back again and review, in fancy, some of the stirring times that the
old houses around it have looked down upon. The great bell in the
Cloth Hall tower rings and from far and wide come hurrying throngs of
sturdy artisans, with their lances, pikes and clubs. The _Serments_,
or oath-bound corporations, take their positions gravely and in good
order--men of substance these, portly, well-fed, and prosperous. Then
the _Métiers_, or lesser craftsmen, assemble--no doubt more noisily
and boisterously, as would be expected from their rougher class and
lower breeding. Each of the four hundred guilds assembles around its
respective banner, the Count and others of the nobility come riding
up; and with them, on terms of full equality, the commanders of the
citizen soldiery confer. Then, as the trumpets sound, or mayhap the
great bell peals again, the hosts march off in serried ranks to the
city gates, or to take their positions along the walls. The old
streets echo to the sound of their tramping feet, the noise of their
shouts and cries dies away, and once more the still moonlight falls
upon the deserted old Place.

As we sat in one of the cafés facing the Cloth Hall, our minds filled
with these and other fancies of the olden days--the moonlight, the old
houses all around us, and the many quaint and ancient things we had
seen during the day all contributing to the dreamy sense of
enchantment--the Professor told us something of the legend and history
of that far-off thirteenth century when much of the Ypres we had seen
that day was built. It was an age when men firmly believed in magic
and fairies and delighted in tales of mystery and enchantment. Some of
the most famous stories told by the old Flemish chroniclers relate to
the career of Baldwin IX, who came to be known as Baldwin of
Constantinople. After the long and wise reigns of Dierick of Alsace
and his son Philip, Flanders had become one of the richest and most
prosperous countries in Europe. The French, who looked upon its
fertile plains and fair cities with covetous eyes, composed these
lines, which no doubt expressed their sincere conviction:

"La plus belle Comté est La Flandre,
La plus belle Duché est La Bourgogne,
La plus belle Royaume est France."

Baldwin was not only Count of Flanders, but also Count of Hainaut, of
which Mons was the capital--his dominions therefore extending from the
North Sea to the River Meuse and including much of the Ardennes. It
was in this region--the true fairy-land of Belgium--that the Count met
with an adventure, according to certain of the chroniclers, which gave
his reign a most sinister beginning. It happened in this wise. The
Count was very fond of hunting, and very neglectful of the duty his
loyal subjects felt that he owed to them--of getting married and
securing children to insure the succession. For nothing was more
disastrous to a country than to have its line of princes die out,
leaving their title to be fought for by all who felt themselves strong
enough to seize it. The Count was to have married Beatrice of France,
the most beautiful princess in Christendom, but to the neglect of this
important matter he went hunting in the Ardennes, where from time
immemorial the wild boars have been very large and fierce.

Here, after a day of poor sport, the Count came upon a black boar of
enormous strength which killed several of his dogs and even wounded
one of his companions. Pursuing the savage beast eagerly the Count
lost sight of his followers and when he finally brought it to bay he
was alone. With a blow from his javelin he finally killed it, and then
cut off its monstrous head. As he paused to get his breath he heard a
slight rustle in the bushes and there was the most beautiful lady he
had ever seen, seated on a palfrey. Upon his inquiring who she was,
and why she was there in the forest alone, she replied that she was an
Eastern princess and had come to find and wed the richest Count in
Christendom, adding that she had learned that the Count of Flanders
was the noblest lord in all the West, and it was therefore that Count
for whom she was seeking.

To this the Count, who had already fallen deeply in love with the
beautiful stranger, whose dark eyes flashed upon him with a glance at
once mysterious and entrancing, replied that he was the Count of
Flanders and the richest Count under Heaven. He then and there
proposed to the damsel, offering to marry her at once, nor did he
perceive that the wild boar he had lately slain had disappeared, and
even the blood of the battle was gone, while as for the huge head that
he had cut off with his own hands the palfrey upon which the Eastern
princess was seated stood on the very spot. He then blew so loud a
recall upon his horn that it was heard for miles through the great
forest, and presently the lesser counts and knights who formed his
train came riding up. To these he introduced the strange princess and,
despite the prudent counsels of some that it might be well to learn
more about the lady, he forthwith repaired to Cambrai where they were
married in great splendour. The Countess, beautiful as she was, did
not become popular, the people attributing to her the heavy taxes they
had to pay. It was also whispered that she never attended the
elevation of the Host at mass, always leaving before the bell was
rung.

Notwithstanding her unpopularity, and the gossip of the busybodies,
the Count still loved his bride who bore him two children, Jeanne and
Margaret, and ever remained as wonderfully beautiful as the day they
first met in the forest. As they were celebrating Easter one year at
Wynandael with a great feast a pilgrim arrived from the East with news
that the Saracens were besieging Constantinople. He was forthwith
invited into the great hall of the castle and food placed before him,
which he ate eagerly. Just then the Countess entered, with a train of
ladies. At sight of her the pilgrim stopped eating and trembled, while
the Countess turned deadly pale and whispered to her lord to send
that stranger away as he was wicked and meant only evil by coming
there. But the Count bade the pilgrim say whereat he was alarmed,
whereupon the stranger rose and in a loud voice bade the devil who
filled the body of the Countess to depart from it. At this the
Countess rose and confessed she was indeed one of the devils cast out
of Paradise who had inhabited the body of the most beautiful maiden of
the East, the soul having departed from it. With this confession, at
which all present were naturally appalled, she rose in all her beauty
before them and vanished through a window of the hall, nor was she
ever seen or heard of again.

Other chroniclers and historians deny this story, pointing out that
the Count was, in fact, happily married to Marie of Champagne and that
it was the beautiful French Countess and no princess of satanic origin
who bore his two daughters, Jeanne and Margaret. This, in truth, was
the case, but many of the superstitious Flemings believed the tale
about the devil none the less, and the Count's brilliant but tragic
later career caused the story to be repeated and handed down for many
generations.

Only five years after coming to the throne Count Baldwin announced his
intention of going on a crusade, and in the presence of a vast throng
both he and Marie took the cross in the church of St. Donatian at
Bruges. This was in 1199, but the Count was not able to leave his
dominions at once and in the following year he and Marie came to Ypres
to dedicate the foundation stone of the great Cloth Hall. He finally
set out in 1203, but the Venetians compelled the crusaders, in payment
for their passage, to make a campaign which resulted in the capture of
Constantinople, the founding of the Latin Empire, and the election of
Count Baldwin as the first Emperor. Marie, meanwhile, had gone to
Syria by another route and there she died of the plague, only learning
in her last hour that her husband had become an Emperor and that she
was an Empress. Her death was the first of the reverses of fortune in
Baldwin's meteoric career. A year later, in 1205, he fell wounded in a
battle before the walls of Adrianople--or, perhaps, slain. Certain it
is that he disappeared from the world of men and for a space of twenty
years was heard of no more.

Then, in the heart of the great forest that in those days stretched
from Tournai to Valenciennes, some wood-cutters found a long bearded,
white-haired old man, his face covered with scars, living the life of
a hermit in a hut none of them remembered ever having seen before.
Gradually this wonder attracted more and more of the people thereabout
to see the stranger, and men began to say that he resembled the good
Count Baldwin. Some of the nobles who had known the Count heard of it,
visited the hut in the forest, and declared that this was indeed Count
Baldwin and the Emperor.

If he was the Count his country needed him sorely, for the King of
France, Philip Augustus, had during his twenty years' absence all but
made Flanders a French province. When it became clear that Baldwin was
either dead or a prisoner of the pagans Philip had seized his two
daughters--Jeanne being then a girl of fourteen, and Margaret still in
her cradle--claiming their wardship as the dead Count's suzerain. Five
years he kept them, nor did he permit them to return till he had
married Jeanne to a kinsman of his own, Ferdinand of Portugal, who he
thought would be a mere puppet in his hands. Ferdinand, however,
proved to be a man of determination and resisted Philip's seizure of
St. Omer and Aire, two Flemish towns. Philip invaded Flanders with a
great army, capturing Cassel and destroying Damme and all the
merchandise stored there, Lille, Courtrai and many smaller towns.
Ferdinand, unable to resist the superior forces of Philip
single-handed, brought about an alliance with King John of England.
The battle of Bouvines shattered this alliance, and for twelve years
Ferdinand languished in a French prison, while King John was forced to
grant the Magna Carta to his English subjects. Thus a victory for
tyranny in Flanders resulted indirectly in a greater victory for the
cause of freedom in England. Jeanne, while her husband was in prison,
was the titular Countess of Flanders, but Philip kept her completely
under the influence of his counsellors. Margaret, meanwhile, had been
married, but her husband was unable to make head against the
far-reaching power of the King of France.

It was under these circumstances that the hermit who men thought
resembled Count Baldwin came on the stage. If he was an impostor his
_coup_ was shrewdly planned, for Jeanne was as hated by the Flemings
as her father had been loved. If he was really the good Count and the
Emperor his arrival in Flanders seemed to that distracted country like
a direct interposition of Providence. A great delegation from
Valenciennes went out to the forest and hailed him as their Count
and then he at last admitted that he was indeed Baldwin of
Constantinople.

His tale was a strange one, but more easily believed in those wild
days than it would be now. He had, he asserted, been wounded before
Adrianople and made a prisoner by the Bulgarians. While a captive a
Bulgarian princess saw him, fell in love, and contrived to effect his
escape after he had promised to marry her. Once free, however, he
repented of his pledge to marry an infidel, and murdered his
benefactress. This wicked deed was quickly followed by his recapture
by the barbarians, who made him a slave and even a beast of burden.
Escaping at last, after many years, he had become a hermit in penance
for his great sin.

The men of Valenciennes believed this story, and pardoning his
self-confessed crime as of little moment, since it affected only an
infidel, proclaimed him their Count. The great towns of Flanders flung
open their gates to him wherever he went, and finally he held his
court in Bruges. His neighbours, the Dukes of Brabant and Limbourg,
and his former ally, the King of England, acknowledged his claims,
while his daughter Jeanne fled to France for protection.

The chief reason for believing that Baldwin was an impostor is the
fact that at this crisis of his career he failed signally to show any
of the decision and judgment that twenty years before had made the
true Baldwin Emperor. To be sure, twenty years of slavery, and the
haunting memory of the beautiful Marie of Champagne who had followed
him to her death, and of the Bulgarian princess whom he had so basely
slain, may have enfeebled his intellect. He was now an old man. At all
events, after a period of indecision he did the very thing he never
should have done--he appealed to Philip for aid against his daughter.
Summoned to Péronne, where the King of France was then holding court,
he was subjected to a trial by the royal Council, which clearly showed
its determination to convict him as an impostor. Perceiving that he
had blundered into a trap, the old man fled from the castle and
escaped to Flanders. Here, however, the appeal to Philip and its
result, together with much French gold judiciously expended in behalf
of Jeanne, caused the nobility to turn cold. He determined to lay his
cause before the Pope, but while on his way to Rome was captured and
sold to Jeanne who ordered him to be hanged in chains in the
market-place at Lille between two hounds. If he was the true
Baldwin, after all, few careers in history offer wider contrasts of
glory and shame.

[Illustration: HOTEL MERGHELYNCK, YPRES.]

Whether one stays at Ypres a day or a week he will not lack for
objects of interest, for the Cloth Hall and the Cathedral are but the
beginning of the list. A day is hardly too much to devote to the rue
de Lille alone, for here are the Hospice Belle, with a number of
valuable old paintings, and the Hotel-Musée Merghelynck. The latter is
an institution as unique as it is admirable. Built in 1774 by François
Merghelynck, a Treasurer and Grand Bailiff of Ypres, this fine mansion
is filled with furniture and objets d'art of the eighteenth century
coming from Flanders, Holland and France and collected with rare taste
and judgment. In its entirety it represents the residence of a
nobleman of the period, complete down to the smallest detail, with
every article in its proper place, as if the owner had just stepped
out and might be expected back at any moment. The seven principal
rooms are panelled with carved wood. The dining-room is decorated with
bas-reliefs representing all of the principal implements of husbandry.
These were carved by Antony Deledicque of Lille and have been compared
with the work in some of the smaller rooms in the Palace of
Versailles. The music-room is similarly embellished with
representations of musical instruments, and all have fine panel
friezes and gilded carvings. In each room the proprietor of the
mansion, Arthur Merghelynck, the great-grandson of the original owner,
has collected a complete equipment of eighteenth-century furniture.
The dining-room has rare porcelain from Tournai, with the precious
gilt marks of the choicest make, the music-room has an old-time
harpsichord, the kitchen possesses an array of old-time pewter, copper
and brassware. In the chambers the same plan has been faithfully
carried out, even to placing the owner's uniforms and gala raiment in
the wardrobes. Permission to visit these delightful rooms is freely
granted to all visitors to Ypres without charge, other than an
optional fee to the attendant. We were told that natives of the city
are not admitted, but forgot to ask the caretaker if this was true.

A little farther down this same rue de Lille is an old edifice that
for many years has been called the House of the Templars. It has been
restored and is now used as the Post Office--it was for a long time a
brewery--but it is not now believed that this was ever the House of
the famous mediæval order. The Templars, however, did erect at
Ypres their first house in Europe, and it may well be that this
structure was copied from it. Beyond this interesting edifice we
encountered a grim-looking old church, that of St. Peter, within the
doorway of which is a most curious mediæval Calvary. This church is
one of the oldest in Flanders, having been built in 1073 by Robert the
Frisian, one of the early Counts. On this street also stands the
Hospice St. Jean which was founded in 1277. It contains one fine
timbered ceiling room, with panelled walls, called the nuns' workroom,
and some paintings by Kerel van Yper, an obscure local artist of the
sixteenth century.

[Illustration: CHURCH OF ST. PETER, YPRES.]

In this section we were so fortunate as to see the lace workers, of
whom there are still several hundred, making _point de Valenciennes_
outside the doors of their tiny houses. Mrs. Professor never tired of
watching these women,--who are for the most part middle-aged, while
some of them are very old--as their nimble fingers dexterously shifted
the innumerable little bobbins to and fro, while the delicate fabric
slowly took the design upon which they were working. It is said that
more Valenciennes lace is made here at Ypres, and at Courtrai and
among the little Flemish towns between these two cities, than in the
French city from which this fine point derives its name.

It is along the rue de Lille that the visitor will (let us hope!) find
the wooden house that is the last, or nearly the last, survival of a
type of architecture that was once very common in Ypres. It is
inferior to the one in the Cloth Hall, which also came from this
street, but is still in use--although it seemed to be closed when we
passed it. A few steps further on we came to the Porte de Lille with
its three semi-circular towers, erected in 1395. The Porte is
connected with the open country beyond by a bridge across the wide
moat, in which a stately white swan was swimming. The ancient walls,
built by the famous military engineer Vauban, extend here for a long
distance in both directions and are in a fairly good state of
preservation. At the Porte de Thourout, where the fortifications end
on the northeastern side of the town, there is an open-air swimming
pool which, according to the local guidebook is free during certain
hours for men Saturday and Sunday, for women Wednesday, for soldiers
Thursday and Friday, and for ladies Tuesday. The distinction between
the women who can come on Wednesday and the ladies who are admitted
Tuesday is not stated.

From the Porte de Lille we walked along the top of the ramparts toward
the railway station--a promenade full of interest and charm. The broad
moat in which a dozen snow white swans were swimming, the huge trees
arching overhead, the quaint little houses to our right, with now and
then a narrow street bending back into the town as if inviting us to
follow and explore it--everything seemed to combine to make this one
of our pleasantest experiences in Flanders, and we regretted that we
did not have weeks instead of days in which to study this rare old
town and visit some of the charming old Flemish villages by which it
is surrounded.

The causes for the decline of the city from the proud position it
occupied in the Middle Ages to its comparative insignificance to-day
can be sketched in a very few words. Like the rest of Flanders, it had
flourished exceedingly in consequence of the Hundred Years' War
between France and England. As commerce and industry in these
two great neighbouring countries declined, that of the Low
Countries--which were then enjoying a prolonged period of comparative
peace--augmented with abnormal rapidity. It was inevitable that when
peace across the frontier was restored much of the trade that France
had temporarily lost should return to it. A series of great sieges cut
off the wool traffic with England that formed the foundation of the
city's industry and prosperity. The first of these was in 1383 when
the guildsmen of Ypres successfully beat off a powerful army from
Ghent, aided by a large contingent from England. The plague, that
terror of every overcrowded industrial town in those days, swept off
thousands of people in 1347 and in 1490, and a third of the
inhabitants in 1552. These disasters still further crippled the cloth
industry. In 1583 and 1584 an eight months' siege and the plague
together reduced the population so fearfully that when the town at
last surrendered to the Prince of Parma barely five thousand remained.
After the religious wars were over it recovered some of its ancient
prosperity, but between 1648 and 1678 it was besieged no less than
four times, being a border town and one of the first to be attacked as
the fortunes of war swayed, first one way and then the other. Roused
by the ravages of the plague the magistrates cleaned the city, passed
stringent sanitary regulations, paved the streets and built a costly
system of sewers--Ypres being one of the first cities in Europe to
have these modern improvements. Wise as these steps were, they came
too late to arrest the decline of the town's industries and commerce.
One by one the artisans gave up the battle against the forces that
were sapping the foundations of their prosperity and moved away--some
to Ghent and Bruges, both of which were already beginning to decline;
others to far-off England, where they remained to lay the foundations
of the vast textile industry that has since grown up across the
Channel, but which traces its origin back to the artisans of Ypres in
the days when the fame of that until lately all but forgotten town was
known from one end of the world to the other.

CHAPTER VIII

COURTRAI AND THE BATTLE OF THE SPURS

Our next expedition, after the delightful visit at Ypres, was to
Courtrai, which is only twenty-two miles distant, although the two
plodding little _omnibus_ trains that we took, one after the other,
were more than an hour getting us there. It was an hour most
pleasantly spent, however, for we were constantly on the lookout for
the fields of flax that we had read covered the valley of the River
Lys as far as eye could see. If this was ever so it certainly was not
the case in the summer of 1914, for there were more and larger fields
of barley and other small grains than of flax. Still, we saw a great
many plantings of the latter, and as the plant was in full bloom the
sight was a very pretty one--the delicate green of each field being
faintly tinged with the blue of the tiny flowers. It did not seem to
be very tall, but it was still early June and a very backward summer.
We also passed many fields in which the flax of the previous season
was stacked to bleach, evidently the crop from several fields being
concentrated into one for this purpose. The water of the River Lys,
from which some authorities say the French Fleur de Lys derives its
name, is said to be superior to that of all other rivers for the
retting of flax, and at all events the raising and preparation of this
important staple has been the leading industry in this region for
centuries, although Ghent is more important as a flax manufacturing
centre.

Presently our destination, of which the Flemish name is Kortrijk, came
in sight, and we started--with the Professor leading the way, as
usual--for the Grande Place. Here we found a market going on, with
numerous booths and stalls arranged in crooked little streets, and
crowds of thick-set peasant women with big baskets examining the wares
displayed gingerly as if afraid that too great a display of interest
would cause the merchants to enhance their prices. Amid this bustle
and confusion we worked our way slowly to the centre of the Place
where stood the small ivy-covered Belfry, which dates from early in
the fourteenth century, and is one of the prettiest in Flanders. When
the city was sacked in 1382, after one of its many sieges, the Belfry
was one of the few edifices to escape injury. Repaired or restored in
1423, in 1519, and again in 1717, this little monument of the Middle
Ages has come down to us in an admirable state of preservation.
Originally connected with a small public market, _les petites halles_,
it gradually came to be surrounded with private houses until only its
spire was visible, but in 1899 these were torn down and the Belfry
left isolated as it is now. The clock originally placed on this tower
is said by the historian Froissart to have been "_l'un des plus biaux
que on seuist trouver decha ne dela la mer_"--one of the most
beautiful here or abroad--but was removed by Philip the Bold, the
first of the Burgundian Dukes to rule over Flanders, to Dijon, the
capital of Burgundy. This was in 1382, but in 1395 the people of
Courtrai had replaced it by another equally ingenious. We tried to
enter the old tower, but found one entrance guarded by the alarming
sign, "_Haute tension--danger de la mort_," indicating that the
electric light company used the lower part of the edifice as a
transforming station. There was another small doorway, but it did not
appear to have been opened for a long time, and we could find no one
who knew who had the key.

When we first announced our intention to spend a Summer in Flanders
many friends protested, "But you do not speak Flemish--how do you
expect to get along?" Right here it may be stated that this bugbear
proved without foundation. Even in Ypres, where our Belgian
acquaintances said we surely would have trouble, we found only two or
three of those with whom we had occasion to converse who did not
understand French at least well enough to give us the information we
required. On a few occasions, when touring the poorer quarters of some
old Flemish town, we were non-plussed for a moment, but the children
helped us out in these emergencies by running off eagerly to find some
one who spoke French. Everywhere we found the people accommodating and
courteous, never surly as one author says those he met in these very
same towns were when he visited them half a dozen years ago. To be
sure, our visits seldom took us into the very little towns, where, no
doubt, Flemish is often spoken exclusively--as our experience in
Nieuport showed.

The most curious fact about the little Kingdom of Belgium is that it
is sharply bi-lingual, the line of demarcation between the French and
the Flemish speaking provinces running across the country from
southwest to northeast a little to the south of Brussels; that city,
however, being far more French than Flemish. Most of the towns have
two names, which usually mean the same but are often so different in
form that it is a wonder the people themselves do not get mixed up now
and then. For example, the French name for the capital of the province
of Hainaut is Mons, meaning mountain, while the Flemish name is
Bergen, which means the same thing but looks very different. The
important railroad junction of Braine-le-Comte between Mons and
Brussels bears the queer Flemish name of 's Graven-Brakel. Even the
postage stamps and the paper money are printed in the two languages,
while the silver money is apparently minted in equal quantities of
each. All public employés are required by law to know both languages,
so that the public has no trouble either at the railway stations or
post-offices. According to official statistics published while we were
there, 38.17 per cent. of the population of the country speak only
French; 43.38 per cent. speak only Flemish; while 18.13 per cent.
speak more than one language and a few speak German only. Of the
bi-linguals over 60 per cent. declared that they ordinarily spoke
Flemish.

Facing the Grande Place, and only a few steps from the Belfry, is the
Hotel de Ville, an unprepossessing structure externally, although the
historians say that it was once much better looking. It has, at all
events, been restored, and the statues of the Counts of Flanders that
were destroyed during the Revolution replaced by modern ones carved by
a local sculptor. After finding the concierge we were shown a small
collection of modern paintings by Belgian artists bequeathed to the
city by one of its wealthy sons. This, however, was merely _en route_,
as it were, to the great show-place of this--as of all other Flemish
hotels de ville--the Salle du Conseil. Here the _pièce de résistance_
is the great chimney-piece, carved in 1525 by unknown sculptors, who
probably were natives of the city as there were several of good renown
residing and working there at that period. The elaborate carvings with
which this masterpiece is decorated comprise three tiers. At the top
the figures represent the virtues: Faith, Humility, Charity, Chastity,
Generosity, Temperance, Patience and Vigilance. In the middle section
a series of pictures carved in stone typify the vices: Idolatry,
Pride, Avarice, Sensuality, Jealousy, Gluttony, Anger and Idleness.
The lowest tier contains reliefs that are supposed to show the
punishment for these vices, although the idea is not always quite
easy to follow. In niches projecting from the middle section are fine
statues, carved from wood, of Charles V in the centre, with Justice
and Peace on the opposite sides. At the right and left sides of the
chimney-piece are two more tiers of carvings, but of inferior interest
to those on the front. The beamed ceiling of this fine room is worthy
of at least a glance, for on the corbels supporting it are some of the
most curious carvings to be seen in Flanders, representing the
conquests of woman over man--beginning with Adam and Eve and Samson
and Delilah, and including several examples from pagan mythology.

We were next conducted down-stairs to the Salle Echevinale, where
there is another fine chimney-piece which, however, was much less
interesting than the one we had just seen. This room is further
embellished with several frescoes by Guffens and Swerts, examples of
whose work we had already seen at Ypres. The former artist painted the
large composition entitled the "Departure of Baldwin IX for
Constantinople," and the latter the more interesting picture of the
Consultation of the Flemish leaders in this very room the day before
the Battle of Courtrai. Smaller frescoes depict other notable scenes
in the old town's history, while small carvings near the ceiling
represent the chief virtues of an upright judge.

On a hot July day, in the year 1302, there took place, just outside
the ancient walls of the city, the most famous event in the history of
Courtrai. This was the great "Battle of the Spurs." In order to
understand the significance of this conflict--which justly ranks as
one of the decisive battles of the world--it is necessary to go back
three-quarters of a century to the Baldwin of Constantinople, or the
impostor who assumed his name and came to an ignominious end on the
gibbet at Lille. This was in the year 1225. The following year Philip
Augustus forced or persuaded Margaret, Baldwin's younger daughter, to
leave the loyal Fleming to whom she had been married almost since
childhood and wed one of his retainers, William of Dampierre. Then,
during a period of more than fifty years, the Kings of France were
able to exert a steadily increasing influence in Flanders and reduce
the country more and more completely to a French province. Finally, in
1296, the exactions of the French monarch--who, at that time, was
Philip the Fair--became so humiliating that Margaret's son, Guy of
Dampierre, then the reigning Count, rebelled. A brief war followed,
ending in Guy's utter defeat and imprisonment, and in 1300 all
Flanders was formally annexed to the French crown.

Instead of submitting tamely to this act of aggression, the Flemish
burghers were roused to fight more furiously for their fatherland than
they had ever done for their Count. At Bruges a true leader of the
people appeared in the person of Peter de Coninck, the dean of the
then all-powerful Guild of the Weavers, and one of the most
picturesque figures in mediæval history. Small and ill-favoured in
face and figure, with only one eye, and speaking no language but
Flemish, he was able to arouse the citizens to the wildest pitch of
fury against their aggressors. Another popular hero of the hour was
John Breidel, Dean of the Butchers' Guild, and reputed to be one of
the richest men in Bruges; while a third was William of Juliers,
Provost of Maestricht--a Churchman turned soldier for the cause of
liberty. These three raised the standard of the Lion of Flanders to
which rallied the Clauwaerts, as the Nationalist partisans were
called; while the friends of France were named--after the Lily of
France--the Liliaerts. The latter naturally included the magistrates
and office-holders of the leading towns, and in 1301, when Philip
made a triumphal progress through the chief cities of his new
dominions, he was everywhere received with much outward pomp.

[Illustration: STATUE OF PETER DE CONINCK AND JOHN BREIDEL, BRUGES.]

At Bruges the official reception was the most gorgeous of all, the
rich gowns of the wives and daughters of the burghers causing Queen
Isabella to exclaim, "I thought I was alone Queen, but here I see six
hundred!" The mass of the people, however, were cold and sullen, and
when the King proclaimed some public games no one would take part in
them. Hardly had the royal party left the city before an insurrection
broke out. De Coninck was arrested, but his followers burst into the
prison, and, for a time, the leaders of the Liliaerts were behind the
bars. A French force soon entered the city and set them free, and De
Coninck fled to Damme, where the Lion of Flanders waved unmolested
over a rapidly increasing host of Clauwaerts.

On the 17th of May, 1302, a still stronger army of French entered the
city, and it was rumoured that a general massacre of the Clauwaerts
was planned for the morrow. Without waiting for the blow to be struck,
the men from Damme and the surrounding towns, under the leadership of
De Coninck and John Breidel, poured into the city before daybreak and
roaring "_Schilt end vriendt_"--a battle-cry and password that no
Frenchman could pronounce--they overwhelmed the partisans of the Lily.
So sudden and unexpected was the attack, in the darkness and among
narrow streets with which they were not acquainted, that the two
thousand French knights who had entered the city so gaily on the
previous day could offer no resistance and were slaughtered almost to
a man. Barely forty escaped to tell King Philip of the massacre, while
no record was made of the number of Liliaerts among the Flemings
themselves who were in the heaps of dead that for three days
thereafter were being buried in the fields outside of the city. This
was the famous Matin de Bruges, hardly a glorious day's work
considered as a feat of arms, but bold enough when regarded as a
defiance by the artisans of a single industrial town of the most
powerful monarch of the age.

Philip, as was to be expected, was furious, and at once gathered an
army the like of which had never before been seen in France; while all
Flanders, with the exception of Ghent which the French still held,
rallied to the support of De Coninck and his comrades. Scores of
Flemish nobles were at that time languishing in French prisons, but
those who were free to come enlisted under the Lion of Flanders. The
army of defence consisted for the most part, however, of
workingmen--members of the great guilds of Bruges, Ypres, Audenaerde
and the other Flemish towns, with seven hundred even from Ghent. Each
guild marched under its gorgeous banner, the men armed with long
pikes, iron lances, short swords, and a sort of club which they
derisively called "_goedendag_," or "good morning." On the eve of the
battle a conference was held by the leaders of the army of defence,
this being the scene depicted in the fine fresco in the Hotel de
Ville.

About nine or ten in the morning of the following day the French army,
some forty thousand strong, was seen approaching, led by the youthful
Count of Artois. After a reconnoitre two experienced officers advised
the young Prince not to attack the Flemings at once, but to worry them
with his archers and separate them from the town where their baggage
and provisions were. "These people have to eat three, or four times a
day--when they start to retreat, fall on them, you will quickly win,"
they counselled him.

This sage advice did not appeal to the impetuous young Count, or to
his valiant knights, who were burning with eagerness to avenge the
Matin de Bruges. They confidently expected that at the very sight of
their host, for the most part mounted knights, the cowardly townsmen
would turn and run. Nor did they pay much heed to the shrewdness and
skill with which the Flemish leaders had chosen their position. In the
marshy ground in front of the Flemish army were many streams and
canals, the water concealed by brushwood, while the River Lys and the
fortifications of the town protected them against an attack on either
flank or in the rear.

As the French knights rode forward the first ranks plunged into the
hidden canals and streams with which the marsh--since known as the
Bloed Meersch, or Bloody Marsh--was intersected. Then, as five
centuries later at Waterloo, each succeeding rank pushed in the one
before it, the canals became choked with drowning men and struggling
horses, and it was not until these obstacles were literally filled
with dead bodies that any part of the great French host could approach
the Flemish lines. Then the Flemish guildsmen were for a moment hard
pressed, but they quickly rallied and the proud French nobles were
beaten down beneath their cruel pikes and clubs by hundreds. The Count
of Artois himself led the reserves into the mêlée when the day was all
but lost and fought his way clear to the great standard of the Lion of
Flanders, at the foot of which he fell. Their leader killed, the
French sought to flee, but the rout and slaughter lasted through the
long summer twilight and far into the night.

According to an ancient chronicle, twenty thousand Frenchmen went down
to death that day, including seven thousand knights, eleven hundred
nobles, seven hundred lords, and sixty-three counts, dukes or princes.
As to these statistics they differ in every history, but certain it is
that the flower of French chivalry perished in unheard of numbers
before the onslaught of the Flemish townsmen, and it is said that in
all France there was no great house that did not mourn a father, a
brother or a son.

To the men of Flanders, on the other hand, the victory was complete
beyond their wildest dreams. They piously gave thanks to Notre Dame de
Groeninghe, the Abbey overlooking the Bloody Marsh, and hung up seven
hundred golden spurs taken from the battlefield in the Church of Notre
Dame. For a time Philip the Fair sought to prolong the conflict, but
his losses had been too terrible in this battle for him to risk
another one against the now thoroughly aroused guildsmen, and a few
years later a treaty was signed that completely rescinded the act of
annexation and recognised the independence of Flanders once more.

In the little Museum of Paintings we found a most interesting picture
of the famous battle by the great Belgian artist, Nicaise de Keyser.
It is said that the historian Voisin suggested this subject to the
painter, then a young man of twenty-three, and he devoted eight months
to its execution. Exhibited at the Salon at Brussels in 1836, it made
a sensation through its merit, the historical importance of the
subject and the youth of the artist, and was purchased by the city of
Courtrai by means of a popular subscription. It represents the
decisive moment of the battle when the Count of Artois, unhorsed and
disarmed, is about to be killed by the leader of the butchers' guild,
John Breidel. The museum contains a number of other interesting works
by Belgian painters, chiefly modern, including one by Constantin
Meunier, and a number by natives of Courtrai. This last feature is
characteristic of all these little museums and is a most happy idea.
In France the museums of fine arts in the provincial towns often form
in themselves admirable memorials of the famous artists who were born
or worked there, the names of the most important being carved about
the frieze or brought to mind in some equally prominent way. In years
to come it is to be hoped that these little Flemish towns can follow
this example and erect suitable structures to house their art
treasures--of which such a collection as this one at Courtrai forms a
fine nucleus--and in so doing strive to commemorate all of those to
whom the town is indebted for its artistic fame. In the case of
Courtrai the roster would be a long one, for local authorities have
recorded the names of more than two hundred painters, sculptors,
architects, engravers, metal-workers, miniaturists and master-makers
of tapestries.

Unlike many Flemish towns, Courtrai is less renowned for its churches
than for its civic monuments. The great church of St. Martin, whose
picturesque Gothic tower rises high above the Grande Place, although
the edifice itself is some hundred yards distant from the Place
itself, dates from 1382, when an older church on the same site was
burned by the victorious troops of Charles VI when they sacked the
city after the Battle of Rosbecque. It was completed in 1439 and
contains a number of interesting paintings and carvings, several of
them by local artists and sculptors. The more important Church of
Notre Dame, with its square unfinished tower, dates from 1211 and was
founded by Baldwin of Constantinople. At that time the Counts of
Flanders had a castle at Courtrai and it was at the side of this that
Count Baldwin and his fair wife Marie located their great church, of
which the foundation stone was laid before the Count departed on the
crusade from which he was destined never to return. In the Chapel of
the Counts, which was built in the fourteenth century, are mural
paintings of the Counts and Countesses of Flanders, the earlier ones
dating from the century during which the chapel itself was
constructed.

The artistic masterpiece of this church is the "Raising of the Cross,"
by Van Dyck. This fine picture was painted for this very church and
was delivered by the artist in 1631, the church still possessing his
receipt for the one hundred livres de gros (about two hundred and
twenty dollars) paid for it. In 1794 the picture was carried to Paris
and placed in the Louvre, and on its restoration to the Netherlands
was several years in the museum at Brussels, being returned to its
proper place in Notre Dame in 1817. During the night of December
6th-7th, 1907, it was mysteriously stolen, its disappearance causing a
great commotion, but January 23rd it was discovered in a field at
Pitthem, where it had lain exposed to the rain and sunshine since its
removal from the church. Apparently the robbers had become frightened
and abandoned it, or possibly were prevented from returning to get it
by the hue and cry that had been raised. At any rate, it did not seem
to be much the worse for its little outing, and was duly hung up again
where any tourist who has a franc to spare can see it.

It was in Notre Dame that the victors after the battle of Courtrai
hung up seven hundred golden spurs, more or less, picked up from the
battle-field. These were hung in a little side chapel at present
decorated by two black lions, but the original spurs were taken away
when the French sacked the city after the disastrous battle of
Rosbecque.

A little beyond this interesting old church the rue Guido
Gezelle--named after the poet who for many years was a _vicaire_ at
Notre Dame and whose bust stands in a little _bosquet_, or wooded
parklet, hard by--conducts us to the famous old Broel towers which
guard an ancient bridge across the Lys. These fine specimens of
mediæval military architecture are in an admirable state of
preservation. The Spuytorre, or Southern tower, was first built by
Philip of Alsace in the twelfth century, was pillaged, and perhaps
wholly destroyed, by Charles VI and restored or rebuilt by Philip the
Bold, Duke of Burgundy, in 1386. There was not much to see in this
tower, save some dungeons below. The Inghelbrugtorre, or South tower,
was built at the same time as the bridge, in 1411-1413. There was
formerly an archeological museum in this tower, but we were told that
it had been removed to the Grandes Halles, near the railroad station,
which have recently been restored. We subsequently visited the
collections there, which were very interesting but too miscellaneous
to be described. Returning from the towers by the rue de Groeninghe we
paid a brief visit to the fine monument of the Battle of Groeninghe,
which is the Flemish name for the Battle of the Spurs. At the summit a
bronze Pucelle of Flanders brandishes a _goedendag_, one of the
celebrated war-clubs that did such deadly work on that famous day.
This monument, by Godefroid Devreese, a native of Courtrai, was
erected by popular subscription in 1905.

It is in these smaller Flemish towns that the visitor who takes the
time to journey a little away from the closely built houses and rough
paved streets of the city will find himself after a few minutes of
brisk walking out in the green fields and winding lanes of the open
country. The trip is well worth the small exertion, for nowhere in the
world can one see such marvellous wild flowers--_fleurs des
champs_--as in Belgium. Every wheat field is sprinkled with the most
wonderful poppies, of a rich deep red that even the choicest
artificial flowers in America cannot equal; with blue corn-flowers
growing tall and big and of an indescribably deep blue that at times
shades into purple; and along the edges is a thin fringe of small
purple flowers, shaped like morning glories but much smaller, the
English name of which I do not know. In the grass of the pasture lands
are innumerable tiny white marguerites, with here and there a tuft of
daisies. Along the country lanes one can pick a score of other
varieties of wild flowers which here bloom all summer long, not to
mention the exquisite purple heather that makes every hillside glow
with colour in August and throughout the fall. To us, however, the
wheat fields with the poppies and corn-flowers were by far the most
charming as we wandered up and down West Flanders in the month of
June. Often one or the other grew so profusely as to give the whole
field a rich mass of colour, at times all red, in other places a solid
blue.

As we strolled along through these flower gardens of the fields we
enjoyed still another treat, for everywhere in Belgium the skylarks
abound in myriads. To one who has never heard them there are few
enjoyments more exquisite than to watch and listen as these tiny
minstrels of the sky go through their little performance. Suddenly,
almost before the eye can locate it, one shoots upward from the waving
wheat in front of us, his rich trills fairly making the air vibrate
with melody. Higher and yet higher he goes, his little wings
struggling wildly, as if the effort of flying and singing at the same
time was too much for him. Never, for an instant, however, does the
music stop, and as his tiny form rises farther and farther into the
air he gradually begins to drive forward in a wide curve--but still
rising and still fluttering madly--until he becomes a mere speck
against the sky. Then, all at once, the fluttering wings spread
outward and are still, and he begins to volplane slowly downward in a
long slow sweep, while his notes become if possible more shrill and
vibrating than ever. Then, like a flash, as he nears the ground, he
darts sharply out of sight and the song is over.

All day long the pleasant, flower-bedecked fields ring with this
music--at times a dozen are singing in the air at once. When the sun
is high the birds often rise until completely out of sight, only their
falling music telling the listener that they are still there. Toward
evening the flights are shorter, but as the calm of approaching night
settles over the broad and peaceful fields it seems as if the songs
are sweeter than at any other time.

Two of the greatest English poets have given us wonderful word
pictures of this marvellous little bird, which surely sings as sweetly
in Belgium as in England. Shelley in his famous Ode, describes the
song itself; his metre imitating the breathless rush of the aerial
notes:

"Hail to thee, blithe spirit!
Bird thou never wert,
That from Heaven, or near it,
Pourest thy full heart
In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.

"Higher still and higher
From the earth thou springest,
Like a cloud of fire;
The deep blue thou wingest,
And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest."

In Wordsworth's noble lines the thought is less upon the song, but
dwells upon the mother bird and her hidden nest:

"Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky!
Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound?
Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye
Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground?
Thy nest, which thou canst drop into at will,
Those quivering wings composed, that music still!"

CHAPTER IX

GHENT IN THE DAYS OF THE FLEMISH COUNTS

During the Middle Ages Ghent was, for nearly five centuries, one of
the greatest cities in the Occidental world. "If you have ever been in
Flanders," wrote Jean Froissart, near the close of the fourteenth
century, "you are aware that Ghent is the sovereign city of Flanders
in power, in wisdom, in government, in the number of its houses, in
position and in all else that goes to make a great and noble city, and
that three great rivers serve to bring to it ships from every part of
the world." After further eulogising the three rivers referred to,
which were the Scheldt, the Lys and the Lieve, the chronicler of
Valenciennes added that the city could put eighty thousand men in the
field, and that it would require a host of two hundred thousand
warriors to capture it. These statements, though no doubt
exaggerations, do not seem to the tourist so impossible of belief as
corresponding figures regarding the former greatness of the other
cities in Flanders, for Ghent is still "a great and noble city," while
some of its once puissant rivals are now little more than country
villages. In fact, to the visitor who approaches the centre of the
town from either of its two principal railway stations--it has five in
all--the city seems to be essentially a modern one, with fine streets
similar in every way to those to be found in Antwerp or Brussels, and
it is therefore with a shock of surprise that he suddenly finds
himself riding past one hoary old structure after another whose
frowning grey walls and massive architecture bespeak an antiquity
strangely at variance with their surroundings.

To the Professor, and to all students of the thrilling history of this
famous old Flemish town, the most interesting of these reminders of
the Ghent of five hundred or one thousand years ago is the imposing
Château des Comtes, or Castle of the Counts, the ruins of which stand
in the very heart of the town with the busy life and bustle of the
Ghent of to-day surging about them. Hither, as soon as our belongings
were safely deposited in the hotel, we came--almost as a matter of
course. In part this magnificent relic of the feudal ages dates from
the ninth century, when it was called the new castle, _Novum
Castellum_, to distinguish it from a still older castle situated hard
by that was destroyed about the year 1010. Two of the three stories
composing this original structure are still intact and can be seen by
the visitor when he inspects the cellar of the keep. Here the columns
and arches are of later construction, but the walls--which are over
five and a half feet thick--are the work of builders who put these
stones in place more than a thousand years ago. It was in 1180,
according to the Latin inscription that can still be read just inside
of the main entrance from the Place Ste. Pharaïlde, that Philip of
Alsace--son of the Dierick of Alsace who brought the Holy Blood to the
chapel of St. Basil at Bruges--erected the present structure. Its
purpose was "to check the unbounded arrogance of the inhabitants of
Ghent, who had become too proud of their riches and of their fortified
houses, which looked like towers." The Count had been in Palestine two
years before and had greatly admired some of the strong castles
erected there by the crusaders and instructed his builders to imitate
these models, which he no doubt described to them.

[Illustration: Photograph by E. Sacré. CASTLE OF THE COUNTS, GHENT.]

After inspecting the remains of the earlier castle we mounted the
staircase at the left of the entrance tower. This leads to the top of
the outer castle wall and can be followed entirely around the great
ellipse formed by the complete structure. From every side fine views
can be had of the surrounding city and the moat and River Lieve which
guard the castle on the opposite side from the Place. Coming to the
square tower behind the entrance gateway we were shown a room on the
first story formerly used as a prison and torture chamber. From the
top of this tower the banner of the Count was hoisted when the men of
Ghent were called upon to follow their over-lord to war. The gateway
below, at the corner of the Place Ste. Pharaïlde and the rue de la
Monnaie, has a tragic interest from the fact that here were placed the
two railings, called _les bailles_, between which those sentenced to
death by the Council of Flanders were executed. Executions also often
took place in the outer courtyard between the exterior wall and the
Keep, or inner structure. In this yard, in 1445, the procession of the
Order of the Golden Fleece formed for its march to the church of St.
Bavon, and one can imagine how gay with banners and fair ladies the
old castle must have been on that occasion.

The inner castle, usually styled the Palace, was the actual residence
of the Counts of Flanders whenever they chanced to be stopping in the
city. Thanks to the skilful restoration of the government, the various
parts of this edifice can be seen in approximately their original
condition, save for the rich tapestries and the scant but solid
furniture with which the rooms were formerly made habitable. The
chambers of the Count and Countess are particularly fine specimens of
the living quarters of the mediæval nobility, quite apart from their
many historic associations. Below the former is the entrance to the
underground prison built by Philip of Alsace. It is eighteen feet
deep, and extends ten and one-half feet below the level of the
courtyard, while one of the walls is seven and the others six feet
thick. A little air filters in from a zig-zag opening in one wall, but
no light. The prisoners were let down into this horrible cavern by
means of a ladder, or a basket attached to a rope, after which even
the opening by which they entered was closed and they were left alone
in the dark. For more than six centuries this cell was in constant
use, and one cannot but wonder whether milady the Countess in her
sweet chamber overhead ever had her dreams troubled by visions of the
despairing victims in their beds of slime who were here awaiting the
Count's decision as to their final fate. It seems that this prison,
fearful though it must have been to those incarcerated there, was not
one of those _oubliettes_ of which the Bastille and many another
mediæval castle had so many. So far as known, it was only used for
prisoners awaiting trial, or as a species of solitary confinement for
serious crimes. In 1657 a school-teacher accused of teaching heretical
doctrines to his pupils was confined here thirteen months, but there
is no record of any one being flung down into this pit to be
"forgotten." Still, it must be said that such proceedings would not be
likely to become a matter of record, and very little is known about
what went on behind these grim walls when the Counts of Flanders and
Dukes of Burgundy held absolute and undisputed sway. Any one who asked
inconvenient questions would very probably have come here himself!

The Great Hall, which is about one hundred and twenty-five feet long
by from fifty to sixty feet in width, is a chapter in the history of
Flanders by itself. Here the Counts, and their successors, the Dukes
of Burgundy, held many of their great banquets and state functions of
various kinds. Louis of Maele in 1346 and Philip the Good in 1445 gave
state banquets in this hall of which long accounts have been preserved
in the contemporary chronicles. The latter, which was held on the
occasion of the seventh meeting of the Knights of the Golden Fleece
already mentioned, must have been quite a tremendous affair. At one
end of this Hall the Council of the Vieux-Bourg used to pronounce
sentence upon prisoners, and half a dozen famous treaties and many of
minor importance were proclaimed in this room. No doubt, also, the
Great Hall was used as the chief living-room of the castle on less
formal occasions, when the Count and Countess perhaps dined on a
raised dais at one end, while the throng of courtiers and retainers
feasted noisily farther down the hall. On such occasions one can
imagine how the great stone fireplace, a dozen feet wide and seven or
eight feet high, must have roared, while the torches and candles used
to supplement the feeble light from the narrow windows flared and sent
their smoke up to the grimy rafters overhead. The great room, now so
empty and silent, was then gay with the variegated costumes of the
olden time, while its walls echoed to the songs and laughter of the
boisterous throng.

There are half a score of other rooms to be seen: the kitchen with its
fireplace big enough to roast an ox whole; the residence of the
Castellane or keeper of the castle; the small audience chamber near
the bedrooms of their highnesses--which was used on ordinary occasions
instead of the great hall--and several others. Of them all the most
interesting is the ancient stable, which is entered from the castle
yard. It seems hard to believe that this vast vaulted room, with its
splendid columns and Romanesque arches was ever designed or used as a
stable, but such the historians all aver was the case. In appearance
it resembles an early church or chapel. In a glass case at one side is
a gruesome collection of skeletons that were uncovered here in 1904,
presumably those of prisoners who were secretly executed no one knows
how many years ago. After the fourteenth century the castle ceased to
be occupied by the sovereigns as a residence, and the stable, no
longer needed for horses, became a torture chamber and continued to be
used for this purpose until the close of the eighteenth century. It is
here that the beautiful and unfortunate Jacqueline, Countess of
Hainaut and Holland, is said to have been confined by Philip the Good
when that amiable monarch was trying to persuade her to part with her
patrimony. She resisted bravely and was finally released, but her
powerful and wily antagonist subjugated her at last. The Professor
read, or was told, that there is another prison cell below the waters
of the moat, and also a passage, miles in length, leading out to the
open country and intended for escape in case a foe besieging the
castle seemed likely to take it, but these we were not able to
discover nor did the official guide to the castle appear to know
anything about them.

Speaking of sieges, the castle has witnessed more than one. The _Novum
Castellum_, which preceded the present edifice, was besieged in 1128
by Dierick of Alsace. In 1302, a few months before the Battle of the
Spurs, the citizens of Ghent rose en masse against the sheriffs of
King Philip of France, who took refuge here. The infuriated crowd,
armed with pikes, axes and swords, beat upon the gates and finally set
fire to the castle. At this the besieged gave up, and all within were
forced to run a fearful gauntlet. Without the castle gates the people
formed a dense mass, bristling with pikes and spears, through which a
narrow lane was kept open. As the late defenders of the castle emerged
they had to pass down this avenue of steel, and whoever had committed
any crime against the burghers never reached the farther end alive,
whether he was one of the lord high sheriffs or a page. In 1338 the
Count himself, Louis of Maele, was here besieged by Jacques Van
Artevelde, and forced to make terms with the great tribune.

The later history of the structure itself is interesting and curious.
Already in 1302 hovels had been built against the castle walls on the
land side. In 1350 a mint was installed within the castle, where it
remained until suppressed in the sixteenth century, and from the same
year the Court of the Count held sessions here. It was used less and
less as a residence after this, but from 1407 to 1778 was the seat of
the Council of Flanders, which succeeded the Court of the Counts. In
1779 the buildings used by the court were sold and in 1797 and 1798
those of the Assembly of the Vieux Bourg also passed into private
hands. The Castellany of the Vieux Bourg was for many years a public
inn, and in 1807 a factory was established in the Keep, the Great Hall
being used as a machine-room. The Castellany then became a cotton
spinning mill, was partly burned in 1829, but rebuilt and continued in
use as a mill until 1884. Meanwhile other small buildings were
erected around the old walls until they were entirely concealed, and a
guidebook of this period states that of the old castle "nothing now
remains but the entrance." In 1887 some archeologists stirred the
municipal and national governments to action with a view to saving and
restoring this splendid monument of the Middle Ages, the Gateway
having already been acquired by the nation in 1872. The work of
demolishing the buildings that had clustered about the old walls and
of restoration lasted from 1889 till 1913, when at last the structure
was brought into the condition that the visitor beholds to-day. In its
present form it is unquestionably one of the most interesting and
important examples of feudal architecture in Europe. Within its sombre
walls the student has, in records of stone, an epitome of the history
of ten centuries.

The Professor informed us that, in the course of his researches, he
had run across a reference to some legend or popular tradition
concerning a siege of Ghent in the year 930, or thereabouts, by the
Kings of England, Scotland and Ireland. The city, according to this
tale, was bravely defended by Dierick, Lord of Dixmude, and all the
attacks of the besiegers were repelled for many months. Their
majesties from across the Channel were naturally much incensed at this
unexpected resistance, and warned the burghers and their valiant chief
that if they did not surrender within twenty-four hours, they would
raze the city to the ground and sow corn on its ruins. Notwithstanding
this threat, to the fulfilment of which the kings aforesaid took a
mighty oath, the men of Ghent fought stubbornly on, and finally the
besiegers were forced to give up their enterprise. The English
monarch, however, in order to fulfil his vow and thereby ease his
conscience, humbly begged permission of the victors to allow him to
throw a grain of corn in the market-place. This modest request was
granted, but to prevent any such stratagem as the one that proved so
successful in the famous siege of Troy, a tiny hole was made in the
city wall and the monarch required to crawl through alone, returning
the same way after the corn-throwing performance was over. From this
circumstance the name of Engelande-gat was derisively given to the
little street leading from the Bestroom-Porte to St. Michel--a name
which Pryse L. Gordon in his book on Holland and Belgium, written in
1834, stated was still retained at that time. We were unable to find
it, however, in one of our early morning tramps, although we found a
rue d'Angleterre which runs into the Place St. Michel directly in
front of the church, and may have derived its name from that of the
earlier street which, quite possibly, it may have replaced. The great
plan of the city drawn by Hondius shows a vast number of streets and
lanes that to-day have entirely disappeared. The legend, however, may
have had some basis in fact, although the three kings were no doubt a
fanciful embellishment added by the peasants as they repeated the
story of some early attack. There were plenty of small potentates in
those days prowling about to seize whatever was not well defended, or
gave promise of rich booty, without going across the Channel to look
for them.

It was at about this period, in fact a little earlier, that another of
the famous "monuments" of Ghent was erected. This is the Abbey of St.
Bavon, which alone would justify a visit to the city if there were
nothing else to see. A primitive abbey on this site is said to have
been founded about the year 631 by St. Amand, an early missionary, who
dedicated it to St. Peter. One of this prelate's converts was a rich
nobleman named Allowin, who took the name of Bavon on his conversion
and retired into a monastery. A second abbey took the name of St.
Bavon, the deceased monk having been canonized, and around these two
religious institutions a little settlement grew up that was destined
to expand into the mighty city of Ghent. At St. Bavon, therefore, the
visitor beholds not merely the ruins of an ancient and famous abbey
but the birthplace of the city that has played so great a part in the
history of Flanders and of Europe. When Baldwin II died his widow, the
daughter of Alfred the Great, had him buried at the monastery of St.
Peter, to which she made liberal donations. Successive Counts and
Countesses followed this example, the two abbeys becoming rich and
powerful, and the town soon became the home of numerous merchants who
took advantage of the protection afforded by these religious
institutions, and also of the strategic location of the town at the
junction of three rivers. The Quai au Blé and the Quai aux Herbes date
from this epoch, the merchants speedily establishing a market for the
sale of grain and other products. The Fish Market and the famous
Marché du Vendredi, or Friday Market, soon followed and Ghent had
begun the development that was destined to make it, for three
centuries, one of the greatest trading centres in the world.

The present buildings of the Abbey date from the eleventh and twelfth
centuries, the original structures having been destroyed during the
tenth century. It was during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries
that the Abbey attained the zenith of its power. Here, in 1369, was
solemnised the marriage of Philip the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, with
Margaret, the daughter of Louis of Maele, the last of the Counts of
Flanders to be known by that title only. This event virtually ended
the long line of Flemish Counts, for the title thereafter became one
of many similarly held by the powerful Dukes of Burgundy and their
successors and was only used on state occasions, or when it served
their purpose. The unfortunate Michelle, the first wife of Philip the
Good, was interred here. By a strange irony of fate it was Charles the
Fifth of all men, the valiant Protector of the Faith, head and front
of the monarchs who remained steadfastly loyal to the Catholic Church,
who began the work of destroying this splendid and ancient monastery.
To build the great fortress by which he held in awe the turbulent
citizens of Ghent he ordered the demolishment of a considerable part
of its buildings and the erection on its site of his citadel, the
_Château des Espagnols_. The Calvinists continued the work of
destruction in 1581, the French wrecking the buildings still further,
and the revolt of 1830 completing the ruin of what was in its day of
prosperity one of the finest monastic institutions in Europe.

Since 1834 the ruins have been carefully protected against further
injury; and, as they stand, give the observer a most imposing
realisation of their former grandeur. The Refectory, or dining-hall,
is still fairly intact, and is used as a museum of sculptures saved
from the wreck of the other buildings, and including some found in
other parts of the city. One of these is a tombstone thought to be
that of Hubert Van Eyck, while another is the _Homme du Beffroi_, one
of the four stone statues erected in 1338 on the corners of the
Belfry. A baptismal font found in the ruins of the Abbey contains a
curious bas-relief representing Adam and Eve being expelled from
Paradise. It is not, however, in these detached items that the visitor
will find the chief interest and inspiration of the ancient Abbey, but
in the general views that in every direction give a conception of the
former vast extent and richness of the buildings. In their present
condition the ruins form a series of pictures of wonderful beauty,
not only in the remains of their architectural and artistic splendour,
but because Nature, kinder than man, has covered the scars made by the
despoilers with her choicest tapestries of trailing vines and glowing
flowers and spread her softest carpets of verdure along the silent and
deserted cloisters.

[Illustration: RUINS OF THE ABBEY OF ST. BAVON, GHENT.]

Returning to the heart of the city, another memento of the earliest
period of the city's growth attracted our attention. This was the
Château of Girard le Diable (Girard the Devil) the first of the
"monuments" to be encountered if one arrives by the Southern railway
station. This edifice, now completely restored and used as the
depository of the provincial archives, dates from 1216. Apart from the
exterior, however, which reproduces the original appearance of the
castle, the only portion of interest to the visitor is the crypt which
is over one hundred feet long and nearly forty-five feet in width,
making it one of the largest in Flanders. The vaulted roof is
supported by massive round columns and forms a notable example of the
ogival style of architecture. We sought in vain to find what the noble
Sir Girard did or did not do to receive his satanic appellation. From
the records he appears to have been a tolerably worthy citizen,
holding, as did his father before him, the position of Châtelain of
Ghent. A fortunate marriage, apparently, gave him the means to erect
this exceptionally fine castle, which has--like many of the old
buildings in the city--had a most varied history. For two or three
centuries it remained the residence of the Châtelains of Ghent, then,
for a time, was used by the city as an arsenal, was occupied by the
Hiéronimites, and then became in succession a school, a mad-house, an
orphan asylum, a house of correction, and a fire house. Its spacious
halls now contain the precious charters of the Counts of Flanders and
innumerable historic documents of Ghent and the other cities of the
province.

The most ancient church in Ghent is that of St. Nicholas in the Marché
aux Grains. It was founded in 912, or slightly more than a thousand
years ago. The original edifice was burned in 1120, so that the
present structure dates from that century. A picturesque feature of
the exterior is the row of tiny one-story houses snuggling up against
the side of the great church on the rue Petite Turquis. The west
window is an extremely lofty lancet of great beauty. The doorway on
this side was for many years crowded between commonplace three-story
houses, the church builders of Flanders apparently caring very little
how the imposing majesty of their noble churches might be marred by
adjacent buildings, but these have now been removed and this front of
the structure cleared.

Among the treasures of this church are the relics of St. Anne, said to
have been brought from Jerusalem by Godfrey of Bouillon. In the
sacristy is some oil from the tomb of St. Nicholas of Myra and Bari,
after whom the church was named. This saint died in 342 and is the
subject of many picturesque mediæval legends. Even in infancy he is
alleged to have observed the fasts, refusing the breast of his nurse.
He used to look particularly after children, young women, sailors and
travellers. On one occasion he came to an inn where the wicked
inn-keeper fed his guests with the flesh of young children. St.
Nicholas immediately went to the tub where the bodies of the innocents
lay in brine and, reviving them, restored them all alive and whole
again to their parents. This incident is frequently depicted by
Flemish painters. After his death the bones of the Saint were buried
at Myra, but were stolen some centuries later--according to certain
monkish chronicles--and, after many adventures in which the spirit of
the deceased prelate participated, the oil which was found in his
sarcophagus was brought here. Jean Lyon, Dean of the guild of boatmen,
and one of the heroes of the White Hoods in their resistance to the
cruel Louis de Maele, was buried in this church.

One of the other churches of Ghent, the Cathedral of St. Bavon, dates
in part from the same early period as the other monuments described in
this chapter. Originally dedicated to St. John, the name was changed
to St. Bavon in 1540 and it became a cathedral nine years later. It is
not, however, the cathedral--of which the nave and transepts were not
completed until 1533 to 1559--but the earlier church of St. Jean that
figures in the history of Ghent under Counts of Flanders. Of this
church the crypt, which dates from the eleventh or twelfth century,
and the choir, dating from the thirteenth century, still remain. Our
exploration of the cold and gloomy crypt served to bring back the
earlier period of the history of Ghent in two ways--not only is its
present appearance undoubtedly much the same as it was eight or nine
centuries ago, when the city of the weavers was just beginning to
make its power and fame known in the land, but the historian sees here
the tombs of many of the great men of the city. For the most part
there were merchant princes, aristocrats, the leaders of the Liliaert
faction--those who sided with the King of France and took his lilies
as their emblem.

Under its early Flemish Counts, the history of Ghent was, on the
whole, one of rapid and almost uninterrupted expansion. The merchants
who flocked to the little town around the Abbeys of St. Peter and St.
Bavon were followed by similar throngs of artisans, and as the
commerce of the city grew apace so its industrial importance expanded.
On the death of Philip of Alsace, who had erected the Château on the
Place Ste. Pharaïlde to hold the city in check, its burghers wrested
from the feeble hands of his widow the famous _Keure_ of 1191, a sort
of local Magna Carta which confirmed all pre-existing privileges and
granted others. The same year the Treaty of Arras, by which Baldwin
VIII ceded Arras and the County of Artois to Philip Augustus, the wily
and land-grasping King of France, made Ghent virtually the capital of
Flanders--a position that had hitherto been occupied by Bruges. Like
its rival on the Roya, Ghent had become an important centre for the
woollen trade with England, and also for all the branches of woollen
manufacture, the "scarlets" of Ghent being renowned far and wide. The
thirteenth century--in consequence of the folly of Baldwin of
Constantinople who, as we have seen, went off on a fanatical
enterprise to the Far East, leaving the richest county in the world at
the mercy of his enemies--saw a steady decline in the power of the
Counts; and, while the Kings of France profited mightily by this
situation, the shrewd burghers of Ghent, Bruges, Ypres and the other
powerful Flemish communes were not backward in extending and securing
their own powers also. The result was that the successive Counts and
Countesses were forced to submit to repeated encroachments on their
authority. In 1228 Count Ferrand established a Council of thirty-nine
members which soon became a virtual oligarchy and the actual ruler of
the city. This body, while maintaining at first fairly friendly
relations with the Counts, soon began to treat with other nations and
the other cities in Flanders as if it was the actual sovereign. Then,
as the King of France, toward the close of the thirteenth century,
began to give evidence of an intention to seize the rich county of
Flanders for himself--thus despoiling both the Counts and the
burghers at the same time--Ghent joined heartily in the general
movement toward a national resistance. In 1297 the Count Guy granted
the city a new _Keure_, or charter, even more liberal than that of
1191, and formed an alliance with England against the common foe.
This, however, came to nothing, and all Flanders was over-run by the
victorious French troops. Ghent, after a brief resistance, yielded,
and the French King, making liberal concessions to win the support of
the most powerful of all the Flemish communes, the Liliaerts, or
supporters of the Lily of France, were temporarily holding the upper
hand when the astounding tidings came of the Battle of the Spurs.

CHAPTER X

THE AGE WHEN GHENT WAS GOVERNED BY ITS GUILDS

It was on the 12th of July, 1302, that the guildsmen of
Flanders--chiefly, as we have seen, those from the two cities of
Bruges and Ypres--humbled the chivalry of France and demonstrated the
fact that the guilds of the great Flemish communes were a power to be
reckoned with. Obviously, when the greatest monarch of the day had
been so decisively beaten there was no longer any question as to the
relative importance of the guilds and the local Counts of Flanders.
The latter, though still figuring prominently in the history of the
time, were unable to cope with the might of their united subjects, and
only by the help of their overlords of France, by bribery and even by
downright treachery, were they able to maintain themselves on their
tottering thrones at all. This period is the most interesting in the
long history of Flanders, for it was during the fourteenth century
that the land of the Flemings just missed becoming a nation, and,
possibly, a republic. That it failed was due to the fact that, while
there existed a splendid and indomitable spirit of freedom in every
true Flemish breast, the sense of loyalty was local instead of
national. To his guild and his commune the Fleming was intensely
loyal, but his patriotism--fine as it was--was too narrow. Each
commune acted solely for itself, uniting with the others in time of
great and impending peril, but often sending its armies to fight a
sister commune over some trifling dispute as soon as the common danger
was over. The princes were able, by cunningly taking advantage of this
defect in the Flemish character, to play one commune against another
and, by dividing the hosts of the guildsmen, to establish finally a
tyranny too powerful to be thrown off. For one hundred and fifty years
after the Battle of the Spurs, however, the guilds--although now and
then temporarily defeated--were, in the main, supreme throughout the
length and breadth of Flanders, and it was still another century
before the last spark of civic freedom at Ghent was finally
extinguished.

Two days after the great fight at Courtrai the victors, headed by the
redoubtable Peter de Coninck, William of Juliers and Guy of Namur,
entered the city of Ghent and "converted" the too lukewarm magistrates
to the popular side. The patrician Liliaerts were expelled from the
magistracy and many were killed or driven from the city. The Count
fought stubbornly on, nor did the war with France end immediately, but
in almost every instance the guildsmen were able to maintain the
results of their great victory and firmly establish the foundation of
their power. In the government of the commune of Ghent their voice was
a potent one. Naturally the wool-spinners and weavers were the
dominant organisations, while the _petits-métiers_, or minor
industries, were also represented.

The apprentice system was rigidly enforced among all the guilds, but
the policy of the organisations was liberal in this respect--for
example, an apprentice was often sent for a year's journey in other
cities or countries in order to obtain a wider knowledge of his craft.
The guildsmen had a hearty and honest pride in good and skilful
workmanship, and the officers of the guilds supervised the quality of
the goods turned out and imposed penalties for poor workmanship or the
use of inferior materials. Each guild had its own house or
meeting-place, and while the fine guild houses on the Marché aux
Grains date from a somewhat later period, they were no doubt preceded
by earlier structures. It was one of the dreams of the Professor to
rummage about in these ancient edifices, poring over the archives of
the guilds and inspecting the rooms and halls where their ofttimes
stormy meetings were held. In this he was destined to be disappointed,
for while the exteriors of several of these historic buildings have
been carefully restored, the interiors are now devoted to private uses
and contain little of interest to the visitor. The archives have been,
for the most part, preserved in the ancient castle of Girard the
Devil. Some of the old guild banners still exist, but the guild houses
themselves are only the empty shells of the powerful organisations
that once made them their homes.

[Illustration: Photograph by E. Sacré. POST OFFICE, CHURCH OF ST.
NICHOLAS, BELFRY AND CATHEDRAL, GHENT.]

The most famous structure in Flanders dates from this epoch in the
town's history. This is the Belfry that has looked down on the red
roofs of Ghent for nearly six hundred years. The first Belfry was
begun in 1183, but the present structure was built in 1313-1339, since
when it has been several times modified and "restored"--not always
successfully. The latest restoration was carried out by the municipal
authorities as a preparation for the International Exposition held at
Ghent in 1913 and was carefully and intelligently done. There are
three hundred and fifty-five steps in the staircase by which visitors
ascend the tower, and the climb is one that richly repays those who
make it. On a clear day one can see beyond Bruges to the northwest, as
far as Antwerp to the east and Audenaerde to the south. So densely
peopled is the Flemish plain that these great cities lie almost close
enough together to be within sound of great Roland.

This was the renowned bell which the burghers of Ghent had cast and
hung high on their Belfry as an emblem of the city's freedom from
tyranny and a tocsin to summon the sturdy guildsmen to its defence
when danger threatened. It bore the following inscription in Flemish:

Mynen naem is Roelant, als ick clippe dan ist brant
Als icke luyde, dan ist storm in Vlaenderlandt.

Freely translated, this is what the bell gave as its autobiography:

My name is Roland; when I speak softly there is fire at hand,
But when I roar loudly it means war in Flanderland.

The original Roland was cast in 1314, or twelve years after the Battle
of the Spurs. It weighed twelve thousand, five hundred pounds and was
the pride of the city, but was destroyed by order of Charles V when he
forced the burghers abjectly to submit to his despotism in 1540.

In the lower part of the tower is the "secret room" where from 1402
the burghers kept, behind triple doors as at Bruges, the charters and
privileges of the city. The famous dragon at the tip of the spire was
for centuries said to have been brought from the Orient at the time of
Baldwin of Constantinople, but recent researches in the archives of
the city have shown that it was made at Ghent in the year 1377-78.
Adjoining the Belfry is the Cloth Hall erected for the most important
of the city's four hundred guilds. The upper hall is now used as a
Bureau of Information for Tourists, while the lower one is a
Rathskeller. Here the columns and vaulted roof greatly resemble the
crypt of Girard the Devil's castle, save that the little tables and
excellent Munich and Pilsen to be had there make it decidedly more
cheerful. The edifice was begun in 1425 and finished, or, at least,
the work was stopped, in 1441. Behind the Cloth Hall, but nestling
close against it, is the quaint little entrance to the communal
prison, which was built in 1741 when the prisoners were confined on
the lower floor of the Cloth Hall. Over the door at the top of the
façade is the celebrated bas-relief representing the legend of the
Mammelokker. The carving really tells all there is to the story; which
is, in brief, that, on one occasion, when an old man was condemned to
die of starvation, his daughter--who just then had a baby whom she was
nursing--secretly gave the breast to her aged parent, thus saving his
life.

While the Belfry was being built by the burghers of Ghent, France and
England were drifting into the Hundred Years' War. The Count of
Flanders, Louis de Nevers, was ardently loyal to France and utterly
blind to the interests of the great woollen manufacturing communes
over which he ruled and to those of his own dynasty. In 1336, no doubt
at the instance of the King of France, he ordered all the English
merchants in Flanders to be arrested and their goods confiscated. The
King of England, Edward III, promptly retaliated by prohibiting the
exportation of wool from England to Flanders and the sale of Flemish
woollens in his Kingdom. In a few months the Flemish communes of
Ghent, Bruges and Ypres found themselves facing utter ruin as a result
of this economic conflict. The spinners and weavers were idle, the
markets deserted, actual starvation existed, and many of the guildsmen
were forced to wander off into the countryside to beg for food.

It was at this critical moment that the great figure of Jacques Van
Artevelde appears upon the stage of Flemish history. Son of a rich
wool and cloth merchant who had been long prominent among the
Clauwaerts, or foes of French domination, Jacques Van Artevelde was a
man of wealth and position who by ancestry and calling was inclined to
the popular rather than the aristocratic side. On December 28, 1337,
he harangued the men of Bruges in behalf of peace with England, in
spite of the obstinate and fatuous policy of the Count. As a result of
his eloquence, abundantly enforced by the ruin and misery then
prevailing on every side, the people decided unanimously to establish
a revolutionary government, which was accomplished peacefully on the
third of the following month. Van Artevelde was recognised as the
foremost of the five captains then chosen to administer the government
of the city, and was given a larger guard than his colleagues. The
helpless Count of Flanders, unable to resist, was obliged to ratify
the new policy of the burghers, and by the middle of the year 1338
the embargo was formally raised on both sides, the woollen industry
started up once more, and Flanders was declared to be neutral as
regarded the contest between its two powerful neighbours. In short,
the wise policy of Van Artevelde was completely triumphant and the
country again placed on the road to renewed prosperity.

Under the direction of the great tribune the weavers were now the
dominant factor in the government of Ghent, and soon the influence of
Van Artevelde made itself felt in Bruges, Ypres and all the other
Flemish communes, where the guild leaders became likewise the heads of
the magistracy. The Count strove to reassert his power, but Van
Artevelde stormed the Castle and the prince was forced to accompany
the men of Ghent to the annual procession at Tournai wearing their
colours. The "White Hoods," as the warriors of the popular party were
called, destroyed the castles of several of the lesser nobility who
dared to resist their authority and throughout all the land Van
Artevelde reigned supreme. Edward III, after vainly endeavouring to
win the Count of Flanders to his side by flattering matrimonial
offers, ended by treating directly with Van Artevelde as if with a
sovereign prince.

It was the genius of the great Ghent captain that conceived the
brilliant idea of overcoming the reluctance of the Flemish communes to
take sides with England against their feudal suzerain, the King of
France, by having Edward claim the crown of France, and it was in
consequence of his arguments that the English monarch finally took
this bold but adroit step. On the 26th of January, 1340, the communes
formally recognised Edward as their suzerain on the Marché du Vendredi
at Ghent--one of the many great events that have taken place on that
historic spot. The King made Ghent his headquarters, and it was in the
old Castle of the Counts that his third son, known in English history
as John of Gaunt (Ghent), was born. In the same year occurred the
great Battle of Sluys, in which Edward III led the English ships of
war into the harbour of that town where the French King Philip had
assembled a vast fleet. The defeated Frenchmen leaped overboard in
hundreds only to be slain by the Flemings as they swam ashore. No man
dared tell the King of France of this great disaster until the royal
jester broke the news by exclaiming, "The English cowards! Oh, the
English cowards!" On the King's inquiring what he meant by this, the
jester replied, "They were afraid to jump into the sea as our brave
Frenchmen did at Sluys!"

This brilliant year, however, saw the climax of the power of Van
Artevelde. Already the other Flemish communes were beginning to
grumble at his rule, outbreaks occurring at Audenaerde, Dendermonde
and Ypres. King Edward began to besiege Tournai with the aid of Van
Artevelde, but on the French King agreeing to a truce he returned to
England, leaving his faithful ally to take care of himself as best he
could. To make matters more difficult, he failed to pay the subsidies
he had promised, and the tribune was violently accused of having
played the people false. Meanwhile the guildsmen began to dispute
between themselves, and on Monday, May 2, 1345, in spite of the
entreaties of Van Artevelde, the fullers and weavers engaged in a
bloody battle on the Marché du Vendredi in which the former with their
_Doyen_, or leader, were massacred. This sad day was called the _Kwade
Maendag_, or Bad Monday.

Early in July Van Artevelde had a last interview with Edward at Sluys.
On his return to Ghent a mob of malcontents, led by men in the pay of
Count Louis of Nevers, besieged the great tribune in his house, crying
that he had betrayed the country. After vainly trying to argue with
them, he reluctantly permitted himself to be drawn away from the
window by his followers, who sought to persuade him to seek safety in
flight. It was too late, however, as the mob had already burst into
the house and one of them struck Van Artevelde dead on his own
threshold. For nearly nine years he had been virtually a king in
Flanders, his policy bringing unexampled prosperity to the country and
to his native city.

Although often called a demagogue and a tyrant, Jacques Van Artevelde
ranks as one of the foremost statesmen of his time. He died the
"victim of a faction" and of treachery rather than a popular revolt
against his policies, for the English alliance was steadfastly
continued after his death. To-day his statue stands on the Marché du
Vendredi, where, in 1340, he burned the papal interdict against
Flanders. It represents him in the act of delivering the famous speech
by which he won the allegiance of his fellow citizens to the English
alliance. Count Louis profited little by his treachery, for a little
over a year later, August 26, 1346, he fell in the great battle of
Crécy where the English archers, fighting by the side of many Flemish
guildsmen, gave the death blow to mediæval chivalry and utterly
crushed the power of France.

The weavers, who under Van Artevelde had become the dominant power in
all of the Flemish communes, soon had good reason to regret his fall,
for the new Count, Louis of Maele--named like most of the Counts of
Flanders from the place where he was born, the great castle of
Maele--was able by liberal promises and the restoration of ancient
charters and privileges to win the support of most of the cities. At
Ghent the butchers, fish merchants, and boatmen's guilds submitted,
followed by the fullers and minor industries. The weavers, although
their numbers had been greatly reduced by the plague, held out
stubbornly, but were massacred on the Marché du Vendredi, Tuesday,
January 13, 1349, their captain and their _Doyen_, Gérard Denys--the
man who had slain Van Artevelde--being flung into the Lys. The victors
called this bloody day _De Goede Disendach_, or Good Tuesday, and it
certainly amply revenged the Bad Monday four years before when the
weavers were the aggressors. The members of the unfortunate guild were
now hunted down like dogs throughout all Flanders, great numbers
fleeing to England where they established the weaving industry--King
Edward wisely welcoming the exiles and giving them every aid in his
power to settle in his Kingdom. Later the competition of these
fugitives and their descendants gave Flanders good cause to rue the
folly of the internal strife that thus drove away some of the best
workmen in the country.

The numerical superiority of this guild, however, and the fact that
its members were necessarily more skilled than the fullers, led to its
gradual recovery, and by 1359 the weavers were again admitted to a
share in the government of the communes and the fullers were relegated
to the inferior position to which their smaller numbers and less
skilled work entitled them. Louis of Maele made Bruges virtually his
capital, but during the greater part of his reign of forty years was
able to continue on fairly peaceful terms with the turbulent city of
Ghent by means of a careful and detailed adjustment of the order of
precedence between the various guilds which was devised about the year
1352 and continued in effect for nearly two centuries. In 1369 the
daughter of the Count married Philip the Bold, Duke of Burgundy and
brother of the King of France--an event full of dire significance for
the guildsmen as it led to their having, in after years, the powerful
Dukes of Burgundy as their over-lords instead of the comparatively
feeble Counts of Flanders. In 1377 Count Louis held a great tournament
in the Marché du Vendredi. Despite the long conflict between the
guilds the city was at this period very prosperous.

The Count, however, who was always short of money, sold to the
citizens of Bruges the right to construct a canal from their port to
the River Lys. At this Ghent, headed by the Boatmen's Guild, flew to
arms and a civil war broke out in 1379, the men of Ghent fearing that
they might lose their monopoly of the grain traffic. After various
successes and reverses the Count besieged the city and had very nearly
reduced it by starvation when Philip Van Artevelde, son of the famous
tribune, came forward and was made Captain-General of the city, in
1382. The new leader, and a motley crowd of five thousand half-starved
followers, marched on Bruges, where the Count, at the head of a host
of over forty thousand, attacked them under the walls of the city. The
larger army, however, was a mere rabble--over-confident and half
intoxicated--and Van Artevelde won a complete victory. The Count of
Flanders was compelled to hide for the night under a heap of straw in
a poor woman's hovel, and later escaped to Lille and so to France.
Van Artevelde treated the captured city with generosity and was soon
captain of all Flanders. His next battle was with the King of France,
but this time he was less fortunate, and at Rosbecque, November 27,
1382, the Flemish host was cut to pieces and its leader slain. Louis
of Maele himself died two years later, leaving the reputation of being
the worst and weakest of the line of Flemish Counts, as well as the
last. It was at his request that the French had invaded the country,
which they swept with fire and sword after the defeat of the Flemish
guildsmen, but the victory was of no benefit to the broken-down old
man who no longer dared to show himself in Flanders and died at Paris
in poverty and neglect.

As an offset to these remarks regarding the weakness of Louis of Maele
it is only fair to that worthy to relate a little legend generally
attributed to his reign. It is said that on a certain occasion the
magistrates of Ghent--which was at the time renowned as the most
opulent city in Europe--were invited to a great feast given in honour
of some foreign king. Those in charge of the arrangements forgot,
however, to put cushions on the chairs and the men of Ghent
accordingly threw their richly embroidered cloaks upon them, and
retired when the feast was over without putting them on again. When
reminded of this the Chief Magistrate replied, "The Flemings are not
accustomed to carry their cushions with them." Not only the grandees
but the bourgeois citizens at this period were said to wear purple and
fine linen. The baths, "stooven," frequented by both sexes, became the
scenes of great vice and disorder and one ancient chronicler reports
an incredible number of murders as occurring during a single year at
gaming tables and drinking places. All this would seem to show that
Louis of Maele was not so bad a sovereign--for at least the country
prospered under his rule--but in reality he had, as we have seen, very
little to do either with the actual government or public policy during
his long reign.

No visitor to Ghent fails to take a look at De Dulle Griete, or "Mad
Margery," Philip Van Artevelde's big cannon that stands in the
Mannekens Aert. According to Froissart, Van Artevelde took with him to
the siege of Audenaerde "a bombard which was fifty feet in length, and
shot stones of immense weight. When they fired off this bombard it
might be heard five leagues off in the daytime, and ten at night.
The report of it was so loud, that it seemed as if all the devils in
hell had broken loose." Mad Margery seems to have shrunk considerably
since Froissart's time, for she is now nineteen feet long and three
feet in diameter at the mouth. The gun was made of wrought iron and
weighs thirty-four thousand, one hundred and sixty-six pounds, and was
capable of throwing a stone weighing seven hundred and eight pounds.

[Illustration: DE DULLE GRIETE, GHENT.]

Another interesting monument dating from the same period in the city's
history as the Belfry is the Hospital of the Biloque or Biloke. Some
of the buildings are of much more recent construction, but the Gothic
chapel was built early in the thirteenth century, apparently about
1228, with a double gable and immense timber roof. The former
Refectory offers an example of early brick work at one of its ends,
_le beau pignon_, that is a joy to architects, and has often been
described and illustrated in the technical books. The timber roof of
this structure is also noteworthy. It is now used as a hospital for
old men. This edifice is a century later than the chapel, while some
of the other buildings date from the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries.

Ghent contains two Béguinages, a circumstance that gives not a little
trouble to visitors who in trying to visit one are about always--at
least that was our experience on two occasions--directed to the other.
Both are large, but one is more notable for its antiquity and the
other for its size and the perfection of its appointments. The first
Béguinage in Ghent was founded by Jeanne of Constantinople in 1233 as
a place of refuge for women disciples of the church who in those evil
days felt the need of protection, but did not desire to enter the
conventual life. Little houses sprang up and the institution proved so
popular that a second Béguinage was soon established which came to be
called the Petit Béguinage. Protected by the successive Counts, and
particularly by the patronage of the Countesses of Flanders, both
institutions flourished and expanded steadily. The present Petit
Béguinage de Notre Dame dates largely from the seventeenth century,
and the Chapel and streets of tiny houses inhabited by the Béguines
are most picturesque. It has accommodations for three hundred sisters.
The Grand Béguinage de Ste. Elisabeth was confiscated during the
French Revolution and the property presented to the almshouses of the
city of Ghent. The Committee in charge of the almshouses suffered
the Béguines to remain undisturbed, however, until 1872 when
strained relations resulting from this arrangement led to the Béguines
giving up their establishment, which was modernized by the authorities
and many of its interesting features destroyed. The church remains,
having become a parish church, and the rue des Prébendières retains
its original appearance. Meanwhile, the Duke of Arenberg purchased
ground for a new Grande Béguinage at Mont St. Amand, and here a little
city of small houses, designed in fifteenth-century Flemish style, and
a new chapel were erected, the work being completed in 1874.

[Illustration: WORKROOM, PETIT BÉGUINAGE DE NOTRE DAME, GHENT.]

We spent a very charming afternoon visiting the Grande Béguinage.
Passing through the lofty gateway we were greeted by the
pleasant-faced Béguine who receives all visitors and who directed us
how to reach the buildings we were permitted to see. As at Bruges, the
cells were not shown to visitors. Altogether at St. Amand there are
fourteen "convents" and eighty houses, the former accommodating twenty
or thirty inmates and the latter two or three, with occasionally some
lady from the outer world who is taken as a lodger. Each little house
is numbered and also has a name, usually that of some saint. Arriving
at the convent we had been permitted to visit we were first conducted
down a long, clean corridor, painted a glaring white, to a parlour or
reception room, of which there appear to be several. Then, after the
Lady Superior had been notified of our presence and had come to
welcome us, we were taken to the _refter_, or dining-room. The
inventor of the kitchen cabinet could have taken points from this
curious apartment. Along the walls and between the windows are a dozen
or more cupboards, of which one belongs to each Béguine. Here she
keeps her napkins, dishes and cooking utensils, and even her bread and
provisions. A board can be pulled out near the middle, which serves as
a table. These cupboards are so constructed that no Béguine can see
into that of her neighbour, and apparently they take their meals one
at a time, as one was eating her frugal repast when we entered, and
when we passed through the room again a little later her little
private refectory was closed and another one was seated at her little
shelf or table. Adjoining this queer dining-room was a large kitchen,
with an extremely big cook stove, on which a half-dozen little pots
were simmering gently. One Béguine, we were told, has the duty of
attending to the kitchen for three weeks, then another, each taking
turns. The Béguines prepare their own meals to suit themselves, the
one in charge of the kitchen merely looking after the actual process
of cooking.

We next visited the workroom, where a group of Béguines were busily
engaged in making lace. The bright sunshine streaming through the
large windows on the silent group of workers, each clad in her sombre
garb of black and white, made a pretty picture. All seemed to be
care-free and contented, though the expression on their faces could
hardly be described as one of happiness. As in all conventual
institutions, the inmates are required to go through quite a series of
devotional exercises from morning mass to the Benediction Night
Prayers. The scene in the little chapel attached to each convent, or
in the large chapel of the entire Béguinage, when the sisters are
assembled for service is a very picturesque one and gives the visitor
an impression likely long to be remembered.

Speaking of the peculiar dining customs of the Béguines reminds me
that in Flanders the judicious should not overlook the importance of
doing justice to the culinary treats that are provided by even the
little hotels. For those travellers who look upon eating as one of the
disagreeable necessities of existence, to be shirked or evaded as far
as possible, and, in any event, to be hurried through with quickly
lest something be overlooked that the immortal Mr. Baedeker said must
be seen, this is one feature of Flemish life that will make no appeal.
On the other hand, for those who are neither mentally nor bodily
dyspeptic; who agree with the French aphorism that "the animals feed,
while man eats"; and who are still able to enjoy a good meal well
planned, well cooked, and well served, a trip through Flanders will
bring a new pleasure every day. A peep into any Flemish kitchen will
convince the most sceptical that here, at all events, one's stomach is
not likely to be forgotten. Pots and kettles, casseroles and pans,
pitchers and jugs, large and small, hang around the walls or rest upon
long shelves--all of brightly polished copper and ready for instant
service.

The great meal of the day in all parts of Flanders is the dinner, and
it cuts the day in two--coming between noon and two o'clock and
usually lasting an hour or more. The evening meal, or supper, is much
less important, save in a few hotels catering largely to tourists. To
get up a real Flemish dinner, cooked and served in the best style of
which the Flemish cooks are capable, the housewife first ascertains
when the local butcher has fresh-killed meat and plans accordingly.
Vegetables in Flanders are always good, in their respective seasons,
but to get the finest quality of meats one must buy just after the
butcher has made a killing. To Americans, who have been accustomed all
their lives to eat meat that has been kept on ice, it almost seems as
though one has never tasted a roast of beef or a shoulder of mutton
before--so deliciously sweet, tender and juicy are they when cooked
and eaten before the ice has robbed them of their richness and
flavour.

It was while we were browsing around Ghent that the ladies discovered
a bit of handicraft that seems worth mentioning. We subsequently saw
the same thing at Brussels and Antwerp, so that it appears to be
distinctly a Belgian industry. In a large window they noticed two
women engaged in what from over the way might have been taken for
lace-making. Mrs. Professor hurried across at once to investigate and
she and the Madame spent half an hour watching the operation. Each of
the two women was engaged in repairing, the one a pair of trousers and
the other an overcoat. In each case the repair consisted of literally
weaving a new segment of cloth in place of the damaged portion. First
cutting out all of the latter they frayed out an edge of the goods at
some point where there was sufficient material turned under for their
purpose. This done they took short strands of each of the various
coloured yarns and, with infinite patience and skill, wove them
together in an exact reproduction of the design of the original
textile. So cleverly was the work done that when completed the
reparation could not be detected. It is possible that repairing of
this kind is done in America but none of us had ever seen or heard of
it. In Belgium it seemed to be fairly common, being styled _Reparation
invisible_, and the price varying from one to three or four francs for
each hole repaired, according to the nature of the goods and the
design. We also saw rugs being repaired in the same manner, as well as
ladies' dress goods of every description.

It is one of the most deplorable features of the war that its most
fearful destructiveness should have been wreaked upon a little country
where every small economy and patient utilisation of trifles had been
practised for centuries. All Belgium is pre-eminently a land of
thrift, of painstaking husbanding of small resources, and to beggar
half the population of such a country means a calamity to each family
group and individual far more poignant than would be the case where
frugality was less deeply ingrained as a national characteristic.

CHAPTER XI

PHILIP THE GOOD AND THE VAN EYCKS

As the sunset is often the most beautiful hour of the day, so the
splendour of the old Flemish communes reached its zenith at the moment
when many of them were about to sink into their long sleep. This was
the period of Burgundian rule. Upon the death of Louis of Maele the
County of Flanders ceased to be a separate sovereignty, as it had been
since Baldwin of the Iron Arm, for the husband of Margaret, the old
Count's daughter, was Duke of Burgundy and brother of the King of
France--a foreign prince whose interests in France far out-weighed in
his mind his interests in Flanders. The new ruler, Philip the Bold,
was acknowledged as Count of Flanders in 1384, but was only able to
enter Audenaerde by stratagem after a siege, and was defied openly by
the sturdy burghers of Ghent. The following year, however, Philip
effected a family union by which he virtually controlled the two
important States of Brabant and Hainaut. His eldest son was married
to Margaret, daughter of the Regent of Hainaut, while the latter's son
married Philip's daughter. These marriages were celebrated at Cambrai,
in April, 1385, and at the same time the Duchess of Brabant recognised
Philip's second son as heir to the Duchy. Brabant at that time was
less rich and powerful than Flanders, but its chief cities, Brussels
and Louvain, were growing rapidly. Hainaut, on the other hand, had
been termed by one of its leaders "a poor country of proud men"--its
chief cities, Mons and Valenciennes, being places of third-rate
importance, and its present vast mineral wealth then undreamed of. The
marriages of Cambrai are worth remembering, however, as explaining the
rapidity with which the House of Burgundy extended its sway over
nearly all of what is now Belgium.

Ghent still resisted its new Count, but an army of one hundred
thousand French and Burgundians--gathered primarily to invade
England--destroyed the seaport of Damme, which had been rebuilt since
its previous destruction by the French, and plundered "the Four
Trades," as the fertile region thereabout was called. Ghent, however,
had suffered enough to make it sue for peace and acknowledge Philip's
sovereignty. The invasion of England project came to nothing--as have
so many others before and since--but it had at least enabled Philip to
establish his power in Flanders.

On Philip's death in 1404, he was succeeded by his son, John the
Fearless (as the old chroniclers call him). The life of this prince
belongs to the history of France rather than Flanders, as he had
little use for his Flemish towns except to extort money from their
burghers--who granted him such sums as he required on his renewing
acknowledgment of their liberties and privileges. In 1407 John caused
the murder of his great rival in the government of France, the Duke of
Orleans. Then came the battle of Agincourt, where the power of France
was ruined by Henry the Fifth, and in 1419 the son of the Duke of
Orleans avenged the murder of his father twelve years previously by
murdering John the Fearless at Montereau.

The son of John the Fearless was Philip, called by the chroniclers
"the Good." A better term would have been "the Magnificent," for
goodness was hardly his chief characteristic. The murder of his father
caused Philip to take the side of England in the long conflict between
that country and France that was still raging--a policy that pleased
his Flemish communes, which depended for their prosperity on the wool
trade. Meanwhile Philip took advantage of the matrimonial difficulties
of Jacqueline of Bavaria, Countess of Hainaut and Holland, to compel
that beautiful but unfortunate princess to abdicate in his favour. The
dungeon in the Castle of the Counts at Ghent, where the fair
Jacqueline was for a time confined, has already been mentioned. He
also succeeded in making himself Duke of Brabant, thus uniting in his
own person the government of these rich provinces with that of
Flanders and Burgundy and his other possessions in France.

In 1430 Philip married the Princess Isabel of Portugal, a
great-granddaughter of John, Duke of Lancaster. This marriage cemented
the English alliance, and the English made Philip Regent of France,
over which they still claimed sovereignty. It was Philip who captured
and indirectly caused the execution of Jeanne d'Arc at the darkest
period of French history.

The now all-powerful Duke of Burgundy signalized his marriage by
establishing at Bruges the famous Order of the Golden Fleece. This
consisted of himself, as founder and sovereign prince, and twenty-four
knights--naturally the highest in the land--and in renown and lustre
the new order quickly took rank as the very pinnacle of mediæval
chivalry. Membership was an honour than which there was none higher,
while members also enjoyed a personal security against the tyranny of
princes in being amenable only to their comrades of the order. The
head of such an institution naturally exerted powers equal, and, in
some respects, superior, to those of any crowned monarch. The fêtes
with which Philip celebrated the establishment of the order were
without precedent in the history of Europe for magnificence, and the
old city of Bruges was for days thronged with the bravest knights and
the fairest ladies to be found in the Duke's widespread dominions.

Up to this date the policy of Philip had coincided with the interests
of his great communes in Flanders and his popularity throughout the
county was unbounded. Not only did friendship with England protect and
stimulate trade between the two countries, but the misery and ruin of
France also contributed to extend the commerce of the great towns just
over the frontier whose trade and industries were unmolested. In 1435
Philip concluded the treaty of Arras with Charles VII, King of France,
by which, for the sake of peace, the French King ceded to him a
number of counties in France and made him, during his lifetime at
least, an independent prince owing no homage to the French Crown. This
treaty naturally enraged the English, who at once declared war on
Burgundy, destroying many Burgundian vessels and raiding its coast
towns. In revenge Duke Philip marched on Calais with an army of thirty
thousand Flemings whom he induced to join in the war against their
ancient ally chiefly through their confidence in his good intentions
and against their own better judgment. The siege proved to be a long
one, and the Flemings becoming discontented finally set fire to their
camp and crying, "_Go, go, wy zyn all vermanden!_" ("Go, go, we are
all betrayed!") marched back to Flanders, leaving their Duke raging at
his discomfiture.

This fiasco determined Philip to adopt a new policy toward the
communes and compel them to obey his orders. On May 22, 1437, he
camped outside of the city of Bruges with a considerable force of
knights and Picard footmen, informing the burghers that he was on his
way to Holland. The next day, telling his men "That is the Holland we
have come to conquer!" as he pointed to the city, Philip led his
forces to the market-place. The tocsin in the old belfry instantly
sounded the alarm, and angry guildsmen and burghers came pouring down
the narrow streets in thousands. Philip's small force, taken at a
disadvantage, was forced to retreat to one of the gates. It was shut,
its heavy bolts securely drawn. Already some of the French force had
been killed, and in a few moments the Duke himself would have perished
but for Burgomaster Van de Walle, who brought a smith and broke the
lock. The Duke escaped with most of his followers, but many who were
caught in the rear lost their lives. This was the Bruges Vespers--to
distinguish it from Bruges Matin, the year of the Battle of the Spurs.

Philip now set about humbling the proud city in grim earnest, cutting
off the commerce upon which its prosperity depended, and even its food
supplies. To add to the horrors of the siege the plague broke out
within the city, while leprosy was also prevalent. No less than
twenty-four thousand died of pestilence and famine before the brave
burghers at last gave in. Philip's terms were hard. The city officials
were required to meet him bareheaded and barefooted the next time he
deigned to visit the defeated commune, and on their knees give him the
keys of the city. A heavy fine was imposed and forty-two leading
burghers were excluded from amnesty and beheaded--including Van de
Walle, who had saved his life at the Bouverie gate. This was the
"Great Humiliation," as it is sometimes called, but--finding that
continued hostility to the chief trading centre in his dominions was
driving foreign traders away--the Duke now took Bruges again into his
favour and never again molested it during his long reign.

The proud city of Ghent was the next to feel the weight of the
powerful Duke's displeasure. Rebelling in 1448 against the imposition
of a tax on salt, called the gabelle, the city defied the Duke's
authority for five years. Meanwhile Philip gradually cut off its
supplies, as he had done with Bruges. Ghent was more populous,
however, and its burgher armies took the field and carried open war as
far as Audenaerde, which they besieged. Several small battles were
fought, the advantage resting mainly with the Duke, until on July 23,
1453, the decisive conflict took place. The Duke's forces were
encamped at Gavre, a few miles from the city. Spies within the gates
told the burghers that it would be easy to surprise the camp and
destroy Philip's army. The tocsin therefore was sounded and the hosts
of guildsmen and burghers marched out to attack the enemy. The Duke's
forces, aware of the manner in which the Flemings were to be betrayed,
were placed where the open ground favoured the Burgundian horsemen. In
spite of this advantage, the contest was a stubborn one, both the Duke
and his son Charles narrowly escaping death on one occasion. At last
the Flemings began to give way, and the battle became a slaughter,
more than twenty thousand of the guildsmen being slain on the field,
while all prisoners were hanged. This struggle was called "the red sea
of Gavre." As the men of Ghent were fleeing toward their city Philip
sought to pursue them by the shortest way and intercept their flight.
He accordingly called for a guide. A peasant of the neighbourhood
volunteered, and, after leading the Burgundian army across fields and
by-paths for several hours, conducted the victors--not to the gates of
Ghent, but back to their own camp again! This nameless hero was
incontinently hanged to the nearest tree, but he no doubt saved the
city from pillage and rapine that night.

Philip by this victory completely crushed the spirit of the communes,
for none dared resist when Ghent the all-powerful had failed. He seems
to have had at least a fleeting realisation, however, that victories
of this sort were not matters for unmitigated satisfaction. The day
after the battle the women of Ghent were searching the ghastly heaps
of dead for the bodies of their husbands, their brothers and their
lovers when Philip exclaimed--possibly touched by the sad sight--"I do
not know who is the gainer by this victory. As for me, see what I have
lost--for these were my subjects!"

The privileges of Ghent were somewhat curtailed, and the dearly loved
guild banners carried away by the conqueror, but Philip, on the whole,
was very moderate. The obnoxious gabelle, the cause of the war, was
removed, and all citizens guaranteed their individual liberties. The
following year, Philip, possibly to celebrate his now undisputed
supremacy, gave a series of fêtes at Lille that surpassed even those
held on the occasion of his marriage at the foundation of the Order of
the Golden Fleece. Upon one dining table stood a cathedral, with a
choir singing within; another held a huge pie, inside of which an
orchestra of twenty-eight musicians played; a third contained a
pantomime representing Jason in search of the golden fleece. These
fêtes and tournaments lasted for days, and were the wonder of Europe.

During the remainder of his reign of fifty years Philip never again
had occasion to make war on his Flemish subjects, and while he
seriously curtailed the power and importance of the communes, his rule
was, on the whole, a period of great prosperity for Flanders. Both
merchants and artisans were waxing rich, while the chief cities were
being beautified on every hand. It was under Philip the Good that the
cathedral at Antwerp was begun, and the town halls of Mons, Louvain
and Brussels erected. It was also during his reign that William Caxton
learned the art of printing at the house of Colard Manson at Bruges,
but the prejudice of the burghers led to his banishment as a
foreigner--thus depriving Bruges of the lustre of his achievements.
The greatest event of Philip's reign, however, was one of which the
glory is shared by both Bruges and Ghent--the establishment in
Flanders of the school of painters in oils whose masterpieces loom so
large in the history of art.

Like most men whose commanding personality dominates the age in which
they live, Philip the Good was many sided. The Professor admires him
because he was, in his judgment, one of the greatest constructive
statesmen of the Middle Ages--aiming steadily throughout his long
reign to weld together, by fair means or foul, a compact Burgundian
nation. On the other hand, I look upon him as a foe rather than a
friend of true progress, because he crushed the self-governing
communes and guilds, the bulwarks of personal liberty in feudal
Europe. Mrs. Professor cares nothing for either of these aspects of
his career, but looks upon him as great for all time because he was an
ardent friend and patron of the fine arts.

In this she is undoubtedly right, for no greater glory belongs to any
of the long line of princes who ruled over Flanders than that which is
associated with his reign--the birth at Bruges of the art of painting
with oils and of the wonderful school of painting represented by the
early Flemish masters. In his _History of Flemish Painting_ Prof. A.
J. Wauters recounts the names and some faint traces of the work of a
few Flemish painters who lived prior to the period of Philip the Good.
At Ghent there are two interesting frescoes dating from about the end
of the thirteenth century. At that city in 1337 the first guild of
sculptors was organised, under the patronage of St. Luke, and similar
corporations were instituted at Tournai in 1341, in Bruges in 1351,
at Louvain by 1360 and Antwerp by 1382. To this guild from the very
earliest period the painters belonged, sometimes the goldsmiths and
goldbeaters being also associated with them. In the same way the
illuminators of Bruges and Ghent, and the tapestry workers of Arras,
Tournai, Valenciennes and Brussels were organised into guilds, and
these associations of men whose work was in a high degree artistic
soon resulted in the transformation of the artisan into the artist.

Philip the Good was not the first of his line to give encouragement to
art and artists. One Jehan de Hasselt was court painter to Count Louis
of Maele, while at the same period the better known Jehan de Bruges
was _peintre et varlet de chambre_ for the King of France. By the end
of the fourteenth century not only the great Dukes of Burgundy and the
Kings of France but many minor princes had their chosen painters,
imagers, illuminators and tapestry workers. Philip the Bold, the first
of the Dukes of Burgundy to rule over Flanders, retained his
father-in-law's painter, Jehan de Hasselt, on his pay-roll for some
time, and later employed a resident of Ypres, Melchior Broederlam,
whose masterpiece was an altar-piece for the Carthusian monastery at
Dijon founded by his patron. Part of this has been preserved and is
now in the museum of Dijon. It is of interest as the first great
painting of the early Flemish school and represents the Annunciation
and Visitation, the Presentation in the Temple, and the Flight into
Egypt. John the Fearless, the next Duke of Burgundy, likewise had his
official painter, but it was not until the reign of Philip the Good
that any of these Ducal artists, with the exception of Broederlam,
achieved more than mediocre results.

The reason for this may have been the medium with which all painters
in those days were accustomed to work. This was called tempera, the
colours being mixed with water, the white of an egg or some other
glutinous substance, then dried in the sun and varnished over. The
colours, however, soon became dull and pale--often fading away
altogether, especially in course of restoration--and the process of
drying was slow and unsatisfactory. To Flanders belongs the honour of
the great discovery of the art of painting with oils that
revolutionised this branch of the fine arts and made the master-works
of the artists of the brush imperishable for all time.

This epoch-making discovery, which is justly looked upon as the birth
of modern painting, was made by the two brothers Van Eyck about the
year 1410. The early accounts attribute the invention wholly to Jean,
the younger of the two brothers, relating that on a certain occasion
he had placed a painting on wood, which had cost him much time and
labour, in the sun to dry when the heat of the sun caused it to crack.
Seeing his work thus ruined at a blow Jean sought to find some
substance that would obviate the necessity of drying his paintings in
the sun and, after many experiments, discovered that linseed oil and
nut oil were by far the most rapid in drying. He further found that
the colours mixed better in oil than with the white of an egg or glue.
They also had more body, a far richer lustre, were impermeable to
water and--what was best of all--dried just as well in the shade as in
the sun. Later scholarship is not inclined to give the entire credit
for this discovery to Jean alone, however, and his elder brother
Hubert is looked upon by some as the one to whom the glory is due.
Probably it was the joint result of innumerable experiments made by
both, each profiting by the mistakes and successes of the other--just
as was the case with the Wright brothers in perfecting the greatest
invention of our own times. There were, of course, other pioneers who
contributed to the great discovery.

The brothers were born at Maeseyck (Eyck-sur-Meuse) near Maestricht,
and took the name of the village as their own in a way that was then
very common. Literally they called themselves Hubert and Jean of Eyck.
They first obtained service under the prince-bishop of Liége, and were
illuminators of manuscripts and statues as well as painters. The
increasing wealth and luxury of Flanders under the Dukes of Burgundy
drew the two brothers to that country and they appear to have been in
the employ of the Count of Charolais, afterwards the Duke Philip the
Good, at about the date assigned by the early historians as that when
the art of painting with oils was discovered. The Count was residing
at that time in the Château des Comtes at Ghent with his young wife
Michelle, sister of the Duke of Orleans. In 1419, when the news of the
murder of John the Fearless, Duke of Burgundy, by the Duke of Orleans
on the bridge of Montereau arrived at Ghent, Philip rushed into his
wife's room crying, "Michelle, Michelle! Your brother has killed my
father!" The shock of this terrible intelligence, and the subsequent
suspicion of her husband that she knew of the plot, caused the poor
little French princess to pine away and die two years later. As a
tribute to her memory the guild of St. Luke was asked by the Duke to
grant the freedom of the guild to her favourite painters, the two Van
Eycks, which was done.

Jean, however, did not remain at Ghent, but took service for a time
under John of Bavaria, whose capital was at The Hague. In 1425 he
became painter and varlet de chambre of Philip the Good, a position he
retained until his death. For a time he seems to have travelled about
with his ducal master, but he eventually settled at Bruges, where most
of his best work was done. Hubert, meanwhile, remained at Ghent,
painting for the rich burghers of that prosperous city. Here he
presently received an order from Jodocus Vydts for an altar-piece for
a chapel he had founded in the Cathedral of St. Bavon in his native
city of Ghent. Hubert began work immediately, planned the great work
and lived to partially complete it when overtaken by death in 1426.
Hubert was recognised as a great painter in his day, the magistrates
of Ghent on one occasion going in state to his studio to inspect a
picture he was painting--which was no doubt the altar-piece for St.
Bavon. He was, however, wholly forgotten by early historians of art
in Flanders, and it is only recently that he has been given his proper
place as one of the first of the great masters of the Flemish school.

The subject chosen by Hubert for the proposed altar-piece was the
Adoration of the Lamb, and the artist, while true to the conventions
of the age in which he lived, achieved a work that is still full of
interest and charm. Like Shakespeare's plays this, the first great
masterpiece of the Flemish school, belongs not to an age but to all
time. In its entirety the work consists of twenty panels and comprises
more than three hundred separate figures. How far it had been
completed at Hubert's death there is no way to tell, although it is
customary to attribute to him the architectural frame, the central
panel showing the lamb, and the large upper panels. Other critics
believe that Jean practically painted the whole picture when he was
commissioned by the donor to complete it. The books on Flemish art
devote many pages to an analytical description of this picture,[1]
which was finally completed by Jean in 1432. The Duke Philip, his
patron, and the magistrates of Bruges visited his studio in state to
inspect the finished picture, which was afterwards publicly exhibited
at Ghent. When it is considered that this is the very first painting
in oil that has come down to us it is in every respect a most
marvellous performance. The three large central panels in the upper
portion are especially noble and impressive, that of "God the Father,"
in the centre, being finely expressive of majesty and repose. In the
panel to the left of the Virgin Mary is a group of youthful angels
singing, who are so skilfully painted that "one can readily tell from
looking at them which is singing the dominant, which the
counter-tenor, and which the tenor and the bass," according to an
early critic. We were told by a Belgian curé with whom we talked about
this wonderful picture shortly before our visit to Ghent that the work
is so fine in its details that in the case of the figures in the
foreground who are holding open in their hands copies of the
Scriptures the very passage at which each book is opened can be
distinguished! We verified this remarkable assertion by the aid of a
glass loaned us by an attendant.

[Footnote 1: See "The Early Flemish Painters," by J. A. Crowe and G.
B. Cavalcaselle, pp. 49-63; and "Belgium, Its Cities," by Grant Allen,
pp. 164-175.]

The subsequent history of the painting is interesting. Philip II, who
carried many Flemish masterpieces away to Spain, admired this one,
but contented himself with a copy by Michel Coxcie, for which he paid
four thousand ducats--which was quite likely more than the Van Eyck
brothers received for the original. About 1578 the Calvinists of Ghent
wished to present the painting to Queen Elizabeth in return for her
support of their sect. For a time it was placed in the Hotel de Ville
at Ghent, but was finally restored to the cathedral. After several
other escapes from destruction or shipment abroad the work was finally
dismembered out of deference to the views of Joseph II of Austria,
during the period of Austrian rule in Flanders. He objected to the
nude figures of Adam and Eve as unsuited to a church, and these were
accordingly removed. The entire work was carried away during the
French Revolution, but was returned some years later. The wings,
however, were not restored to their original position, and were
finally sold to a London dealer for four thousand pounds sterling. He,
in turn, sold them to the King of Prussia, and they are now in the
Museum of Berlin. The wings now at St. Bavon are the copies made by
Coxcie. The original panels of Adam and Eve were stored for many years
in the cellars of St. Bavon, and then were exchanged with the Belgian
Government for the Coxcie wings just mentioned. They are now in the
Brussels Museum. The Adam and Eve at St. Bavon are not even copies of
the originals.

[Illustration: "SINGING ANGELS" FROM "THE ADORATION OF THE
LAMB."--JEAN VAN EYCK.]

Jean Van Eyck enjoyed the confidence and affection of Philip the Good
until his death, and was often sent on diplomatic missions of great
importance. On one occasion he was sent to Portugal with an embassy
appointed to propose a marriage between his ducal patron and the
Princess Isabel. Jean was also commissioned to paint the portrait of
the fair Isabel so that his master could judge for himself whether her
charms were as great as he had fancied them to be. This portrait was
duly painted and in the inventory of the possessions of Margaret of
Austria there was a painting by Jean Van Eyck called _La belle
Portugalaise_, which was, no doubt, the very one painted for Duke
Philip. It must have been pleasing, for he married the lady. As late
as 1516 _La belle Portugalaise_ was still in existence at Malines. It
represented a lady in a red habit with sable trimmings, attended by
St. Nicholas. It has since disappeared--one of the many thousands that
were lost or destroyed during the wars of the sixteenth to the
eighteenth centuries, but both historically and artistically one
of the most interesting of them all. There are a considerable number
of authenticated paintings by Jean Van Eyck still in existence.
Several of these are in the original frames with the artist's famous
motto, "_Als ik kan_" (As I can), more or less legible. It is by no
means unlikely that in time to come one or more of those now lost will
be discovered, thus adding to the priceless heritage that the world
owes to his immortal brush.

[Illustration: _"George Van der Paele, Canon of St. Donatian
worshipping the Madonna" Jean Van Eyck_]

Two of the most celebrated of Jean Van Eyck's paintings can be seen at
Bruges. One of these is in the Museum and shows George Van der Paele,
Canon of St. Donatian, worshipping the Madonna. Of the portrait of the
worthy donor Max Rooses, the Director of the Plantin-Moretus Museum at
Antwerp, says: "The Canon's face is so astoundingly true to life that
it is perhaps the most marvellous piece of painting that ever aspired
to reproduce a human physiognomy. This firm, fat painting renders at
once the cracks of the epidermis and the softness of the flesh. Beside
this head with its lovingly wrought furrows and wrinkles gleam the
dazzling white of the surplice with its greenish shimmer, the intense
red of Mary's mantle, St. Donatian's flowing cape, and the metallic
reflections of St. George's breastplate." Equally fine as an example
of faithful portrait painting is the picture of the artist's wife
which also hangs in this interesting little gallery of old masters.

Four years after Jean Van Eyck's death, which occurred in 1440,
another Flemish painter of note acquired citizen's rights at Bruges.
This was Petrus Christus. The most celebrated of his paintings depicts
the Legend of Ste. Godeberte. The story was that this young lady's
parents had planned a rich marriage for her, whereas she preferred to
enter a convent. The prospective bride and her groom visited a
jeweller's to select the wedding ring and there encountered St. Eloi,
or Elisius, who was both a goldsmith and a bishop. The Saint, knowing
the wishes of the maiden, placed the ring upon her finger himself,
thereby dedicating her to the service of the Lord. This picture was
painted for the Goldsmiths' Guild of Antwerp, passed into the
collection of Baron Oppenheim, of Cologne, and is now in a private
gallery.

Besides the "Adoration of the Lamb," the Cathedral of St. Bavon
possesses enough other notable works of art to equip a small museum.
One of these is the wooden pulpit, carved by P. H. Verbruggen, and
representing the glorification of St. Bavon. Another is the famous
tomb of Bishop Triest carved by Jerome Duquesnoy in 1654. This
represents the Bishop reclining on a couch, and has been termed "the
most beautiful piece of statuary in the country." Still a third
masterpiece is "St. Bavon withdrawing from the World," by Rubens.
There are a score of other paintings and pieces of sculpture of
interest and importance, but all are so over-shadowed by the famous
polyptych that the average tourist scarcely notices them unless he
goes back to this remarkable church several times. In front of the
Château of Girard, and close to the cathedral, stands the impressive
monument to the two Van Eycks erected by the city in 1913. It is by
the sculptor Georges Verbanck and represents the brothers receiving
the homage of the nations.

CHAPTER XII

TOURNAI, THE OLDEST CITY IN BELGIUM

As the ladies were somewhat fatigued by our rambles around Flanders it
was decided that they would spend two or three quiet days with la
tante Rosa while the Professor and I made daily excursions into
wonderland, returning to the home of our hostess every night. The
nearest point of interest was the city of Tournai, the oldest city in
all Belgium. There was no direct railway line, however, and--as on
many other occasions during our pilgrimage--we had no little trouble
studying out a _correspondence_, or set of connections, that would
take us there and back without loss of time. We started each morning
before six o'clock and found the trains at that time of day made up
mostly of fourth-class coaches filled with working people. The Belgian
State Railway sells _billets d'abonnement_ for these trains at
incredibly low rates--a few sous a month for short trips from one town
to the next, and a few francs a month for rides half way across the
Kingdom. I have known clerks residing in the extreme southern end of
the Department of Hainaut, close to the French frontier, who ride
every day to Mons, ten or fifteen miles distant, and there take a
train for Brussels. The object of this low rate of fare is the
paternal desire of the Government that labourers should be able to
obtain work wherever it may be found and still retain their homes in
the villages in which they were born and raised. Home ties are very
strong in Belgium, and the people cheerfully travel considerable
distances under this plan rather than move away from their relatives
and friends. Economically it is a very good thing for the country as a
whole, since it enables the labourer out of work to look for a place
in a hundred different towns and the employer to draw his help from an
equally wide area. Thus in times that are not abnormally bad there are
very few industrial plants without their full quota of hands, and very
few hands out of work.

The fourth-class coaches are built like the third-class, with cross
divisions making several compartments, but the division walls do not
extend to the roof so the passengers can toss things to one another
over them. Separate cars are provided for men and women, many
scandals having resulted from the promiscuous herding of both sexes
which prevailed some twenty years ago. The occupants of the men's cars
are of all ages, from tiny lads who seem to be hardly more than eight
or nine--but are no doubt older, as the Belgian laws no longer permit
minors of that age to work--to grandsires of eighty. All are roughly
clad, ready to take up their respective tasks the moment they
arrive--no one thinks of having a separate suit for travelling as most
of the workmen who commute to and from an American city would do. In
the women's car the occupants are mostly young girls from fifteen to
twenty, with a sprinkling of little girls and some women up to thirty,
but very few who appear to be older than that. They always seem to be
happy, singing and "carrying-on" with the utmost abandon. They are
ready to start a flirtation at a moment's notice and occasionally,
when their car halts in a station next to some other train in which
there are young men near the windows, the whole bevy of charmers
devotes itself to making conquests--opening the windows and shouting a
volley of good-natured raillery to which, if they are natives and used
to it, the youngsters retort in kind. Then, as the trains start, the
laughing crowd throws kisses by handfuls and the flirtation is over.

As our train jolted along, with frequent stops to take on and let off
fourth-class passengers, the Professor explained to me that to be
consistent to his plan we really should have visited Tournai first.
However, it was far out of the way as a starting point, and its
history did not dominate that of all Flanders in the way that the
early history of Bruges did. In fact, while in early times subject to
the Counts of Flanders, it was often subject to the French Crown for
generations at a time, and is usually regarded as a Walloon rather
than a Flemish city. Its influence on Flemish art and architecture,
however, led us to include this Ville d'Art in our itinerary.

According to the scholars Tournai is the _Turris Nerviorum_ of Cæsar,
the capital of the Nervii, and one of the oldest towns north of the
Alps. In 299 it was the scene of the martyrdom of St. Piat, who
founded a church on the site of the cathedral. As the visitor gazes at
that magnificent structure he can reflect that the ground on which it
stands has been consecrated to divine worship for more than sixteen
hundred years. During the fourth and fifth centuries Tournai was the
capital of the branch of the Franks that ruled over the greater part
of what is now Belgium, but the history of these early days when the
Roman Empire was tottering to its fall is very meagre, and more than
half legend at best. The first kings of the Merovingian line are
shadowy, mythical personages who stalk across the pages of history
like the ghost in Hamlet--far off, dim, but awe-inspiring.

Childeric is one of the most picturesque of these early kings.
Expelled from the tribe owing to his youthful gallantries, he fled to
the court of Basinus, King of the Thuringians. The queen, Basina,
welcomed him even more warmly than her husband, and hardly had
Childeric returned home, on being recalled by the tribe some years
later to rule over them, than she followed him. Arrived at his court,
she announced that she had come to marry him because he was the
bravest, strongest and handsomest man she had heard of. She added,
naïvely, that if she knew of another who surpassed him in these
particulars not even the sea could keep her from such a rival. Basina,
who from all accounts should be the patron saint of the suffragettes,
won her suit and they were married. On the night before the ceremony
mony, according to an ancient chronicle, she bade Childeric go into
the courtyard of the palace at Tournai to see what he might see. He
went at her bidding three times. On the first occasion he beheld a
long procession of lions, unicorns and leopards, struggling and
snapping at one another, but all without a sound, nor did the beasts
cast any shadow. The second time he saw huge bears shambling across
the courtyard which vanished even while he was gazing at them. Then
came packs of wolves which ran in circles and leaped, but silently. On
his last visit he saw dogs of huge size and many colours, and
innumerable cats which always looked behind them. From these portents
Basina explained to him the qualities of the race of kings of which he
was to be the ancestor. Clovis, one of the greatest of the early
Frankish kings, was the child of Childeric and Basina.

In the sixth century Tournai figured prominently in the narrative of
the furious wars between Fredegonda and Brunehault, one of the great
epics of the early Middle Ages. Fredegonda, who was the daughter of a
bondsman, became by virtue of her beauty and imperious will the wife
of Chilperic, King of the Franks. Brunehault, equally beautiful, but
a king's daughter as well as the wife of a king--Sigebert, brother of
Chilperic--began the contest to avenge the death of her sister
Galeswintha, whom Fredegonda had caused to be slain. Chilperic and
Fredegonda were besieged at Tournai in 575, but the latter caused the
murder of Sigebert, upon whose death the besieging army dispersed.
Incidents in this siege are depicted in the stained-glass windows of
the cathedral. The contest between the two fierce queens lasted more
than half a century, Brunehault at the last being torn to pieces by
wild horses, when more than eighty years old, by the son of her
life-long rival.

In 880 the Norsemen fell upon the city and its inhabitants fled to
Noyon, where they remained for thirty-one years. In its subsequent
history the old town sustained more than its share of sieges, the
common lot of all frontier places, and changed hands oftener than any
other European city. For many generations it was subject to the early
Counts of Flanders. Philip Augustus then annexed it to France, to
which it belonged until the reign of Francis I. In 1340 occurred the
most famous of all its sieges. It belonged at that time to France and
was attacked by the English under Edward III, a huge army of Flemings
under Jacques Van Artevelde, the Duke of Brabant and the Count of
Hainaut with their followers and many others--a host estimated by
Froissart at one hundred and twenty thousand men. That delightful
historian devotes more than a dozen chapters to a gossipy account of
the siege, which lasted more than eleven weeks and was only raised by
the approach of a French army when the supply of provisions was
reduced to three days' rations. In 1513 Tournai was captured by Henry
VIII, who gave the see to Cardinal Wolsey, but soon sold it back to
the French. The huge round tower a little distance to the right as one
enters the city from the railway station was erected by the English
King during his short rule. In 1521 the city was captured by Charles
the Fifth, becoming a part of his domains, and in 1581 it sustained
another famous siege. In common with the rest of Flanders and the Low
Countries, the city had revolted against the atrocities of Philip II.
It was besieged by the Prince of Parma and heroically defended by
Christine, Princess of Epinoy, whose statue stands in the Grande
Place. She was herself wounded and had lost more than three-fourths of
the garrison before she surrendered.

Tournai once more passed into the hands of the French in 1668, when
it was captured by Louis XIV and afterwards elaborately fortified by
Vauban, was retaken by Marlborough in 1709, returned to Austria five
years later, and captured once more by the French after the battle of
Fontenoy in 1745. Four years later it was again restored to Austria,
but was twice taken by the armies of the first French republic,
remaining French territory till the battle of Waterloo. It would be a
difficult matter to say how often its fortifications have been built,
demolished, rebuilt and again destroyed.

The most noteworthy of these later sieges was that of 1745, during the
War of the Austrian Succession, which brought the English and French
into conflict even along the frontiers of their far-off American
colonies. Austrian Flanders became the arena of the decisive campaign
in this war--in which its inhabitants had absolutely no interest or
concern whatever--and Tournai was the prize for which the armies
fought. It was during this and the preceding century that Flanders
became "the cockpit of Europe"--foreign armies sweeping over its
fertile plains in wars the very purpose of which was unknown to the
peasants who helplessly saw their cattle and crops swept away and
their farmsteads and villages destroyed. It is curious to remark how
frequently the English were engaged in these conflicts, particularly
in the vicinity of Tournai. In the words of Lord Beaconsfield,
"Flanders has been trodden by the feet and watered with the blood of
successive generations of British soldiers."

An English force formed the nucleus and the backbone of the allied
army, which was commanded by the Duke of Cumberland, brother of King
George II. The French forces were led by Maurice de Saxe, the greatest
military leader of that generation, as Marlborough had been of the one
before it. King Louis XV--for almost the only time in his long
reign--played the part of a man throughout this campaign. When Saxe
explained his plan of campaign, which involved a scheme of field
fortifications, the "carpet generals" protested loudly that Frenchmen
were well able to meet their foes on open ground. Louis silenced these
arm-chair critics and replied to his great field-marshal, "In
confiding to you the command of my army I intend that every one shall
obey you, and I will be the first to set an example of obedience."

For a time the allies, which consisted of English, Hanoverian, Dutch
and Austrian troops--very few Flemings taking part in this campaign
on either side--were in doubt whether Saxe intended to attack Mons,
St. Ghislain or Tournai. With his usual rapidity of action, the French
leader, when his forces suddenly appeared before Tournai, had that
city completely invested before the allies knew where he was. It was
early in the month of May, and very rainy, when the allied army
started from Brussels and marched through the mud toward the
beleaguered city. On the evening of May tenth, eleven days after the
siege had begun, they arrived within sight of the quintuple towers of
the cathedral and the adjacent belfry. Their position was southeast of
the city, on the route to St. Ghislain and Mons, and the towers were
therefore sharply outlined against the sunset as the army, standing on
rising ground, gazed across the rolling country that was to be the
morrow's battlefield.

Saxe had made the most of the slowness of the allies' advance by
choosing the ground where he would give battle, and strengthening his
position with field redoubts, using the little village of Fontenoy as
a base. The allies attacked from the direction of the little village
of Vezon, while Louis XV watched the battle from a hill near the
intersection of the Mons road with that leading from Ramecroix to
Antoing. The attack began at two o'clock in the morning, the English
advancing in a hollow square, and it was not until after two in the
afternoon that Saxe, after bringing every man in his forces into
action, had the satisfaction of seeing the great square falter and
turn slowly back--halting every hundred yards to beat off its foes.
The fiercest unit in the French army was a brigade of Irish volunteers
who fought like tigers, the men flinging themselves against the
stubborn English square again and again. A learned historian, who has
devoted more than eighty pages to a description of the battle, fails
to give so clear an idea of its decisive moment as does the poet
Thomas Osborne Davis in half as many lines:

"Thrice at the huts of Fontenoy the English column failed,
And twice the lines of Saint Antoine the Dutch in vain assailed;
For town and slope were filled with fort and flanking battery,
And well they swept the English ranks and Dutch auxiliary.
As vainly through De Barri's wood the British soldiers burst,
The French artillery drove them back, diminished and dispersed.
The bloody Duke of Cumberland beheld with anxious eye,
And ordered up his last reserves, his latest chance to try.
On Fontenoy, on Fontenoy, how fast his generals ride!
And mustering came his chosen troops, like clouds at eventide.

"Six thousand English veterans in stately column tread;
Their cannon blaze in front and flank, Lord Hay is at their head.
Steady they step a-down the slope, steady they climb the hill,
Steady they load, steady they fire, moving right onward still,
Betwixt the wood and Fontenoy, as through a furnace blast,
Through rampart, trench and palisade, and bullets showering fast;
And on the open plain above they rose and kept their course,
With ready fire and grim resolve that mocked at hostile force;
Past Fontenoy, past Fontenoy, while thinner grew their ranks,
They broke, as broke the Zuyder Zee through Holland's ocean banks.

* * * * *

"'Push on my household cavalry!' King Louis madly cried.
To death they rush, but rude their shock; not unavenged they died.
On through the camp the column trod--King Louis turns his rein.
'Not yet, my liege,' Saxe interposed; 'the Irish troops remain.'
'Lord Claire,' he said, 'you have your wish; there are your Saxon
foes!'
The Marshal almost smiles to see, so furiously he goes,
How fierce the looks these exiles wear, who're wont to be so gay!
The treasured wrongs of fifty years are in their hearts to-day.
On Fontenoy, on Fontenoy, nor ever yet elsewhere,
Rushed on to fight a nobler band than these proud exiles were.

* * * * *

"Like lions leaping at a fold, when mad with hunger's pang,
Right up against the English line the Irish exiles sprang;
Bright was their steel, 'tis bloody now, their guns are filled with
gore;
Through shattered ranks and severed files and trampled flags they
tore.
The English strove with desperate strength; paused, rallied,
staggered, fled;
The green hillside is matted close with dying and with dead.
Across the plain and far away passed on that hideous wrack
While cavalier and Fantassin rush in upon their track.
On Fontenoy, on Fontenoy, like eagles in the sun,
With bloody plumes the Irish stand--the field is fought and won!"

On our first day's visit the Professor devoted most of the time to the
cathedral and the remains that still exist of the earliest period of
Tournai's long and varied history. As we approached the city, past the
vast excavations around Antoing connected with the lime pits and kilns
and cement works that there abound, we could see the five spires of
the cathedral in the distance. Antoing is only a mile and a half from
Fontenoy, and the battlefield--marked by a monument erected in
1907--is happily free from the pits that scar so much of the
countryside thereabouts, and no doubt looks to-day very much as it did
on the day of the great fight.

The cathedral of Tournai is the oldest, the most vast, and decidedly
the most imposing religious edifice in Belgium. Its five great towers
dominate the entire city and are visible for miles across the
surrounding plains. The oldest portions of the present structure date
from about 880, when the inhabitants of Tournai returned after the
invasion of the Norsemen. The side porches of the naves belong to this
earliest period. In 1054 a fire destroyed the upper part of the
cathedral and it was shortly after this that the towers were built.
There were originally seven of these, the one in the centre being a
gigantic square structure rising above all the others. The group as it
then stood was without a rival in Europe, but the two towers to the
east of the central one were removed with the ancient choir and the
height of the central tower reduced. In their present form, however,
the towers compose a magnificent assemblage.

[Illustration: GENERAL VIEW OF TOURNAI AND THE FIVE-TOWERED
CATHEDRAL.]

The four outer towers, which surround the now much shorter central
one, are two hundred and seventy-two feet high, and, although
apparently alike at the first glance, are not entirely so--a
circumstance that enhances rather than detracts from the
picturesqueness of the group. Placed at the crossing of the nave and
the transept these towers, from without, suggest the fantastic idea
that instead of one there are two cathedrals, each facing the other,
and with the central tower uniting them.

In reality, the edifice is large enough to make two cathedrals and
more, the interior being four hundred and twenty-six feet in length
and two hundred and twenty feet in width across the transept. Built at
different epochs, this imposing edifice constitutes a veritable
history in stone of the development of mediæval architecture. The nave
was completed in 1070 and the transept in the eleventh and
twelfth centuries. Both are in the Romanesque style, while the
choir--originally Romanesque--was rebuilt in 1242-1325 in the early
Gothic style. It is both longer and almost fifty feet higher than the
older nave--a fact that leads the observer looking at the structure
from without to mistake it for the nave itself. In addition to the
main edifice there is a small parish chapel built against the north
side of the cathedral, a Gothic edifice dating from 1516-1518, while
attached to it by a passage over a picturesque arch called _Le
fausseporte_ is the Bishop's palace. Here there is another chapel, the
Chapel of the Bishops, dating from the twelfth century.

Like most religious structures in Belgium, the cathedral was for many
years surrounded, and almost entirely obscured, by small private
houses of all kinds built up against it. These have now been removed,
although there are still a few more that we were told were destined to
come down in order to give a better view of the structure from one
side. There are three entrances, of which two are noteworthy. One of
these, called the Porte Mantille, is on the north side facing the
Place des Acacias, and dates from the twelfth century. It is the
oldest part of the exterior, and looks it, the round arch of the
doorway being surrounded by quaint Romanesque sculptures. The winds of
seven hundred winters have worn these bas-reliefs down considerably,
but they are still surprisingly clear, the faces, armour and costumes
of the figures being quite distinct. They are among the oldest stone
carvings in Europe and show that the art of sculpture was practised
at Tournai within a century or two after the retirement of the
Norsemen.

Even more interesting is the fine façade just behind the groined porch
that faces the Place de l'Evêché. From a distance this end of the
cathedral is hardly pleasing, the sixteenth-century porch concealing
the early Romanesque façade and being out of harmony with it. After
passing within the arches, however, the visitor forgets all this and
is lost in wonder and admiration at the wealth of stone carving that
decorates the walls on both sides of the main entrance. There is no
such decoration in stone to be seen in all Flanders, for the churches
of Tournai escaped the fury of the iconoclasts--Tournai, at that time,
belonging to France. Here the sculptors of Tournai have achieved a
veritable masterpiece. The work is in three tiers and belongs to three
different periods. The lowest tier, carved in blue stone quarried in
Tournai itself or near by, is the most remarkable, and is regarded by
the critics as the finest in artistic merit. It dates from the
thirteenth century and represents Adam and Eve and various prophets
and fathers of the church. The second zone is in white stone, now grey
with age, and was the work of the sixteenth century. It comprises a
series of small panels carved in bas-relief, those at the left
depicting--so the authorities at Tournai tell us--a religious
procession, and those at the right various incidents in the history of
King Childeric. The highest tier comprises a series of large statues
in high relief of the apostles, the Virgin Mary, St. Piat and St.
Eleuthereus. Although the figures are boldly conceived and well
executed, and, in the main, fairly well preserved, they are
artistically less important than the others. In its entirety, however,
this entrance--"_le portail_," "_the_ entrance," as the people of
Tournai style it--is a place of wonderful interest, a place to be
visited again and again under different lights and in different moods.

Passing into the interior of the cathedral the visitor is again given
the impression that here he is not in one church but at least two and
possibly more. The ancient nave, with its vaulted roof supported by
three series of Romanesque arches placed one above another, seems
somehow to be complete by itself and to have no relation to the
far-off choir which is partially cut off from it by an elaborately
carved rood loft, which--in its flamboyant Renaissance style--seems
out of place and tends to mar the general effect of the vast
interior. The pillars in the nave are not uniform, but have a wide
diversity of capitals--some decorated with the lotus or conventional
foliage, others with beasts or birds or quaint, fantastic heads. At
the intersection of the nave and transept the great pillars supporting
the central tower are of tremendous proportions and the view looking
upward from this point is one of extraordinary grandeur. Here, too,
the rood loft, or _jubé_, can be studied to best advantage. The work
of Corneille Floris of Antwerp and executed in 1572, it is undoubtedly
one of the masterpieces of sculpture of its period. The Doric columns
are of red marble, the architectural outlines of the structure in
black marble, and the medallions and other bas-reliefs in white.
Passing through one of the three arches of this portal we come to the
noble choir. This is the most beautiful portion of the cathedral, its
vast height and the richly coloured light that streams downward from
its fine stained-glass windows creating a very atmosphere of majesty
and inspiration.

While we were inspecting the choir and the ambulatory, which contains
several paintings and carvings of no little interest, the Professor
discovered that the hours had been slipping by faster than we had
imagined and as there were several relics of the earliest period of
the city's history that we wished to visit on our first day we decided
to betake ourselves to the Grande Place and postpone our visit to the
far-famed treasury of the cathedral to another day. We found a little
place to dine directly facing the Belfry, and with the Princess of
Epinoy, in her coat of mail and brandishing her battle-axe, standing
on her monument hard by. The Place is a very large one, but most of
the houses facing it have been so modernized as to lose much of their
mediæval aspect, although the ancient Cloth Hall--which has recently
been restored--no doubt looks much as it did when in its prime.

The Belfry was naturally our first stopping place after we had done
justice to the excellent dinner in half a dozen courses that two
francs had secured for us. This edifice dates from 1187, and stands
slightly back from the apex of the triangle formed by the Grande
Place. According to some authorities the peculiar shape of the Place
is due to the intersection of two Roman roads at the point where the
Belfry now stands. Externally the tower, which is two hundred and
thirty-six feet high, strikingly resembles the Belfry of Ghent.
Within, after climbing a winding stairway for some distance, we
were shown several large rooms with heavy timber ceilings that were
once used as prison cells. They looked fairly comfortable, as compared
with the dungeons in the Château des Comtes, and one of them was then
in use by the small son of the concierge as a play-room and was
littered with toys--mostly of his own manufacture, apparently. The
doors to these "cells" were of massive construction and locked by keys
nearly a foot long, or at least it seemed so, though we did not
measure them. The view from the top of the edifice is picturesque and
well worth the climb. A melodious set of chimes is installed near the
top, which ring every half hour. The big bell, _la Bancloque_, which
called the people to arms, was cast in 1392, and must have been rung
quite frequently during the stirring days when Tournai was being
fought for by armies from half the countries in Europe.

[Illustration: THE BELFRY, TOURNAI.]

From the Belfry we visited the ancient Church of St. Brice which
stands in one of the very oldest quarters of the city. Almost facing
the church are two buildings known as the Roman houses. Although
hardly dating from the time of the Romans they are undoubtedly very
ancient. Only the outer walls, however, remain of the original
construction, the interiors dating from a much later period. One of
these houses was untenanted when we were there, and the other was an
estaminet. We entered it and ordered drinks, and asked if we could see
the up-stairs rooms, but apparently they were not very tidy as the
landlady declined to show them, assuring us that there was nothing to
see. At No. 18 on the same street, rue Barre-Saint-Brice, is another
estaminet in a house of very ancient construction. After quite a
search we found the caretaker of the church. As old as the oldest part
of the cathedral this structure is a remarkable example of Romanesque
architecture. Externally it looks from the rear like three stone barns
built close together, but its square tower is lofty and imposing,
although much injured by a silly sort of hat which was stuck on early
in the last century. The most interesting object within was a quaint
Tournai tapestry representing a variety of Biblical subjects.

In the year 1653 archeologists and historians throughout Europe were
greatly excited over one of the most interesting finds of ancient
relics ever recorded. In the house now No. 8 on the Terrace
Saint-Brice, on one side of the church, was dug up at a depth of eight
feet a veritable museum of arms and jewels since known as the
Treasure of Childeric I, whose marriage with Basina was preceded by so
many portents. More than a hundred gold coins of the Byzantine
Emperors were found, several hundred golden bees, a quantity of silver
money of great antiquity, divers clasps and buckles--all mingled with
the remains of human bones, which may have been those of the
Merovingian King and his imperious spouse. One ring bore a bust of a
man with long hair holding a lance, with the inscription _Childerici
Regis_. After passing through various hands the collection came into
the possession of Louis XIV, and eventually into the Bibliotheque
Royale at Paris. Here, in 1831, it was stolen. The thieves were
pursued and threw their booty into the Seine, where a few pieces were
afterwards recovered and are now in the numismatic collection of the
Bibliotheque Nationale at Paris.

Not far from this interesting old quarter are some picturesque remains
of the ancient city walls, two ivy covered towers facing a moat in
which there is still some water. These are called the Marvis Towers,
and were erected during the thirteenth century. On our way back to the
station we made a little detour in order to see the curious _Pont des
Trous_--literally "the Bridge of the Holes," meaning loopholes--the
most ancient specimen of mediæval military architecture in Belgium.
The tower on the side farthest from the centre of the city was built
prior to 1259, the other in 1304, and the bridge with its three ogival
arches in 1330. Across the bridge at short intervals are narrow
loopholes to enable the defenders to fire at foes approaching by way
of the River Scheldt. One of the towers is said to contain a fine
vaulted room, but as we were unable to find any one who knew who had
the key to the little door at its foot we did not see this room or the
passage-way across the bridge. Between this bridge and the railway
line we noticed a high stone wall of ancient construction which, from
its location, may also have been a fragment of the city walls. Further
on is the Henry VIII tower, which was built by the English monarch
after he captured the city in 1513, as part of a citadel intended to
hold the citizens in check. The tower is slightly over seventy-five
feet in diameter and the walls at the base are said to be twenty feet
thick. The rest of the citadel has long since disappeared and this
vestige of it is now the centre of a pleasant little park much
frequented on sunny days by nursemaids and children. Amid these
peaceful surroundings it was, when we saw it, hard to picture the old
tower as having ever been the scene of fierce conflicts with furious
foes striving to batter a breach in its massive walls or scale it with
long ladders, while its defenders fired volley after volley through
its tiny windows and flung down big stones or boiling tar from its
parapet.

The strategy of the early part of the present war did not call for a
protracted defence of Tournai, with the result that, as this is being
written, the old city is reported to have suffered little or no
damage. In view of the frequency with which it had been contended for
in former wars it is to be hoped that this one--which has so far been
more destructive than all previous wars put together--will pass quaint
old Tournai by and that the great cathedral with its five towers and
marvellous stone carvings may be spared for generations yet to come.

CHAPTER XIII

SEVEN CENTURIES OF TOURNAISIAN ART

The citizens of Tournai of to-day have given to their beautiful city
the name of "Ville d'Art." To be sure, the same title is claimed for
Bruges and Ghent, for Antwerp and Malines. The first two are justly
proud of their many beautiful monuments of the past and their
associations with the work of the early Flemish painters, Antwerp of
its connection with the later development of painting in Flanders and
the most artistic of the early printers, Malines of its lace and its
splendid examples of religious architecture and art. Tournai, however,
has a broader title to the phrase than any of them in that the
artistic activities of its gifted sons have not been confined to one
medium or two, but have been independently developed along half a
score of different lines and during a period covering more than seven
centuries. Not only is the city a rich repository of the artistic
productions of past ages, but it is still more notable in having been
one of the most prolific producers of beautiful and artistic things.
To the true connoisseur a stay of several weeks in this fine old
border town would be none too long to afford opportunity to study all
of its collections and rummage in out-of-the-way corners for stray
specimens that the dealers and bargain hunters have overlooked.
Unfortunately, neither the Professor nor I can lay claim to more than
a rudimentary knowledge of such matters and in the chronicle of our
rambles in the City of Art there may be much to make the judicious
grieve. It is not, however, so much in order to give an account of
what we saw that this chapter is written as in the hope that it may
suggest how much there is to see for those whose eyes are better
trained and more discriminating than ours.

Tournai looms large in the history of early Flemish painting, for it
was here that the next important group of masters after the Van Eycks
appeared. As early as the first half of the fourteenth century
paintings on cloth were executed at Tournai, followed by what was
termed "flat painting" for panels. About 1406 the first of the great
artists whose names have come down to us settled at Tournai. This was
Robert Campin. He acquired the right of citizenship in 1410 and died
in 1444, being thus a contemporary of the Van Eycks. He is known to
have painted many works, but until recently none of these had been
definitely identified. Now, thanks to the earnest and patient study of
Belgian scholars, he seems likely to be given his rightful place as
one of the greatest of the early Flemish masters--after having been
completely forgotten for nearly five hundred years! His most important
work is an altarpiece in the possession of the Mérode family at
Brussels, while the Frankfort Museum and the Prado at Madrid contain
some fine examples of his skill.

It is known that Robert Campin was the master of two other Tournai
artists, Rogier Van der Weyden and Jacques Daret, of whom the former
soon far surpassed his teacher in renown. Daret entered the atelier of
Robert Campin in 1418, when a lad of fourteen, obtained the title of
apprentice in 1427, and became a member of the Guild of St. Luke in
1432. One of his pictures, a panel showing the Nativity, was in the
collection of the late Mr. J. Pierpont Morgan. Van der Weyden, whose
Walloon name was Roger de la Pasture, became one of Campin's
apprentices in 1427--the same date as Daret--and was admitted to the
guild of the painters at Tournai in 1432. He spent much of his time at
Brussels, however, and is sometimes considered as belonging to that
city rather than Tournai. A "Descent from the Cross" now at the
Escorial is his most famous picture. It was painted for the Archers'
Company at Louvain and a copy of it, made by the master himself, was
hung in the Church of St. Pierre in that city. About 1430 Van der
Weyden was commissioned to paint four large panels for the Hall of
Justice in the new Hotel de Ville at Brussels. Two of these showed
Trajan, the Just Emperor, and the other two depicted the Justice of
Herkenbald, and for more than two centuries the series was regarded as
the finest group of paintings in the Low Countries. They were
destroyed at the bombardment of Brussels in 1695, but tapestries
copied from the originals still exist in the Museum at Berne, having
been captured by the Swiss when Charles the Bold was defeated at
Granson.

In 1443 the artist began what in the judgment of the art critics was
his most important work, an altarpiece representing "The Last
Judgment" for the chapel of a hospital at Beaune, near Dijon in
Burgundy, where it still remains. The museum at Antwerp contains a
triptych of the Seven Sacraments by this master, showing the interior
of a cathedral suggestive of that of Tournai--and, in fact, it was for
the Bishop of Tournai that it was originally painted. Nearly every
important art gallery in Europe contains one or more works by Van der
Weyden, who not only was very industrious, receiving numerous orders
from the great men of his day, but fortunate in having most of his
masterpieces preserved from the destruction that overtook so much of
the work of the early Flemish artists.

The former Cloth Hall of Tournai, erected in 1610, was completely and
very successfully restored in 1884, and is now used to house an
admirable little collection of paintings and a museum of antiquities.
The paintings are, for the most part, the work of Tournai artists, and
most of its three hundred and eighty titles are of local rather than
international interest. There are several works, however, of the
highest rank, and the museum as a whole serves admirably to illustrate
the fact that the traditions and inspiration of the first great
masters of Flemish painting, whose work has made the name of Tournai
illustrious for all time, have never been wholly forgotten in their
native city. To be sure, there is nothing to represent Robert
Campin or Jacques Daret, nor had the caretaker ever heard of either of
them--a fact hardly to be wondered at, since the works of the former
have not yet been fully identified by the critics. Van der Weyden is
credited with a "Descent from the Cross" in the museum catalogue, but
many critics hold this to be a copy of a lost work by Hugo Van der
Goes. Those in charge of the museum have wisely included some
excellent photographs of the more famous works by Van der Weyden in
the leading European galleries--a plan that might well be followed
with respect to the other notable works by Tournaisian artists. The
masterpiece of the collection is the well known "Last Honours to
Counts Egmont and Horn," by Louis Gallait, the greatest of Tournai's
modern artists, whose statue stands in the little park before the
railway station. A replica of this fine but gruesome work was painted
by the artist for the Antwerp museum. The Tournai museum contains
nearly a dozen other works bequeathed to the city by this painter,
including several admirable portraits--a branch in which he was
especially skilful. The powerful "Abdication of Charles V" by this
master hangs in the Brussels museum, and his notable "Last Moments of
the Comte d'Egmont" in the museum of Berlin.

[Illustration: A TRIPTYCH OF THE SEVEN SACRAMENTS BY ROGIER VAN DER
WEYDEN.]

Equally fine in a very different way, but less widely known, is a
spirited painting by a comparatively unknown artist, Van Severdonck,
representing the Princess of Epinoy valiantly defending a breach in
the walls during the siege of Tournai in 1581. We were unable to
obtain a photograph of this admirable work as it is so hung that it is
difficult to get a good light upon it. A fine portrait of St. Donatian
is attributed in the catalogue to Jan Gossaert or Mabuse (from
Maubeuge where he was born). By some critics it is assigned to
Bellegambe, who was born at Douai in French Flanders and was a
contemporary of Gossaert. The museum also contains works by Hennebicq,
who painted the historical picture of Philip Augustus granting a
charter to the city of Tournai in the Hotel de Ville; Hennequin, the
teacher of Gallait; Stallaert, whose "Death of Dido" is in the museum
of Brussels, and several other natives of Tournai who are less well
known. From Robert Campin, who settled at Tournai about 1406 and died
in 1444, to Louis Gallait, whose three great masterpieces were painted
between 1840 and 1850, and to Stallaert and Hennebicq, who laid aside
their brushes in the first decade of the present century, there
extends a period of five hundred years during which the noble art of
painting has been practised and taught at Tournai by men of commanding
genius--a record in the history of art that no town in the world of
similar size has ever equalled.

It is worthy of remark, in passing, that the art of sculpture which
was practised at Tournai with such notable success as early as the
thirteenth century, and steadily thereafter for several hundred years,
has not survived to the present day. There are no modern sculptors in
the list of Tournaisian artists, but the cathedral is a veritable
museum of the stone carvings of the past. The men of the chisel,
moreover, must be credited with giving some of the inspiration that
made the work of the early artists of the brush so notable. Van der
Weyden, particularly, shows the influence of sculpture and a marked
appreciation of its effects in the framework and backgrounds of many
of his pictures. Moreover, for several centuries the sculptors of
Tournai enjoyed a renown that extended throughout Flanders and
northern France. In the churches of Tournai and of many other cities
examples of their work can be seen that show a continuous record of
achievement from the twelfth to the sixteenth centuries.

Closely allied to the carvers of stone were those who worked in metals
and of these Tournai had its full share. A street of the Goldsmiths
(rue des Orfévres) near the Grande Place indicates the importance of
that industry in ancient times. The best example of this branch of
Tournaisian art is to be found in the treasury of the cathedral. This
is the superb Chasse, or Reliquary of St. Eleuthereus, which is
considered to be one of the finest products of the goldsmith's art
during the Middle Ages. While the name of the maker of this
masterpiece is unknown, it is unquestionably of Tournaisian origin and
was completed in 1247. Built in the form of a sarcophagus, and made of
silver, heavily gilded, it is almost bewildering in the richness and
intricacy of its decorations and filigrees. At one end is a large
seated figure of Christ, at the other of St. Eleuthereus, while the
sides contain figures of the Virgin and the Apostles. Around, above
and below these chief figures the artist has placed a labyrinth of
minor ones, of churches and landscapes, of columns, arches and
architectural embellishments, all carved with a richness of design
that cannot be adequately described. Still older, for it dates from
1205, is the Chasse de Notre Dame, another treasure of the cathedral.
This was made by Nicolas de Verdun, a citizen of Tournai, and is of
wood, painted and adorned with curious bas-reliefs representing
incidents from the New Testament. A third chasse, which on account of
its great value is kept under lock and key in the treasury, like that
of St. Eleuthereus, is called the Chasse des Damoiseaux. It is made of
silver and bears in relief, and enamelled, the arms of some of the
patrician families of the city in the thirteenth and fourteenth
centuries, when the Confrerie des Damoiseaux held many brilliant
tournaments in Tournai and other cities. This chasse, the keeper told
us, was not made at Tournai, but at Bruges. Although very beautiful,
it is not considered so notable a work of art as its companion.

During the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries Tournai rivalled Dinant
as a producer of fine copper and brassware, and in this industry the
artistic instincts of its citizens soon led them to produce pieces of
remarkable distinction. One of the finest of these is the baptismal
font in the church of Notre Dame at Hal, made in 1446. The artisans of
Tournai turned out a prodigious number of fine products of the
copper-smith's art during the two centuries mentioned--lamps,
candlesticks, chandeliers, funeral monuments, crucifixes and other
religious articles; and, in fact, it was not until the eighteenth
century that this industry declined, only to give place to the
manufacture of gilded bronze ware.

The cathedral and the museum of antiquities contain some choice
examples of another great Tournaisian art industry of the Middle
Ages--the manufacture of rich tapestries. During the fourteenth
century the renown of the products of Tournai in this field was
already considerable, and between 1440 and 1480 its artisans surpassed
even those of Arras. In richness of colouring, diversity and
sprightliness of subjects, beauty of design and workmanship, the
tapestries of Tournai rank among the finest art productions of the
Middle Ages. In 1477, when Louis XI seized Arras and dispersed its
workmen, many of them fled to Tournai, Audenaerde and Brussels,
establishing the industry in those cities. Tournai, where it had
already made great progress, was the first to benefit by this
emigration and for a time became the leading tapestry-making centre in
Europe. It was the school of Tournai that was the true forerunner of
the still more famous tapestry weavers of Brussels in depicting
historical and mythological scenes of the utmost vivacity and
richness, while the ateliers of Audenaerde specialised more largely in
quieter pastoral scenes and landscapes. Philip the Good, the most
fastidious connoisseur of his age, ordered several tapestries at
Tournai, including the history of Gideon in eight panels to decorate
the Hall of the Order of the Golden Fleece. In the cathedral the most
notable of the Tournai tapestries illustrates vividly the story of
Joseph, while one of the best in the museum depicts the history of
Abraham--the angels announcing the birth of Isaac. The border of a
Tournai tapestry usually bears the mark of the ateliers of that city,
a castle tower, which is plainly to be seen on the one last mentioned.
The cathedral also possesses a remarkable tapestry of Arras, made by
Pierrot Féré in 1402, and depicting incidents connected with the lives
of St. Piat and St. Eleuthereus and the plague at Tournai. This
masterpiece originally hung above the stalls in the choir, and more
than half of it has been destroyed at one time or another. The
remainder has been placed in a continuous panel, like a panorama,
around a semi-circular chapel back of the treasury, and constitutes
one of the most curious relics of the mediæval art to be seen in
Europe. According to some authorities the designs for this work were
drawn by one of the artists of the Tournai school of painters from
which Van der Weyden subsequently received his instruction. At all
events the scenes are extremely naïve, and the artist has inserted
sundry little devils who are giving expression to their contempt of
the various religious ceremonies depicted in some of the sections in a
manner that, to say the least, is most unconventional.

The wars and troubles of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries very
nearly extinguished the art industries of Tournai, the number of
master-weavers of tapestries declining from two hundred and fourteen
between 1538 and 1553 to forty in 1693, and twenty-nine in 1738. It
was only a few years after the last date, however, when a new art
industry became established in the city. In 1751 a native of Lille,
named François Péterink, began the manufacture at Tournai of fine
porcelains. Dinner sets elaborately decorated and daintily formed,
vases, statues and statuettes of "biscuit" equal to the finest
products of Sèvres, Saxony or England, were turned out in considerable
quantities for more than a century, and the porcelains of Tournai
became so renowned that princes vied with one another to secure these
works of art. It is still possible for the collector to secure some of
these fine products, the trademarks being a rude castle tower or two
crossed swords with tiny crosses at their intersecting angles. In the
finest tableware these are usually in gold, but red or some other
colour should not be despised, as the genuine Tournai ware is becoming
rare and already brings high prices. These marks, it should be added,
have been imitated, and the amateur will do well to consult expert
advice before purchasing.

Still another noteworthy art industry of Tournai merits at least a
word in passing. From the very earliest period after the art of making
stained or painted glass was invented the ateliers of the "Ville
d'Art" have excelled in this fine branch of handicraft. During the
fifteenth century Tournaisian artists made the seven stained glass
windows in the transept of the cathedral that depict in glowing
colours the history of the contest between Childeric and Sigebert and
the donations and privileges granted to the bishop and the cathedral
by Chilperic. Not only are these scenes of the utmost interest
historically, but the student of costumes and customs during the
Middle Ages and the student of early Flemish art will both find in
them abundant material for study. It has already been said that the
cathedral of Tournai is in itself a history of Flemish architecture
covering a period of well-nigh a thousand years. It is also a
veritable museum of Flemish art, and especially of Tournaisian art, in
almost all of its many branches.

In the eighteenth century the apparently inextinguishable artistic
spirit of Tournai found expression in the production of carpets that
recalled the best period of its tapestry weavers. The carpet in the
cabinet of Napoleon at Fontainebleau and the celebrated carpet of the
Legion of Honour, which was shown in the French pavilion at the recent
exposition at Turin, were made at Tournai during this period. At the
same epoch the goldsmiths and coppersmiths, whose activities had never
entirely ceased during the centuries of trouble, began once more to
turn out their artistic products in considerable quantities, nor have
these ateliers entirely ceased operations at Tournai to this day.
Truly the name "Ville d'Art" has been fairly won and kept by this
little city, if seven centuries of almost uninterrupted artistic
endeavour and achievement count for anything!

It is a somewhat remarkable feature of modern Belgium, however, that
while its cities abound in beautiful and artistic things, the common
people--both the working classes and the _bourgeoisie_, or fairly
prosperous middle-class of small merchants and manufacturers--seem to
have very little interest in pictures or works of art, and little or
no desire to acquire them. The average Belgian home is utterly bare of
ornament, save perhaps a crucifix or a religious image or chromo--if
these can be termed ornamental. Reproductions of the fine masterpieces
of painting and statuary in which this little country is so rich are
incredibly scarce and difficult to procure--save only the very famous
pictures, of which copies have been made to sell to tourists in the
larger cities. Even these the native Belgian apparently never buys,
and the art stores carry very few coloured prints of moderate price
such as are to be seen everywhere in the United States. In fact, of
those we saw a considerable proportion were of American manufacture.
Of course these remarks do not allude to the stores handling original
paintings by ancient and modern masters, costly water-colours and
etchings. These are purchased in Belgium, as everywhere else, by the
wealthy class, whose homes are as rich and artistic as any in the
world. It is the absence of interest by the two classes first
mentioned that seems to me so remarkable in a country that for
centuries has been passionately devoted to art in all its
manifestations, and, for its population and area, is without doubt the
world's largest producer of beautiful things.

On the other hand, the Belgian of even the humblest social standing is
invariably fond of flowers. In the cities every woman on her way to or
from market buys a bouquet for the table, while in the country there
is no garden without its little flower-bed, or flower-bordered paths,
or rambling rosebushes climbing up the high brick garden wall or
arching over the entrance. This shows an intense and inborn love of
the beautiful. Why is it, then, that men and women whose daily lives
are spent in creating beautiful things--rare lace, fine wood-carvings,
rich brass or copper ware--are content with homes that are as bare of
ornament as any prison cell?

CHAPTER XIV

THE FALL OF CHARLES THE BOLD--MEMLING AT BRUGES

There are few careers in history more fascinating, more spectacular,
more dramatic, than that of the last Duke of Burgundy who ruled over
Flanders--Charles the Bold. Heir to dominions that included all of
what is now Belgium and Holland, nearly a third of France, and
portions of what is now Germany, Charles was by far the most powerful
of the feudal lords of his day, surpassing the King of France, and
even the Emperor in the splendour and wealth of his court and in the
number of feudal princes and knights whom he could summon to his
standard. He not only had dreams of becoming a king himself, but was,
on one occasion, offered a crown--the Emperor Frederick III proposing
to make him King of Brabant. This he refused--a serious error, for he
could easily have extended his royal title, once legally acquired,
over the rest of his dominions.

In "all the pomp and pageantry of power," however, Charles was every
inch a king--magnificent in his hospitality, exceedingly ceremonious
and punctilious in court etiquette, and fond of showing his vast power
on every occasion. On the other hand, he was profoundly ignorant of
the fact that the real source of his wealth and strength was in the
great industrial communes of Flanders, Brabant and Liége, and the
cruelty with which he destroyed the cities of Liége and Dinant cost
him the affection and good will of all his people. His great
antagonist was Louis XI of France--also one of the most picturesque
figures in history--but the exact antithesis of Charles in almost
every respect. While Charles never received a delegation unless seated
on a throne, the loftiness and grandeur of which filled every eye,
Louis dressed plainly--often wearing the grey cloak of a pilgrim, and
almost invariably a pilgrim's hat, with a leaden image of some saint
in the hat-band. On one occasion, when he paid a visit to his subjects
in Normandy, riding in company with the gorgeous Duke of Burgundy, the
peasants exclaimed, "Is that a King of France? Why, the whole outfit,
man and horse, is not worth twenty francs!"

Charles, like his father, held his ducal court wherever he might
happen to be--both princes often carrying a lengthy train of baggage,
including even furniture and tapestries, from one castle to another.
Bruges, however, is identified with some of the most important events
of his career, and he held his court there much oftener than at the
ancestral capital of Burgundy, Dijon. During the last years of the
reign of his father, Philip the Good, Charles acted as Regent, and it
was during this period of his rule that he astonished and terrified
Europe by the ferocity with which he avenged an insult to his parents'
honour by utterly destroying the prosperous city of Dinant and
slaughtering most of its male inhabitants. On his accession to the
ducal throne, however, the great communes of Ghent, Bruges, Malines
and Brussels were able to extort from their new Duke all of the
privileges that his father had taken away during his long reign.
Charles granted these with fury in his heart, vowing openly that
before long he would humble these presumptuous burghers. Fortunately
for the liberties of the Flemish towns, their Duke's attentions were
speedily called elsewhere and he found no opportunity to carry out his
threats.

Fomented by the emissaries of Louis XI, the turbulent citizens of
Liége--already a large and prosperous manufacturing town, as advanced
in the metallurgical arts as the Flemish cities were in the textile
industries--rose in insurrection against their Bishop-Prince, an ally
of Charles. With an army of one hundred thousand feudal levies Charles
quickly suppressed this revolt. The following year Louis ventured to
place himself in Charles' power by paying him a visit at his powerful
castle of Péronne. This famous historical incident is brilliantly
described by Sir Walter Scott in _Quentin Durward_. To the king's
alarm and very extreme personal danger, the people of Liége took the
moment of this visit to rise again. Charles was furious, and, not
unjustly considering Louis to be the author of this attack on his
authority, had that monarch locked up in a room in the castle. Nor was
he placated until Louis signed a treaty still further extending the
power of the Dukes of Burgundy in France, and agreed to join Charles
in the expedition to punish his unruly subjects. This time the city
after being captured was given over to the half-savage Burgundian
soldiery to be sacked, some forty thousand of its inhabitants
perishing.

Returning to Flanders, Charles bitterly denounced the cautious policy
of the burghers in refusing to pay tax levies for his armies unless
they knew how the money was to be spent. "Heavy and hard Flemish heads
that you are," he cried to a delegation from Ghent, "you always remain
fixed in your bad opinions, but know that others are as wise as you.
You Flemings, with your hard heads, have always either despised or
hated your princes. I prefer being hated to being despised. Take care
to attempt nothing against my highness and lordship, for I am powerful
enough to resist you. It would be the story of the iron and the
earthen pots."

Presently Louis, repudiating the recent treaty as being extorted by
force, invaded Charles' dominions and captured several cities on the
Somme. Charles sought to retake them and was repulsed both at Amiens
and Beauvais, the defenders at the latter place being urged to
stronger resistance by Jeanne Hachette, one of the heroic figures of
French history. Charles now turned his attention to the German side of
his dominions, and here also the implacable enmity of Louis stirred up
enemies for him in every direction. In Alsace the people rose in
revolt and slew the cruel governor Charles had set over them, while
the Swiss defeated the Marshal of Burgundy. Charles set forth to
re-establish his authority with an army of thirty thousand men, the
flower of his feudal levies. The Swiss, alarmed, sued for peace,
assuring the powerful Duke that there was more gold in the spurs and
bridles of his horsemen than could be found in all of Switzerland.

Charles, however, was bent on punishing these impudent mountaineers
and ordered the invasion of their country. The defenders of the little
fortress of Granson surrendered on the approach of his army, but in
flagrant violation of the terms he had just granted the Duke of
Burgundy ordered the entire garrison to be hanged. This act was
speedily avenged, for the Swiss a few days later utterly routed the
Burgundian forces just outside of Granson. The mountaineers in this
battle advanced in a solid phalanx against which Charles' horsemen and
archers could make no impression. The blow to the pride and prestige
of the Duke was far more serious than the loss of the engagement and
the scattering of his army. With great difficulty he raised fresh
levies, the Flemish communes granting aid only on condition that no
further subsidies should be demanded for six years to come. The battle
of Granson took place March 2, 1476. By June he had raised another
and a larger army, and on the 22nd met the Swiss again at Morat. On
reviewing his host before the battle, Charles is said to have
exclaimed, "By St. George, we shall now have vengeance!" but the
vengeance was not to be always on one side, for the Swiss, making
their battle-cry "Granson! Granson!" in remembrance of their
countrymen, whom Charles had treacherously slain, almost annihilated
his army. The Swiss showed no mercy and took no prisoners, while the
number of killed on the Burgundian side amounted to eighteen thousand.
Charles escaped with his life, accompanied by a small body of his
knights.

For a time it seemed as if his rage and despair at these two defeats
would cause the proud Duke to lose his reason, nor could his threats
or entreaties secure more assistance from Flanders. He managed,
however, to keep the field, and with a small force sat down to besiege
Nancy--which had been lost to him again after Morat. The town held out
stubbornly, as all towns did, now that Charles' cruelty and treachery
to those who surrendered were known, and the Burgundian forces
suffered much hardship from the cold, for it was now mid-winter. On
January 5th Charles gave battle to an advancing force of Swiss, was
again crushed and the greater part of his little army killed. After
the battle the Duke could not be found, and no man knew what had
become of him. The following day a page reported that he had seen his
master fall, and could find the place. He led the searchers to a
little pond called the Etang de St. Jean. Here, by the border of a
little stream, they found a dozen despoiled bodies, naked and frozen
in the mud and ice. One by one they turned these over. "Alas," said
the little page presently, "here is my good master!" Disfigured, with
two fearful death wounds, and with part of his face eaten by wolves,
it was indeed the body of the great Duke.

Even his enemies did honour to the dead prince. Clothed in a robe of
white satin, with a crimson satin mantle, his body was borne in state
into the town he had vainly sought to conquer, and placed in a velvet
bed under a canopy of black satin. His remains were interred in the
church of St. George at Nancy, where they remained for more than fifty
years. The Emperor, Charles V, then had them brought to Bruges and
placed in the church of St. Donatian. His son, Philip II, removed
them, five years later, to the wonderful shrine in the Church of
Notre Dame where they remained until the French Revolution, when they
were scattered to the winds as the bones of a tyrant. The sarcophagus,
however, of the Duke and his gentle daughter, Marie, still remain, as
we have seen, and are among the finest in existence.

The death of the powerful Duke of Burgundy made a profound impression
throughout Europe, and still remains, as Mr. Boulger in his admirable
_History of Belgium_ says, "one of the tragedies of all history." His
downfall was mainly due to the implacable hostility of Louis XI, whom
he had once publicly humiliated at Péronne and affected at all times
to despise. Many of the Swiss and Germans who fought against him in
his last fatal campaign were hired mercenaries in the pay of the King
of France, while some of his most trusted followers and advisers were
traitors in constant correspondence with his wily and unscrupulous
antagonist. Had Charles sought to conciliate his great Flemish
communes instead of intimidate them his reign might have been
prolonged by their powerful aid, and his dream of establishing a
kingdom of Burgundy have been realised. As it was, he failed signally
in most of his undertakings, and with all his fury and vainglory and
cruelty lost in ten years the huge power that his father had taken
fifty years to accumulate.

Marie, Charles' only daughter, was left by his sudden and unexpected
death "the greatest heiress in Christendom," but also well-nigh
helpless to rule over or even hold her widespread dominions. To
prevent the King of France from taking advantage of this situation her
Flemish counsellors advised her to accept an offer of marriage from
Maximilian, son of the Emperor Frederick III, and in August of the
same year that saw the battle of Granson they were quietly married at
Bruges. This event made Flanders a still smaller unit than before in a
vast aggregation of states that in the course of events was being
combined under the rule of the House of Hapsburg, nor did Marie's
untimely death, less than five years later, in any wise delay the
process of consolidation.

Bruges, during the stormy reign of Charles the Bold and the quarter of
a century of anxiety and troubles for its burghers that followed after
the battle of Nancy, was steadily losing its population and material
prosperity, and, at the same time, acquiring its greatest claim to
fame--for it was between the year 1462 and 1491 that Memling, the
foremost of the early Flemish painters, executed the wonderful series
of masterpieces that have come down to us. And it is to Bruges that
the student of art must come to see the famous Fleming at his best,
for there are more of his important works here than in all the rest of
the world put together.

In common with many others in the early Gothic school very little is
known of the early life of Hans Memling, but the recent discovery in
an old manuscript of a note stating that he was born at or near
Mayence gives a most interesting clue both as to his birthplace and
the origin of his name. In the Rhineland district near Mayence there
is a small tributary to the great river called Memling, and a village
named Memlingen. It is probable, therefore, that--just as the brothers
Van Eyck called themselves Hubert and Jean of Eyck--so their most
famous successor called himself Hans of Memling. For lack of authentic
details regarding his early career legend has supplied a most
interesting history--that he was wild and dissolute in his younger
days, was wounded while fighting with Charles the Bold at Nancy,
dragged himself to the door of the hospital of St. Jean at Bruges, and
was there tenderly nursed back to health and strength, in gratitude
for which he painted for the kind sisters the little gallery of fine
works that are still preserved in the original chapter house of the
institution. All of this romance, and that of his love for one of the
sisters, makes a charming background for many of the accounts of his
life and work, but the painstaking scholarship of modern days has
shown that at the time when he was supposed to be lying wounded and
destitute at the hospital he was in fact very prosperous, having
lately bought the house in which he lived and his name appearing as
one of the leading citizens of whom the commune had borrowed money. It
is perhaps pleasanter on the whole to think of the artist as rich and
honoured instead of at the other extreme of the social scale--but the
legend is, after all, so much more romantic that we cannot give it up
without regret.

At Bruges the first spot for the admirer of Memling to visit is, of
course, the hospital of St. Jean, and at the hospital the first thing
to see is the world-famous shrine of St. Ursula. Little it is, yet
beyond price in value. It was constructed as a casket to contain the
relics of the Saint and was completed in 1489. In design it is a
miniature Gothic chapel two feet ten inches high and three feet
long, with three little panels on each side which contain Memling's
famous pictures setting forth the life and martyrdom of the Saint and
the eleven thousand other virgins who shared her fate. The story of
the famous pilgrimage to Rome and its melancholy ending at Cologne has
been told so often that it need not be repeated here. Ask one of the
sisters to tell it to you in her charming broken French--for they are
Flemish, these sweet-faced sisters, and, as a rule, understand neither
French nor English.

[Illustration: SHRINE OF ST. URSULA, HOSPITAL OF ST. JEAN, BRUGES.]

This fact is said to have served them in good stead on the terrible
day when the bandit-soldiery of the French Republic clamoured at the
doors of the hospital in 1494. "The shrine! the shrine!" they cried,
"give us the shrine!" ("_La châsse, la châsse, donnez nous la
châsse!_") The nuns, who had never heard it called by that name, but
knew it only by its Flemish name of _Ryve_, replied that they did not
possess such a thing as a _châsse_, and their voices and expressions
so clearly showed their truthfulness and innocence of any deceit that
the rabble of soldiers went away and the shrine was saved. Early in
the nineteenth century the Mother Superior refused a most tempting
offer to purchase the shrine, replying, "We are poor, but the
greatest riches in the world would not tempt us to part with it."

While the paintings on the shrine are the most famous of Memling's
works, they are not regarded by the critics as being his best. As Mr.
Rooses expresses it, "The artist seems to have been less intent on
perfection of detail for each figure than on the marvellous polychromy
of the whole." The hospital of St. Jean possesses three of the
master's greatest works--two triptychs entitled "The Marriage of St.
Catherine" and "The Adoration of the Magi," and the diptych
representing the Madonna and Martin Van Nieuwenhove. The museum at
Bruges contains still another masterpiece, a picture showing in the
centre St. Christopher, St. Maurus and St. Giles--the first bearing
the Infant Christ upon his shoulders--while the two shutters contain
the usual portraits of the donors. One of Memling's most important
works was a picture of "The Last Judgment" which was painted for an
Italian, Jacopo Tani, and placed on board ship to be sent to Florence
by sea. The ship was captured by privateers in the English Channel,
and as its owners were citizens of Dantzig it was presented by them to
the Church of Our Lady in that city, where it still remains. There
are several admirable works by this master at the museums of Brussels
and Antwerp, while others are scattered throughout Europe, and one
particularly fine example of his art was brought to America by the
late Benjamin Altman and now hangs in the Altman collection at the
Metropolitan Museum at New York.

While the chief interest to the visitor at the hospital of St. Jean is
the remarkable collection of works by Memling, the old buildings
themselves merit more than a casual glance. Some of them date from the
twelfth century, and the view looking back at the ancient waterfront
from the bridge by which the rue St. Catherine here crosses the river
is particularly picturesque. The old brick structures go down to the
very water's edge, and sometimes below it, and the entire pile from
this side must look much as it did in Memling's day.

Another artist whose work sheds lustre on the old town of Bruges was
Gheerhardt David. For nearly four centuries his name and even his very
existence were forgotten, his paintings being attributed to
Memling--in itself a high evidence of their merit. Recent studies by
James Weale and other scholars have given us quite a complete life of
this artist, who lived between 1460 and 1523, and a number of his
works have been identified. All of these seem to have been painted at
Bruges, and some of the more notable ones still remain there. The
municipal authorities commissioned him to paint two great pictures
representing notable examples of justice such as Van der Weyden had
done for the Hotel de Ville at Brussels. These depict the flaying
alive of the unjust Judge Sisamnes by Cambyses, King of Persia, and
are still preserved in the museum at Bruges. The museum also possesses
another masterpiece by this artist, "The Baptism of Christ." Others
that have been identified through painstaking study of the old
archives of the city and contemporary sources are located in the
National Gallery at London and in the museum of Rouen.

The prosperity of Bruges was declining very fast while David was
painting the last of his religious pictures and the merchants were
steadily leaving the city for Antwerp, which was now rising into
importance. The artists, whose prosperity depended upon the wealth of
the burghers were also drifting to the new commercial metropolis on
the Scheldt and the famous school of Bruges was near its end by the
middle of the sixteenth century. The last artists who worked at
Bruges were of minor interest. Adriaen Ysenbrant, Albert Cornelis and
Jean Prévost belong to this period, and their most important works are
still preserved in the city where they were executed. "The Virgin of
the Seven Sorrows," in the church of Notre Dame, is attributed to the
first, a triptych in the church of St. Jacques to the second, while
the museum has several pictures by Prévost, including an interesting
"Last Judgment," and another striking representation of the same
subject by Pieter Pourbus, of which there is a copy in the Palais du
Franc. The masterpieces by Jean Van Eyck in this museum have already
been mentioned, and the small but exceedingly rich collection also
includes a fine production entitled "The Death of the Virgin," which
is now generally attributed to Hugo Van der Goes--one of the
comparatively few works by that master that have come down to us.
There are also several other works by P. Pourbus, and a powerful
allegorical picture by Jean Prévost representing Avarice and Death.
There is undoubtedly no collection of paintings in the world of which
the average value is so great as that of the little group in the
hospital of St. Jean, and the one in the Bruges museum--while it has
quite a few of minor interest and value--would also bring a very high
average if subjected to the bidding of the world's millionaire art
lovers.

[Illustration: _An Illumination by Gheerhardt David of Bruges, 1498;
St. Barbara_]

Bruges possesses another museum of great interest which dates from the
days of the last Dukes of Burgundy. This is the Gruuthuise mansion, of
which the oldest wing was built in 1420, and much of the finer portion
about 1470 by Louis, or Lodewyk, Van der Gruuthuise, who here
entertained Charles the Bold and his pretty daughter--becoming one of
the latter's chief advisers on the death of her father and one of the
two Flemish noblemen who witnessed her marriage. The stately old
palace is therefore rich with historic associations. As we entered its
broad courtyard, however, we were most unfavourably impressed by its
rough-paved surface with the grass growing thick between the stones.
Surely this must have looked very different in the days when knights
and fair ladies swarmed here like bees, and the city, which has so
carefully restored everything else, would do well to at least park
this otherwise very pretty little enclosure. The interior is both
pleasing and disappointing. The edifice itself is superb as a survival
of a nobleman's palace of the fifteenth century, and as an example of
Flemish interior architecture. The grand stone staircase, the massive
fireplaces, also in white stone, and one or two of the rooms in their
entirety give a fine impression of the splendour of the establishment
maintained by the great Lord of Gruuthuise in the days when he counted
King Edward IV of England and Richard Crookback among his guests, and
was engaged in collecting the marvellous library now in Paris.
Everywhere, over the fireplaces, and in various stone carvings, one
reads the proud motto of the powerful builders of this palace, _Plus
est en nous_.

When the palace was in course of restoration some years ago the
workmen uncovered a secret chamber behind the great stone fireplace in
the kitchen, concealed within the masonry of the huge chimney, and
within it the skeleton of a man. A secret staircase was also
discovered here which led to two underground passages branching off in
opposite directions. Strangely enough neither of them has ever been
explored, but one is supposed to lead to the vaults beneath the
adjoining church of Notre Dame, and the other to some point outside
the city walls. Some have conjectured that it leads to the Château of
Maele, some four miles distant, but probably it went to the manor of
the Lords of Gruuthuise at Oostcamp. Within this mansion a modern Sir
Walter Scott could easily conjure forth a new series of Waverley
novels treating of the stirring days when Bruges was virtually the
capital of Flanders and Flanders was the brightest jewel in the
Burgundian crown.

All this is most fascinating, and, as far as it goes, helps us to
reconstruct in fancy the great days of the past. The disappointing
feature about the palace is the museum itself, which, although
interesting and valuable, utterly spoils many of the fine rooms by
converting them into mere exhibition places. In a measure the
authorities have followed the admirable plan of the owners of the
Hotel Merghelynck at Ypres, and the immense kitchen, for example,
contains only kitchen utensils of the Middle Ages--a most complete and
interesting collection. The same is also true of the large dining-room
on the same floor, but as one proceeds farther the atmosphere of
antiquity becomes lost and it is all nothing but museum. The palace
contains a splendid collection of old lace, the gift of the Baroness
Liedts, but it seemed to us that it would have been much better to
have housed this and the various collections of antiquities in some
less famous and historic structure and endeavoured to restore all of
these rooms to approximately their condition when Charles the Bold
stalked through them.

The period of Philip the Good and his terrible son was the one in
which mediæval Bruges took on substantially its present form. In
addition to the Gruuthuise Palace scores of important edifices, public
and private, were built or rebuilt at this time, while hundreds of
smaller houses were constructed--of which many remain in existence
to-day. The greatest and most famous edifice dating in large part from
this epoch is the cathedral of St. Sauveur whose grim, castle-like
tower dominates the entire city. The lowest part of the tower dates
from 1116-1127--as already related in the chapter on Bruges under
Charles the Good--when the church was rebuilt after a fire that
destroyed the primitive structure erected on the site a century or
more earlier. Between 1250 and 1346, or for almost a century, the men
of Bruges were slowly piling up a noble church in the early Gothic
style, but another fire in 1358 necessitated rebuilding the nave and
transept--a task which occupied the next ten or fifteen years. In 1480
work was begun upon the five chapels of the choir and nine years later
the Pope, Innocent VIII, granted a special Bull of Indulgence in
favour of benefactors of this work, which appears to have been delayed
for lack of funds. Work of various kinds was continued until the
middle of the sixteenth century, but, in the main, the great church
was nearly as we see it now by the year 1511. The upper part of the
tower is comparatively modern, dating from 1846, and the spire from
1871. While it has been criticised by some as ungainly and cumbrous,
the effect of this tower, from whatever angle it may be viewed, is
very pleasing. The high lights and shadows on a sunny morning, or late
in the afternoon, make it far more beautiful than its sister of Notre
Dame, while against the grey cloud masses of a typical Flemish sky its
huge tawny mass stands out sharp and clear, the embodiment of majesty
and strength.

The interior of the church is very large, measuring three hundred and
thirty-one feet by one hundred and twenty-five feet, with an extreme
width of one hundred and seventy-four feet across the transepts. Its
polychrome decorations and stained glass windows are modern. In
another place the wealth of art treasures in this church would merit a
chapter, but in Bruges they are so overshadowed by the many
masterpieces to be seen elsewhere that we felt somewhat satiated
after such a feast and spent very little time looking at the pictures
here. The most famous one is a "Martyrdom of St. Hippolytus," by
Dierick Bouts, which is interesting because so few examples of this
primitive master are in existence. It is a triptych, the central panel
showing the saint about to be torn to pieces by wild horses, on the
left an incident in the life of the saint, and on the right the
donors. The last picture has been attributed by many critics to Hugo
Van der Goes, and for many years the entire picture was thought to be
the work of Memling. Bouts delighted in unpleasant subjects, which he
depicted with great realism.

[Illustration: "THE LAST SUPPER."--THIERRY BOUTS.]

Dierick, or Thierry, Bouts settled at Louvain about the middle of the
fifteenth century. Beyond the fact that he came from Haarlem nothing
is known of his early life and training, but as Van der Weyden of
Tournai had done some important work at Louvain it is likely that
Bouts may have derived some of his inspiration from studying the
methods of that master. He was a contemporary of Memling. Two of his
paintings, "The Last Supper" and the gruesome "Martyrdom of St.
Erasmus," were executed for the wealthy brotherhood of the Holy
Sacrament and were hung in the church of St. Peter.[2] Bouts became
the official painter for the city of Louvain and produced a "Last
Judgment" for the hall of the échevins which has since been lost, and
two panels for the council-room of the Hotel de Ville representing
"The Judgment of Otho." These are now in the museum at Brussels. The
Queen having accused an earl of offending her honour, the latter is
decapitated. The head is then given to his Countess, together with a
glowing bar of iron. In the second panel she is shown triumphantly
holding both, the hot iron refusing to burn her and thereby
vindicating her husband's innocence. The result of the ordeal is shown
in the distance where the false Queen is being executed at the stake.
These pictures were ordered, in imitation of those painted by Van der
Weyden for the Hotel de Ville at Brussels, as part of a series of
panels designed to instill the love of virtue and justice into the
minds of the magistrates and people. The artist's death prevented his
completing two other panels that the archives of Louvain show had been
ordered. Besides this "Martyrdom of St. Hippolytus" a comparatively
small number of other works from his brush are listed in the
catalogues of various European museums.

[Footnote 2: They were probably destroyed during the burning of
Louvain by the Germans.]

Of the other structures in Bruges of to-day there are a score that
merit a visit from those who are interested in the city's splendid
past, and that date for the most part from the last years of the
Burgundian period. In the rue des Aiguilles there still exists a
fragment of the Hotel Bladelin, the town house of Peter Bladelin, who
was for many years Controller-General of Finance, Treasurer of the
Order of the Golden Fleece, and the trusted agent of the Dukes in all
manner of business and private affairs. Peter subsequently built the
town of Middleburg, for the church in which Van der Weyden painted one
of his most famous pictures. The Ghistelhof in the same street also
dates from this epoch, and was built by the Lords of Ghistelle. Then
there is the Hotel d'Adornes and the church of Jerusalem, which was
formerly the private chapel of the rich brothers Anselm and John
Adornes. There is still a fine mediæval atmosphere lingering about
this group of buildings, although much altered from what they were in
their prime. The church itself is most curious, and beneath the choir
is a crypt that leads to a reproduction of the Holy Sepulchre, said to
be a facsimile of the one in the garden of Joseph of Arimathea. It
would take a volume to cite all of the fine old structures of which
traces still exist in this, the most picturesque of all the Flemish
cities. The reader who desires to find them all cannot do better than
to take Ernest Gilliat-Smith's brilliant _Story of Bruges_ with him
and look for them, one by one. For those who cannot devote a week or
more to this delightful task a quicker way to see the Bruges of
Charles the Bold is to stroll slowly along the Quai Vert, the Quai des
Marbriers and the Quai du Rosaire and let the beautiful vistas of the
Vieux Bourg with its quaint red roofs and noble towers become engraved
upon the memory, for here, more completely than anywhere else, one can
see the Bruges of the past much as it looked in the day of its
greatest splendour when it was about to sink into its long sleep.

Thus far Bruges has not suffered seriously from the war, and it is
profoundly to be hoped that no bombardment such as crumbled its fair
neighbour Termonde into utter ruin will create similar havoc amid
these indescribably beautiful scenes. A few hours would suffice to
destroy artistic and architectural treasures of a value that would
make the destruction of Louvain seem of little consequence in
comparison.

[Illustration: QUAI VERT, BRUGES.]

CHAPTER XV

MALINES IN THE TIME OF MARGARET OF AUSTRIA

Since this chapter was written the ill-fated city of Malines has been
swept with shot and shell for many days together, its once happy and
prosperous inhabitants driven far and wide--many of them into foreign
lands--and it is doubtful if a single one of the various ancient
edifices which we visited last June has escaped injury.
Notwithstanding these sad facts it has seemed best to retain the
chapter substantially as it was written, inasmuch as it affords a pen
picture of the old town as it looked on the very eve of its
destruction. Let us hope that when the war is over it will be found
that most, if not all, of its famous old structures can be restored
again. As the scene of some of the most stubborn conflicts of the
great war, it is likely that the city will be more generally visited
by tourists than was the case when its architectural and artistic
treasures were uninjured, save by the gentle hand of time. To those
who thus visit it the following account of the Malines that was may
prove interesting.

Situated midway between Antwerp and Brussels, on a route formerly
traversed by scores of _rapides_ every day, the ancient city of
Malines--which is the French spelling, the Flemish being Mechelen--was
exceptionally easy to visit, yet during the three days that we spent
wandering along its entrancing old quays and streets and inspecting
its many "monuments" we saw not a single tourist. This was the more
remarkable because Malines is not only one of the very oldest cities
in Northern Europe, but was for centuries among the most famous. For a
considerable period it was the capital of all the Netherlands, and it
is still the religious capital of Belgium--the archbishop of its
cathedral church exercising authority over the bishops of Bruges,
Ghent, Liége, Namur and Tournai.

No matter from which side one approaches the city the first object to
be seen is the vast square tower of the Cathedral of St. Rombaut, and
as this huge structure--the eighth wonder of the world, according to
Vauban--dominates the town, so the church itself has dominated the
history of the city on the River Dyle for more than eleven
centuries. According to tradition St. Rombaut, or Rombold, to use the
English spelling, sought to convert the savage tribes inhabiting the
marshes that extended along the river about the middle of the eighth
century, the date of his martyrdom being placed at 775. A Benedictine
abbey was shortly afterwards established near his tomb, which steadily
grew in importance and power until by the twelfth century it had
become one of the most important religious institutions in the region.
During the thirteenth century the prince-bishops of Malines became the
virtual sovereigns of the city, one of them--Gauthier Berthout,
sometimes called the Great--defeating the Duke of Gueldre, who
attempted in 1267 to assert his authority over that of the prelate. At
this period many of the religious institutions of Malines were
established under the patronage of Gauthier Berthout and his
successors.

[Illustration: CATHEDRAL OF ST. ROMBAUT. MALINES.]

Meanwhile the comparative immunity of the city from the ravages of the
wars that so often raged at that period between the various feudal
lords of the region caused great numbers of artisans to settle there,
particularly weavers, while the cloth merchants' guild came to be
recognised as entitled to a voice in the civil affairs of the
commune. Ships, according to the chronicles, came up the River Dyle in
such numbers as to make the commercial activity of the town rival that
of Antwerp--a statement that is hard to believe when one gazes at the
tiny River Dyle of to-day. However, the ships in those days were very
small, and the river, like so many others in Belgium, was no doubt
broader then than it is now that the marshes have all been drained.
The weavers and other artisans were a turbulent lot, and it soon
became evident that the bishops lacked the power to hold them in
check.

This led to a series of alienations of the temporal power over the
commune to neighbouring princes whose armies were strong enough to
keep the unruly burghers in restraint. The first of these was effected
in the year 1300 between the prince-bishop, Jean Berthout, and Jean
II, Duke of Brabant. In 1303 the news of the great victory gained over
the nobility by the Flemish communes at Courtrai caused the citizens
to revolt against their new master, the Duke, who besieged the city
and finally reduced it by starvation. Until this time the Dyle had
never been bridged, its waters flowing over a broad marshy bed. This
made the siege the more difficult as the attacking forces were
separated by the river, and it was five months before the sturdy
burghers yielded. To this day an annual procession, called the
_peysprocessie_, perpetuates the memory of this famous siege.

During the next half century the civil authority over the city became
a veritable shuttlecock of politics and war, shifting back and forth
between the Dukes of Brabant and the Counts of Flanders. It was bought
and sold like a parcel of real estate, but eventually rested with the
Counts of Flanders, who had first acquired it by purchase in 1333, and
were finally left in undisputed possession by a treaty signed in 1357.
Four years later a violent insurrection of the weavers and other
artisans broke out that was only mastered after the city had been in
their possession fifteen days, but with the advent of the Dukes of
Burgundy to the supreme power over all of Flanders, Brabant, Hainaut
and Holland, the unruly workmen were no longer strong enough to resist
these redoubtable princes. Great numbers of them emigrated to other
cities, and the cloth industry, after languishing for a time, finally
disappeared.

Like most Flemish towns, Malines has its principal railway station
located on its very outskirts, and as far as possible from the Grande
Place. A tram car was standing in front of the station on the morning
of our first visit, but it seemed that it did not start for ten
minutes. A score of roomy two-seated carriages invited our patronage,
but we valiantly decided to walk. We soon regretted our decision as
the walk proved to be long and hot, with very little of interest to
see, as the houses in this part of the town are comparatively modern.
At the bridge across the Dyle we paused for a few moments to admire
the fine views that can here be had of the old Church Notre Dame au
delà de la Dyle to the westward and the equally picturesque Notre Dame
d'Hanswyck to the eastward. Just beyond the river is the entrance to
the Botanical Gardens, and as our first visit chanced to be on a
Friday we walked in unmolested and enjoyed the welcome shade and the
beautiful landscape effects of this charming little park. Later on we
learned that Friday is the only week-day on which admission is free, a
fee of ten cents being exacted on other days.

As is the case in most Belgian cities, the street from the station to
the heart of the town, although continuous and straight, changes its
name more than once. At the outset it is the rue Conscience, then the
rue d'Egmont, and from the bridge across the Dyle to the Grande Place
it is named Bruul. Entering the Place from this side we paused to
admire the tremendous tower of the cathedral which here burst upon us
in all its majestic grandeur, although the edifice is situated a
little to the west of the Place itself. In front of us, on the right,
was a singularly dilapidated ruin, which we learned was the old Cloth
Hall. Part of it is used as a police station, part is vacant with its
window openings devoid of sashes or glass staring blankly at the sky,
while part is devoted to housing a small museum of municipal
antiquities. The first Cloth Hall at Malines was destroyed by fire in
1342, and the new one that was begun to replace it was never finished,
owing to the ruin of the cloth industry during the struggles between
the artisans and their overlords, and a belfry which it was proposed
to erect similar to that at Bruges was never begun. The museum
contains a number of pictures by Malines artists, of historical rather
than artistic interest, a "Christ on the Cross," by Rubens, and a
variety of relics of the city's famous past. Curiously enough, there
is not a single piece of lace in the collection, nor anything to
represent the great cloth weaving industry--the two branches of
manufacture to which the city owes so much of its former wealth and
fame.

Adjoining the _Halle aux Draps_ to the north is a fine modern
post-office built from designs drawn by the great Malines architect of
the sixteenth century, Rombaut Keldermans, for a new Hotel de Ville,
which was never built. Unfortunately its principal façade overlooks
the narrow rue de Beffer instead of the Grande Place, and its
beautiful details cannot be seen as effectively as could be desired.
In the Vieux Palais, the ancient "Schepenhuis," or house of the
bailiffs, situated a little south of the Place, we were shown the
original design by Keldermans. It is kept in a sliding panel on the
wall and, although somewhat dim with age, can still be studied in
detail. The modern architects of the post-office have reverently
followed the plans of the great master so that at least this one of
his many brilliant architectural dreams has come true, and now stands
carved in imperishable stone just as his genius conceived it nearly
four centuries ago.

To the ancestor of this architect, Jean Keldermans, is generally
attributed the honour of designing the tower of St. Rombaut, the
architectural glory of Malines and one of the most magnificent
structures of the kind in the world. There are a thousand places
throughout the city where the photographer or painter can obtain
attractive views of this masterpiece, but perhaps the best of all is
from a point some distance down the Ruelle sans Fin (Little Street
without End) where a quaint mediæval house forms an arch across the
narrow street, while behind and far above it rises the majestic tower.
From whatever standpoint one regards the great tower, whether gazing
up at its vast bulk from directly beneath--a point of view that the
camera cannot reproduce--or from any of the little streets that
radiate away from it, its grandeur and beauty are equally impressive.

[Illustration: TOWER OF THE CATHEDRAL OF ST. ROMBAUT FROM THE RUELLE
SANS FIN.]

Begun in 1452, work on the great tower advanced slowly. In 1468,
according to a memorial tablet near the southern side of the tower,
Gauthier Coolman was buried there. It was the custom in the Middle
Ages to thus recognise the _magister operis_, or creator of the work,
but it is generally acknowledged that Jean Keldermans is entitled to
share in the credit for this achievement. Jean was the first in a
family of famous architects, his brothers André, Mathieu and Antoine
I, following the same profession, and their skill being handed down
to later generations, of whom the most famous were Antoine II, Rombaut
and Laurent. At the beginning of the sixteenth century work on the
great tower was stopped, owing to lack of funds, after attaining a
height of three hundred and eighteen feet. The plans, of which
sketches are still preserved at Brussels, called for carrying the
spire upward to a total height of five hundred and fifty feet, and in
the ambulatory of the cathedral we found a plaster cast showing the
spire as it was proposed to erect it. The stones to complete the work
were already cut and brought to Malines, but were carried away between
1582 and 1584 by the Prince of Orange to build the town of
Willemstadt. Apart from its height, this tower is remarkable for its
great bulk, measuring no less than twenty-five metres in diameter at
the base.

On each side for most of its height the architect designed a series of
lofty Gothic windows. Of these the lowest are filled in with masonry,
except for a tiny window in the centre. In the higher ones stone
blinds fill in the openings, while the topmost pair are wide open to
the sky. The well-known legend about the over-excitable citizen of
Malines who cried "Fire!" one night after seeing the full moon
through these windows gave the people of the town for many years the
nickname of _Maanblusschers_, or moon extinguishers, and also gave
rise to the slur in the last three words of the following Latin
distich in which an old monkish poet compares the six chief cities of
Belgium:

_Nobilibus Bruxella viris, Antwerpia Nummis,
Gandavum laqueis, formosis Bruga puellis,
Lovanium doctis, gaudet Mechlinia stultis._

Brussels is renowned for its noble men, Antwerp for its money,
Ghent for its halters, Bruges for its pretty girls,
Louvain for its scholars, Malines (Mechelen) for its fools.

This seems rather hard on Malines, and also on Ghent, the allusion to
that city referring to numerous occasions when its sovereigns humbled
the burghers by forcing them to plead for mercy with halters around
their necks.

On the outside of the tower, close to its present summit, is a clock
the face of which is claimed to be the largest in the world. As the
same claim is made for the great clock on an industrial establishment
in Jersey City I will simply give the dimensions of the one at Malines
and let those interested make the comparison for themselves: Diameter
of face, 13.5 metres; circumference, 41 metres; length of hour hand,
3.62 metres; height of figures, 1.96 metres. The minute hands were
originally 4.25 metres long, but are missing on all four sides. This
renders the time-piece hardly one to be consulted if one is catching a
train, as the exact minute can only be estimated from the position of
the hour hand. Furthermore, the gilding on the hour hands and on most
of the figures has become so dim that only the strongest eyes can
distinguish the former, and some of the latter can only be made out
from their position. As the city appeared to be exceedingly proud of
the size of this clock it seemed strange that the authorities did not
authorise the expenditure of the small sum necessary to re-gild it.

It is a hard climb to the top of the tower, but one well worth making,
not only for the fine panorama of the city that unfolds itself wider
and wider as one mounts higher, but for the opportunity thus afforded
of seeing the fine _carillon_, or set of chimes, and the curious
mechanism operating the clappers that strike the hours. Just before
reaching the floor upon which these are placed the guide conducts the
visitor to a trap door from which one can look down into the interior
of the cathedral--a thrilling experience to be enjoyed only by those
who are not inclined to be dizzy. The massive timber work supporting
the huge bells was constructed in 1662, but the oldest of the bells
dates from 1498, or six years after the discovery of America. The two
biggest bells are named Salvator and Charles, of which the larger one
weighs 8,884 kilos, or more than nine tons, and requires twelve men to
ring it. There are four other big bells and forty-five for the entire
_carillon_, most of which were cast by Pierre Hémony of Amsterdam, the
Stradivarius of bell founders, in 1674. Altogether they form four
octaves, the giants chiming in with the others as the music demands.
The keyboard which operates the little hammers is operated by both
hand and foot power, and the _carillonneur_ who operates it is worthy
of the splendid instrument at his command, being Josef Denyn, the son
of an equally famous _carillonneur_, and reputed to be the finest in
Europe. M. Denyn not only gives frequent concerts at Malines, but also
at Antwerp and Bruges, as well as in many European cities outside of
Belgium.

We made a special trip to Malines one Monday afternoon in June solely
to listen to one of these concerts, which takes place on that day
between eight and nine in the evening, during the months of June,
August and September. The sleepy old town was thronged with
automobiles, for the renown of these famous concerts has spread far
and wide, and some of the cars, we were told, had come from points as
far away as Ostende, Blankenburghe and Heyst, while scores were from
Antwerp and Brussels. The crowd gathered quietly in the streets
surrounding the great tower and a great silence seemed to pervade the
entire city as the hour of eight approached. Then, faint and far at
first, came the first dulcet tones from this great organ of the sky,
until--as the music swelled and more of the larger bells began to
blend their notes in the harmony--the very air seemed vibrant with
celestial sounds. The selection, as we afterwards learned, was one of
the _Volksliederen_, or pieces of folk music for the rendition of
which M. Denyn is famous. As we listened we realised as never before
the part the ancient _carillon_ was meant to take in the daily life of
the people. It is, in truth, as a French author has beautifully
expressed it, the orchestra of the poor, giving expression through its
wondrous notes to their joys and their sorrows. On the occasion of
great fêtes its music is light and gay, in attune with the popular
rejoicing; in times of public grief the _carillon_ gives utterance to
notes of lamentation; when a famous citizen is being borne to his last
resting-place through the streets lined with silent mourners the
_carillon_ sends the deep notes of its funeral dirges across the city;
in time of war or sudden danger the great bells roar the wild tocsin
of alarm; in time of peace their softest notes breathe a sweet prayer
of peace and benediction at eventide.

While we were visiting the tower we were shown the _tambour_ cast in
copper by means of which the clock strikes the hours, the half hours
and the quarters. This was cast in 1783, and two years were required
to make the sixteen thousand, two hundred square holes into which drop
the teeth that actuate the striking hammers.

The interior of St. Rombaut, while majestic and imposing, is hardly as
masterly as the tower. On the occasion of our first visit a high mass
was being celebrated and we reverently joined the throng of
worshippers. In addition to the choir there was a body of some two
hundred young men in the centre of the cathedral who participated in
the singing, a curé beating time for them. Their strong manly voices
blended finely with the higher notes of the distant choir boys and
the deep tones of the organ. From the top of the choir long crimson
streamers were suspended, terminating at the back of the high altar
and giving a rich note of colour to the interior, while the light from
the stained glass windows overhead poured downward in many-coloured
rays upon the throng of black-robed priests, with a sprinkling of
higher dignitaries clad in purple. Truly a picture that filled the eye
with the pageantry of religion, even as the rolling notes of the
sonorous chants filled the ear!

After the service was over, and the great cathedral, but now so
crowded, was deserted, we started on our tour of inspection. It would
be a tedious task to chronicle all of the objects of interest. The
carved stalls of the Gothic choir are far less elaborate in
workmanship than those at Amiens. The altar by Faid'herbe, a native of
Malines, is imposing, but not of remarkable merit. The carved pulpit
in the nave, however, is a veritable masterpiece of wood carving by
Michel Van der Voort of Antwerp, and dates from 1723. Below, St.
Norbert is shown flung from his horse by a thunderbolt, above is the
Crucifixion at the left, with the Virgin and St. John standing below
the cross, while at the right is shown a charming representation of
the Fall, with Eve offering the apple to Adam, both figures embowered
in a mass of foliage that twines up the stairway to the pulpit and
lifts its branches far overhead. The masterpiece of the paintings is
an altarpiece by Van Dyck representing the Crucifixion, a notable
representation of the gradations of grief in the faces of the Virgin
and Mary Magdalen. The attendant requires a franc to uncover this
picture. "The Adoration of the Shepherds," by Erasmus Quellen, in the
opposite arm of the transept, while less famous, is a noble piece of
work.

As would be expected from its great religious importance, Malines has
numerous minor churches that contain much of interest to the visitor.
The largest of these is Notre Dame au delà de la Dyle, situated across
the River Dyle from the oldest part of the city, but dating from the
fifteenth century. Here the tourist usually asks to see "The
Miraculous Draught of Fishes," by Rubens, a highly coloured triptych
that is only uncovered when one pays a franc to the attendant. As this
master produced some seventeen hundred known works it would cost a
small fortune to see them all at a franc apiece, but this one dates
from the artist's best period and is fully worth the price charged to
see it. It is vigorous in treatment, and the Fishmongers' Guild, which
purchased it from the artist in 1618 for sixteen hundred florins,
certainly got very good value for their money. The wings are painted
on both sides. This church also contains the curious Virgin with the
Broken Back. According to the popular legend her sharp leaning to the
right is due to the fact that one day, when the sacristan of the
church failed to wake up in time to ring the angelus the lady
obligingly did it for him, but wrenched her spine in the effort. Her
smug smirk of satisfaction, as if over a duty well performed, no doubt
also dates from the same incident.

Hardly less interesting is the ancient church of Notre Dame
d'Hanswyck, situated on the same side of the Dyle as the other Notre
Dame just described. A chapel was erected on the site of this church
soon after the country was converted from paganism by St. Rombaut, and
a large church was built near the end of the thirteenth century. This,
however, was pillaged by the iconoclasts in 1566, riddled by shot from
the cannon of the Prince of Orange in 1572, and finally completely
demolished eight or nine years later by the Gueux. It was not until
1663 that the present edifice was begun. It was designed by Luke
Faid'herbe, the famous sculptor of Malines and a pupil of Rubens, and
was built under his personal supervision. The church itself is a
veritable museum of the works of this master. The finest and most
famous of these are the two bas-reliefs in the dome, one showing "The
Nativity," and the other "The Saviour Falling Under the Burden of the
Cross." The pulpit, by Theodore Verhaegen, is a fine example of
Flemish wood carving. In this church the chief treasure, from the
standpoint of its priests and parishioners, is the miraculous statue
of the Virgin, which dates from 988, or earlier, according to some
authorities. It is made of wood, painted and gilded, and is life size.
Not the least miraculous feat of this interesting relic of the Middle
Ages is its escape from destruction, at the hands of the iconoclasts,
the Gueux, and the French revolutionists. At the period when the
church itself was destroyed the statue was hidden in a secret
subterranean passage for nearly a century; during the French
Revolution it was successively lodged in various houses in the rue
d'Hanswyck--each time being replaced in the church, after the danger
was over, amid great popular rejoicing.

Another church that is a small art gallery is that of St. Jean, not
far from the cathedral. Here is the fine "Adoration of the Magi," by
Rubens, which many critics consider one of the four best of his
ceremonial works. It was painted in 1617, the year before "The
Miraculous Draught of Fishes," at Notre Dame de la Dyle, when the
artist was fresh from his studies in Italy, and before his success had
caused him to employ a throng of students to assist in the production
of his works. Furthermore, it was executed for this very church, which
still possesses his receipt for the final payment, written in Flemish,
dated March 24, 1624, and signed by the artist, "Pietro Paulo Rubens."
The price was eighteen hundred florins, but for good measure the
church obtained three small paintings by the great master to be hung
below the triptych. In 1794 these pictures were taken to Paris and the
"Adoration of the Magi" was not restored to its original position
until after the fall of Napoleon. Two of the small pictures, "The
Adoration of the Shepherds" and "The Resurrection," are now in the
museum of Marseilles--having never been returned--while the third,
"Christ on the Cross," after changing hands several times, was at last
purchased by an amateur who recognised its authorship and history and
restored it to the church of St. Jean. The two little pictures on
either side of it, often attributed to Rubens, are by Luc Franchoys
the younger. This church also boasts some marvellous Flemish wood
carvings. Around the two pillars of the transept where it intersects
the nave are some bas-reliefs, six altogether, by Theodore Verhaegen
and his pupils, that if there was nothing else to see would alone
justify a visit to St. Jean, while the pulpit by the same master,
representing "The Good Shepherd Preaching to His People," is one of
the most noteworthy of the numerous examples of pulpit carving to be
seen in Flanders. Below the organ are two more admirable bas-reliefs
carved in Flemish oak by Pierre Valckx, a pupil of Verhaegen.

Of the many other churches in the old town it would be tedious to
speak. Nowhere in all Flanders did we see so many black-robed priests
walking solemnly about--although they do not lack in any part of the
country. All Belgium, in fact, is full of priests, monks and nuns,
owing to the expulsion of the religious orders from France some years
ago. We frequently engaged them in conversation to ascertain more
about the monuments we were visiting and invariably found them
courteous and well-informed, and not infrequently we were indebted to
them for suggestions or information of much value. At the same time,
it must be said that it seems to a layman as though there are far too
many for so small a country, but their fine spirit of devotion during
the war--when thousands of them shared cheerfully the hardships of the
soldiers--will never be forgotten.

Of the civil edifices in Malines the most important is the Hotel de
Ville. Architecturally it is disappointing, save for the older
portion, which was called Beyaerd, and was purchased by the commune in
1383. The greater part of the edifice was reconstructed during the
eighteenth century. The many rooms in the interior are pleasing but
hardly notable, nor are the paintings and sculptures important save to
the historian. In the Vieux Palais, the room in which the Great
Council of the Netherlands held its sessions from 1474 to 1618, is
still preserved in its original state, while one of the ancient
paintings on the wall shows the Council in session. In this building
also is the curious statuette of the Vuyle Bruydegom called
"Op-Signorken," whose grinning face and quaint mediæval costume are
reproduced on many postcards. The history of this worthy is best
told in French--and in whispers!

[Illustration: _IN HET PARADIJS_ AND _MAISON DES DIABLES_: TWO
FIFTEENTH CENTURY HOUSES, MALINES.]

In our tramps around the narrow, crooked streets of the old town, and
along its picturesque quays, we found many fine examples of fifteenth
and sixteenth century architecture. On the Quai au Sel is the House of
the Salmon, the ancient guildhouse of the fishmongers, which dates
from 1530, and on the Quai aux Avoines we visited the little estaminet
entitled _In het Paradijs_, with its two painted reliefs of the Fall
and Expulsion from Eden, and the _Maison des Diables_--so called from
the carved devils that decorate its wooden façade of the sixteenth
century. The Grand Pont across the Dyle to these old quays itself
dates from the thirteenth century, as its grimy arches testify.

After the defeat and death of Charles the Bold at Nancy his widow,
Margaret of York, transferred her residence to Malines, and here she
raised and educated the two children of her daughter, Marie of
Burgundy, Philip the Handsome and Margaret of Austria. Their father,
the Emperor Maximilian, was so occupied with affairs of state over his
widely scattered realm that he seldom came to the city, but from 1480
onward the States General of the Netherlands often met here, and in
1491 Philip the Handsome presided at a chapter of the Order of the
Golden Fleece at the cathedral of St. Rombaut. On his premature death,
in 1506, Maximilian again became Regent, as Philip's eldest son
Charles was barely six years old. The following year Maximilian made
his daughter Margaret of Austria Governess-General of the Netherlands
and guardian of Philip's children. Margaret at once chose Malines,
where she had herself been educated, as her seat of government and
there she reigned as Regent until her death twenty-three years later.
This period was the golden age in the history of the city on the Dyle,
its brief day of splendour.

In her infancy Margaret had been betrothed to the son of the King of
France, Louis XI--the cunning enemy of her house whose plots had
brought about the ruin of her grandfather, Charles the Bold. She was
only three, and the Prince Dauphin, afterwards Charles the Eighth, was
only twelve. Nine years later a more advantageous alliance caused him
to renounce this betrothal, and Margaret was subsequently married by
proxy to the son of the King of Spain. On her voyage from Flushing to
Spain a storm arose which nearly wrecked her ship, and after it had
somewhat subsided she and her companions amused themselves by each
writing her own epitaph. That composed by Margaret, then a sprightly
girl of eighteen, is well known:

_Cy gist Margot la gentil' Damoiselle,
Qu' ha deux marys et encor est pucelle._

Eventually, however, she arrived safely at Burgos, but her young
husband, Prince John of Asturias, died suddenly seven months later of
a malignant fever. At the age of nineteen, therefore, Margaret had
already missed being Queen of France and Queen of Spain. After two
years at the Spanish court, where she was very popular, she returned
to Flanders, arriving in 1500, just in time to be one of the
godmothers at the christening of her nephew, Charles, at the church of
St. Jean in Ghent. The following year Margaret married Philibert II,
Duke of Savoy, surnamed the Handsome, who was the same age as herself.
This time her married life proved to be only a little longer than the
other, for her husband died in 1504. Left twice a widow while still in
the bloom of youth, the Duchess devoted herself to poetry and the
erection of a church at Brou in her second husband's duchy of Savoy.

There, on the walls, woodwork, stained glass windows and tombs she
repeated her last motto:

FORTUNE . INFORTUNE . FORT . UNE

which has generally been interpreted to mean that Fortune and
Misfortune have tried sorely (fort) one lone woman (une).

The palace of Margaret of York stood on the rue de l'Empereur, where
some vestiges of it still remain, but Margaret of Savoy and of Austria
found this edifice inadequate to the requirements of a Regent and
acquired the Hotel de Savoy opposite. This has been restored and is
now used as the Palais de Justice, but--apart from its pretty
courtyard and one fine fireplace--we found very little to recall the
glories of the period when the great men of all the Netherlands
gathered here. The edifice was largely reconstructed by Rombaut
Keldermans, and it was here that the boyhood of the future Emperor
Charles the Fifth was passed, watched over by his Aunt Margaret. At
the time of her accession as Regent Margaret was twenty-seven years
old--"a fair young woman with golden hair, rounded cheeks, a grave
mouth, and beautiful clear eyes," according to one observer. Her
father, the Emperor Maximilian, was very fond and proud of her, and
the greatest treasure in the library in the Vieux Palais is a
"graduale," or hymnbook, which he presented to her in recognition of
her services in educating his grandchildren. On one of the pages in
this book is an illuminated picture showing Maximilian himself seated
on a throne surmounted by the arms of Austria, with Margaret and the
youthful Charles and his sister forming part of the group gathered in
front of him. The other illustrations in this priceless volume, all of
which we were permitted to examine, consist of religious subjects.

The events connected with the regency of Margaret of Austria belong to
the history of Europe. More than once she aided her father in solving
the great problems of government and diplomacy with which he was
confronted, notably in the prominent part she took in the negotiations
resulting in the League of Cambrai, which was directed against
France--the nation to which she always showed an unrelenting hostility
for the slight put upon her in childhood. In 1516 Charles became of
age, and two years later--while the new King of Spain was visiting his
Spanish subjects--Margaret was again proclaimed Regent of the
Netherlands. In 1519 Maximilian died, and five months later Charles
was elected King of the Romans, and was chosen Emperor the following
year, succeeding to the widest dominions ever ruled over by one man in
the history of Europe. In fact it is doubtful if any sovereign since
has exercised so vast a power, as the Kings and Emperors of later
years have had their authority more restricted, while that of Charles
was absolute.

In 1529 Margaret brought about the negotiations that resulted in the
famous Ladies' Peace between the Pope, the Emperor Charles, and the
Kings of France, England and Bohemia. Margaret represented Spain, and
Louise of Savoy, her sister-in-law and the mother of Francis, the King
of France, represented that monarch. The result of the conferences was
a treaty that was highly advantageous to Spain, and a great diplomatic
victory for Margaret; but as all Europe was tired of war the terms
were accepted and peace proclaimed amid great popular rejoicings, the
fountains at Cambrai flowing wine instead of water. The splendid
mantelpiece in the Hotel de Franc at Bruges was erected to commemorate
this treaty, although it hardly does justice to the prominent part
taken by Margaret in negotiating it. The conclusion of the Treaty of
Cambrai marks the climax of Margaret's career and also that of the
House of Austria. In addition to the vast empire ruled over by
Charles, his brother Ferdinand was King of Bohemia, and his sisters
Eleanor, Isabel, Marie and Katherine, Queens of France, Denmark,
Hungary and Portugal respectively. All owed their brilliant positions
to the patience and skill of their Aunt Margaret who, as her
correspondence shows, was looking forward to the time when she could
hand over the government of the Netherlands to the Emperor and spend
her remaining days in quiet seclusion.

Under her wise rule the Netherlands had attained the greatest
prosperity ever known. Industry and commerce flourished, peace and
safety reigned throughout her broad dominions. At her court in Malines
Margaret gathered a brilliant group of artists, poets and men of
letters. Mabuse (Jan Gossaert), Bernard Van Orley and Michel Coxcie
were among the famous Flemish artists patronised by the Duchess.
Rombaut Keldermans received many commissions as architect from the
great Lady of Savoy and her Imperial nephew for important edifices not
only at Malines but at Antwerp, Brussels, Ghent and throughout the
Low Countries. In 1451 the Pope, Nicholas V, had proclaimed a Holy
Year at Malines and enormous numbers of pilgrims visited the city in
consequence. Their lavish gifts made possible the rapid erection of
most of the splendid religious edifices with which the city is so
amply provided, and it was during the reign of Margaret that these
structures were completed and decorated. Among the beautiful buildings
executed during this period may be mentioned the Belfry at Bruges, the
tower of St. Rombaut, the Hotel de Ville at Ghent, the spire of the
cathedral at Antwerp, the cathedral of Ste. Gudule at Brussels, and
many minor churches throughout the Low Countries.

Margaret displayed rare taste for works of art, and her palace was a
veritable treasure house of masterpieces, as an inventory prepared at
her direction shows. One of the most famous of these was the portrait
of Jean Arnolfini and his wife by Jean Van Eyck, which--after many
vicissitudes--has now found a permanent resting place in the National
Gallery at London, unless some militant suffragette adds another
chapter to its chequered history. Another treasure has been less
fortunate, namely the portrait of _La belle Portugalaise_, wife of
Philip the Good, which was painted by Jean Van Eyck under
circumstances already described in another chapter. This famous
picture disappeared during the religious wars and has never been
discovered. The inventory lists a great many other paintings, of which
some are still in existence and some have been lost. The descriptions
are often quaint and charming, and may have been dictated by the
Duchess herself, as for example: "_Une petite Nostre-Dame disant ses
heures, faicte de la main de Michel (Coxcie) que Madame appelle sa
mignonne et le petit dieu dort_," and "_Ung petit paradis ou sont
touxs les apôtres._" Other artists of note in the collection were
Bernard Van Orley, Hans Memling, Roger Van der Weyden, Dierick Bouts,
Jerome Bosch and Gerard Horembout.

[Illustration: PORTRAIT OF JEAN ARNOLFINI AND HIS WIFE BY JEAN VAN
EYCK.]

Among the men of letters whom Margaret gathered around her were Jean
Molinet, her librarian and a poet who often celebrated her charms;
Jean Lemaire de Belges, who became her historian; Erasmus, Nicolas
Everard, Adrian of Utrecht, Cornelius Agrippa, Massé, Rénacle de
Florennes, Louis Vivés, and many others. Her library was as choice as
her collection of paintings and included a Book of Hours and several
other illuminated manuscripts now in the Bibliotheque Royale at
Brussels, and many of the mediæval classics. History records few great
personages whose personality, considered from every aspect, is more
pleasing than that of this gracious lady, whose very pets are known to
us through the frequent references made to them by her literary
courtiers. Her career, though shaded by sadness and disappointment,
was a great and noble one, and, while she lived, the land over which
she ruled remained in almost uninterrupted peace and prosperity--the
wars of the Emperor being for the most part waged far away on the
plains of Italy or in France.

On the last day of November, 1530, the Regent Margaret passed away at
her palace at Malines in the fiftieth year of her age and the
twenty-third of her regency. For forty-five days the bells of the
churches throughout the city tolled at morning, noon and night in
expression of the profound grief of the people at their great loss.
The dirges may well have been for the departure of the city's
greatness as well, for the death of its great patroness proved the
beginning of its decline. The new Regent, Marie of Hungary, removed
her court to Brussels, and although Malines, by way of compensation,
was made the seat of an arch-bishopric it never recovered its former
splendour and sank rapidly into the quiet town that it was when the
great war added a new and tragic chapter to its history.

CHAPTER XVI

GHENT UNDER CHARLES THE FIFTH--AND SINCE

But for the great disaster at Nancy, it is altogether probable that
Charles the Bold would, before very long, have sought to chastise the
burghers of Ghent as he did those of Liége, but his unexpected death,
and the ruin of his plans, gave the citizens at least a brief period
of respite from the tyranny that had been pressing more and more
heavily upon them since the "bloody sea of Gavre." His daughter,
Marie, was only nineteen when her father's fall placed her at the
mercy of the turbulent communes, and at Ghent as well as Bruges she
was forced to grant a charter restoring the many privileges that
Charles and Philip the Good had taken away. She was even helpless to
save the lives of two of her most trusted counsellors, who were
accused by the men of Ghent of treacherous correspondence with their
wily enemy, Louis XI, and--in spite of her entreaties and tears in
their behalf in the Marché de Vendredi--were publicly beheaded in the
first year of her brief reign.

Shortly after the untimely death of this princess whose popularity
might have held the communes in check, her husband, Maximilian, began
the long war that finally resulted in establishing his authority over
all of Flanders. This accomplished, he established his daughter,
Margaret of Austria, as Regent and during the twenty-three years of
her wise and gentle reign the country remained for the most part at
peace and its commerce and prosperity returned.

It was during the struggle with Maximilian that the Rabot was
constructed at Ghent, in 1489. The previous year the Emperor Frederick
III, father of Maximilian, had threatened the city at this point,
where its fortifications were weakest, and the two famous pointed
towers were built as part of the protective works designed to render a
similar attack impossible. Although somewhat mutilated in 1860, the
twin towers still stand, and with the curious intervening structure
constitute one of the finest bits of military architecture of the
fifteenth century that has come down to us. Historically, they form a
monument of the victory gained by the commune over Frederick and his
son in their first attempt to curtail its liberties and privileges.

On the 24th of February of the year 1500 the city of Ghent learned
that a baby boy had been born at the Cour de Princes, to its
sovereigns, Philip the Handsome and Joanna of Spain, who was destined
to become the most powerful monarch in the world. On the day when this
fortunate baby was baptised with the name of Charles, the city gave
itself up to rejoicings that might well have been tempered had it
known the fate that was in store for it at the hands of its
illustrious son forty years later. As it was, joy reigned, and at
night ten thousand flaming torches flared, the great dragon in the
belfry spouted Greek fire, and on a rope suspended from the top of the
belfry to the spire of St. Nicholas a tight-rope dancer performed
prodigies of skill for the cheering crowds that thronged the streets
below.

Fifteen years later, when Charles was declared of age, it was at Ghent
that he was proclaimed Count of Flanders. The following year he became
King of Spain, and in 1520 Emperor; thus at the age of twenty ruling
over all the Netherlands, Germany, Austria, Northern Italy, Spain and
the vast empire in the new world--then in course of conquest by
Pizzaro, Cortés and the other Spanish conquistadores. While the
city's most famous son was advancing to the zenith of human power and
wealth, its own fortunes were steadily declining. The long contest
with Maximilian and the competition of England had struck a death blow
to the cloth industry, which languished for a time and then gradually
decayed and disappeared. The Cloth Hall was therefore left unfinished,
which accounts for its insignificance as compared with similar
structures in other Flemish towns where the textile trade was far less
important than that of Ghent in the days of its greatest prosperity.
The city continued, however, to be the centre of the grain trade as
before, and the fine façade of the Maison des Bateliers (House of the
Boatmen's Guild), on the Quai au Blé, was built at this epoch, in
1534.

[Illustration: Photograph by E. Sacré. MAISON DE LA KEURE, HOTEL DE
VILLE, GHENT.]

A still more notable structure, the Hotel de Ville, dates in part from
the time of Charles. This edifice in reality comprises a group of
buildings erected at different epochs and for diverse purposes.
Architecturally the most beautiful of these is the Maison de la Keure,
which forms the corner of the Marché au Beurre and the rue Haut Port,
extending for most of its length on the latter somewhat narrow street.
This was designed and built by Dominique de Waghenakere of Antwerp
and the famous Rombaut Keldermans of Malines, and was erected between
1518 and 1534. The actual edifice represents only a quarter of the
fine design of the architects and lacks an entire story with various
decorative features which would have greatly improved its appearance
and made it one of the finest Hotels de Ville in Flanders. As it is,
this part is by far the best of the entire structure. The Maison des
Parchons facing the Marché au Beurre was built in 1600 to 1620 and is
in the Italian Renaissance style and vastly inferior to the fine
Gothic structure of a century earlier. The other portion of the
building comprises a Hall for the States of Flanders, in the ruelle de
Hotel de Ville, built in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries; the
grande conciergerie joining this to the earlier Gothic Maison de la
Keure and built in 1700; and a Chambre des Pauvres built by order of
Charles V in 1531, of which the present façade dates from 1750.

The inner rooms of this collection of buildings, of different ages and
different architectural styles, are of relatively minor interest. The
Grande Salle de Justice de la Keure is somewhat imposing with its
large fireplace, but its lack of other decorations makes it rather
cold and gloomy and we were glad to leave it. Much more beautiful is
the Salle de l'Arsenal, built half a century later. In the Chapel of
St. John the Baptist, which adjoins the Salle de Justice in the most
ancient part of the edifice, and is now used as a Salle des Mariages,
is a fine picture representing Marie of Burgundy begging her people to
forgive Hugonet and Humbercourt, her two ministers who--despite her
tearful pleas--were executed in the Place Ste. Pharaïlde hard by.

On the death of Margaret of Austria the Emperor appointed his sister,
Marie of Hungary, Regent of the Netherlands. The steady decline of its
trade and the increasing poverty of the people caused the city of
Ghent to seethe with discontent, and in 1539 an outbreak occurred that
gave the Regent great alarm. Under the leadership of a group of
demagogues the _Métiers_ or lower associations of artisans, overawed
the magistrates and seized Liévin Pyn, an aged and honourable member
of the Council and Dean of the _Métiers_ who was unjustly accused of
giving the Queen Regent a false report on the situation and of having
stolen the great banner of the city. This unfortunate old man was
subjected to fearful tortures in the Château des Comtes, but
resolutely refused to confess to any of the acts charged against him.
Nevertheless, he was finally executed on the Place Ste. Pharaïlde--one
of the most pitiful and unjust of the many cruel tragedies enacted
there. Broken and weakened from the tortures to which he had been
subjected, he had to be carried to the place of execution, where his
indomitable spirit was such that before bowing before the axe of the
executioner he sternly reproached his judges with their cowardice, and
predicted that the people would soon have occasion to regret the
fatuous course they were pursuing.

The dying old man spoke the truth. The Emperor was then in Spain and
matters connected with the government of his world-encircling realm
demanded for the moment his attention, but he was none the less kept
well informed as to what was going on in his native city, where
affairs meanwhile progressed from bad to worse, until a veritable
state of anarchy prevailed. When Charles learned of the virtual
insurrection against his authority that prevailed, and of the death of
Liévin Pyn, he was furious and vowed to inflict upon the rebellious
city a vengeance that would deter all other cities in the empire from
ever following its example. Slowly, but with a deliberateness that
boded ill for the foolhardy rabble who for the moment guided the
destinies of the commune, the Emperor made his preparations for a trip
to the Low Countries. Two months after the execution of Pyn it became
known in the city that their puissant sovereign was on his way. The
news filled the mutineers with terror. No longer was Ghent in the
proud position she had occupied under the Counts of Flanders and the
first Dukes of Burgundy--the premier city of the realm and a foe to be
respected and even feared. The power of Charles V was too vast for
even the most ignorant to think of armed resistance to his authority,
now that he was about to assert it in person. Many of those
responsible for the period of anarchy fled, others went into hiding.

Early in the year 1540 the Emperor arrived at Cambrai, proceeding next
to Valenciennes and Brussels. Meanwhile a strong force of German
soldiers entered the city--meeting with no resistance from its now
thoroughly terrified inhabitants, many of whom no doubt wished they
could restore the dead Doyen des Métiers, whom they had so cruelly
sacrificed, to life again that he might plead their cause with the
dreaded Emperor. They had good reason to tremble, for in a few days
the ring-leaders of the late troubles began to be arrested and all men
were forbidden, under penalty of death, to harbour them or aid them to
escape their sovereign's wrath. A few days later nine of the mutineers
were executed on the Place Ste. Pharaïlde where Liévin Pyn had
perished at their hands six months before. The magistrates were now
filled with terror and abjectly pleaded for mercy. The Emperor
haughtily replied that he knew how to be merciful and also how to do
justice, and that he would presently give judgment on the city "in
such a manner that it would never be forgotten and others would take
therefrom an example."

This disquieting response was followed by the Emperor's famous visit
to the top of the cathedral tower in company with the Duke of Alva. It
was on this occasion that the latter, with the ferocity that
afterwards made his name a by-word for cruelty for future ages,
counselled his sovereign to utterly destroy the rebellious city. To
this the Emperor responded with the _bon mot_ that showed at once his
sense of humour and his moderation. Pointing to the wide-spreading red
roofs of the populous city he asked, "How many Spanish skins do you
think it would take to make a glove (_Gand_, the French spelling of
Ghent, also means glove) as large as this?"

[Illustration: PORTRAIT OF THE DUKE OF ALVA BY A. MORO.]

Meanwhile, under the direct supervision of the Emperor, a huge citadel
began to be erected on the site of the ancient little town surrounding
the Abbey of St. Bavon--a choice that involved the destruction of many
of the Abbey buildings. The Emperor, while this work was going on,
remained at the Princenhof where he held his court, but gave no sign
as to what the fate of the city was to be. It was not until April
29th, 1540, that he finally--in the presence of a great throng of
princes, nobles and the members of his Grand Council, with the city
magistrates on their knees at his feet--gave his long delayed
decision. In a loud voice the Imperial herald first read a list of
thirty-five crimes committed by the people of the city, declaring them
guilty of _dèsléalté_, _désobéyssance_, _infraction de traictés_,
_sedition_, _rébellion et de léze-magesté_. In consequence of these
crimes the sentence deprived them forever of their privileges, rights,
and franchises. It directed that the charters, together with the red
and black books in which they were registered, should be turned over
to the Emperor to do with them as he pleased, and it was forbidden
ever again to invoke or appeal to them. It pronounced the
confiscation of all the goods, rents, revenues, houses, artillery and
war material belonging to the city or to the _Métiers_. It confiscated
the great bell Roland and decreed that it must be taken down. It
further directed that three days later the magistrates, thirty members
of the bourgeois or middle class, the Doyen of the weavers, six men
from each _Métier_ and fifty "creesers" should beg pardon of the
Emperor and Queen. The suppliants on this occasion were dressed in
black, with heads and feet bare, and cords about their necks, and were
compelled to beg the pardon of the Emperor on their knees in the
market-place. Besides this public degradation the magistrates were
required to wear the cords about their necks thereafter during the
exercise of their functions. It is said, however, that before very
long the hemp was converted into a rich cord of gold and silk, which
they wore as a scarf--as if it were a badge of honour instead of one
of disgrace.

The walls of the city were to be still further demolished, and the
sovereign reserved the right to specify later which towers, gates and
walls should be torn down to erect the citadel. Finally, a heavy money
indemnity was exacted, and the following day a new code of laws in
sixty-five articles was promulgated--the famous Concession
Caroline--which served as the basis of government until the end of the
old régime during the French Revolution. The city, no doubt, breathed
a sigh of relief that the Emperor exacted no further toll of human
life, but the conditions were none the less heavy enough. In brief,
these terms ended, once and for all, every vestige of self-government,
and swept away all of the privileges for which the burghers had fought
for so many centuries. The year 1540 marks the end, therefore, of the
long and brilliant history of the Flemish communes--for no other city
dared resist the Emperor's authority after this--and thereafter
Flanders became a mere province in the wide dominions of sovereigns
who seldom visited its cities and frequently did not even speak the
language of its people.

Among the tombstones in the Cathedral of St. Bavon one that deserves
more than a passing glance is that of Bishop Triest. Designed by the
celebrated sculptor, Jerome Duquesnoy, it is a notable example of
Flemish sculpture, besides possessing an added interest by reason of
the fact that the artist sought to destroy it when complete. More
important, however, than the monument and its story is the fact that
Bishop Triest was the father of the art of horticulture for which
Ghent is so renowned today. It was in his gardens--which were famous
throughout the seventeenth century--that rare and exotic plants were
for the first time planted out of doors in Flanders and trained to
grow in the form of pyramids, arches, summer-houses, and a hundred
fantastic shapes. The "Belvedere Gardens" of the worthy prelate became
the model for other gardeners, and the seed, planted in fertile soil,
from which sprang a great industry.

Not content with cultivating his own gardens the Bishop sought to
encourage in every way the humble gardeners of the city, giving them
his august protection, his friendly counsel, making loans to the
needy, and uniting them into a society under the patronage of St.
Amand and Ste. Dorothy. This noble example was speedily followed by
the city, which also encouraged the horticulturists. In 1640 William
de Blasère, an alderman of the city, constructed the first hothouse
ever seen in Europe. It was a hundred feet long, made of wood and
glass, heated with huge stoves, and sufficiently high to accommodate
the exotic plants that, in summertime, were set outdoors. This novelty
made a great stir and brought many visitors to Ghent. Soon afterward a
society of horticulturists was founded, and by the end of the century
a botanical garden was established.

In the opening years of the nineteenth century this institution very
nearly came to an end. It was costly to keep up, produced little or no
revenue, and Napoleon, who was then First Consul and included Ghent in
his rapidly widening dominions, decided that it should be suppressed.
A friend of the garden skilfully took advantage of a visit of
Josephine to Ghent to enlist her aid in persuading her husband to
spare it. Inviting the future empress to visit the establishment, he
contrived that the plants and flowers should plead their own cause.
Between two palms at the entrance he had a huge placard suspended
bearing the words: "_Ave, Cæsar, morituri te salutamus_." Then, along
the different walks, each flower and plant bore a card proportionate
to its size and containing a verse alluding to its approaching
destruction. Naturally surprised at this outburst of poetry on the
part of the "nymphs" of the garden, as the flowers styled themselves
in their effusions, Josephine inquired the reason for it. This gave
her conductor his opportunity, and he pleaded for the preservation of
the garden with such ardour and eloquence that he won her assurance
that if her wishes had any weight his beautiful garden should be
preserved and its "nymphs" should not perish in exile. The event
proved that he had secured a powerful ally, for the edict of the First
Consul was rescinded and the garden was saved.

To-day Ghent boasts of her title of "the City of Flowers." The
Botanical Garden is protected by a Royal Society, there are many
private collections that are worth going far to see, and more than
five hundred establishments, large and small, are engaged in
horticulture as an industry, the annual exports amounting to millions
of dollars. Bishop Triest can therefore be thanked for giving Flanders
one of its great industries.

Speaking of Napoleon, it is not generally remembered that Ghent was,
for the brief space of one hundred days, the capital of France. When
Napoleon returned from Elba, and was received with open arms by the
very troops sent to attack him, Louis XVIII fled incontinently to
Ghent where he set up a feeble court at his residence on the rue des
Champs. Here Guizot, Chateaubriand, and his other ministers met
formally every morning to discuss with His Majesty the chances of his
ever getting back to Paris again--Paris where, by the way, the mob was
singing mockingly:

"Rendez nous notre père de Gand
Rendez nous notre père!"

It would take a satirist like Dickens or Thackeray to describe the
scene when the fat monarch sat down to his mid-day meal, in the
presence of whoever might wish to watch the curious spectacle. He
conquered enormous quantities of food, but depended on Wellington and
Blücher to conquer the army of Napoleon. The forms of sovereignty were
none the less carefully observed, as the little court waited day by
day for the great event that all men could see was drawing steadily
nearer. At last, as the thunder of Napoleon's guns startled the allies
from their dance at Brussels, and the tramp of his advancing squadrons
shook the fields of Waterloo, this fat little fly on the chariot wheel
of European politics prepared once more for flight. Coaches were made
ready to carry the entire court to Ostende, where an English vessel
awaited them if the battle went against the allies. All day long the
horses stood in the courtyard, the drivers whip in hand. History does
not record what gastronomic feats His Majesty performed that day, but
late at night the tidings came that the Grande Armée was in retreat,
and that King Louis could return to his kingdom.

Ghent shares with Bruges the glory of being the birthplace of Flemish
painting. The famous "Adoration of the Lamb," by the brothers Van
Eyck, was ordered by a wealthy burgher of Ghent for the cathedral of
St. Bavon--where the greater part of the original work still rests. It
was at Ghent that Hubert, the elder brother, planned the masterpiece
and completed his share of it. But Ghent also had masters belonging to
the early Flemish school whose fame she does not have to share with
any other city. One of these was Josse or Justus, usually called
Justus of Ghent, who visited Italy in 1468 and there painted several
pictures. Another was Hugo Van der Goes who gave promise of becoming
as great a master as Jean Van Eyck when he suddenly gave up his chosen
profession and entered the Monastery of Rouge-Cloitre, near Bruges. He
was admitted to the Guild of Painters at Ghent in 1467, and left the
world of action in 1476--eventually becoming insane and dying six
years later. There is a story to the effect that he once painted a
picture of Abigail meeting David for a burgher of Ghent who lived in a
house near the bridge called the Muyderbrugge, and while engaged on
this work--which was painted on the wall above a fireplace--fell in
love with his patron's daughter. The painting proved a great success,
but the stern parents frowned on the suit of the young artist, and the
daughter, in despair, entered the convent of the White Ladies known as
the Porta Coeli, near Brussels. The house, which was said to have been
entirely surrounded by water, has long since disappeared, together
with the painting, but the story may be the explanation for the
abandonment by the artist of a promising career when he was still in
the prime of life. One of the finest pictures in the Modern Gallery at
Brussels is that by E. Wauters representing the madness of Van der
Goes. The painter is shown seated and staring eagerly at some phantasm
before him--perhaps a vision of the fair Abigail--while a group of
little choir boys are striving, under the leadership of a monk, to
exorcise the evil demon that possesses their famous brother by means
of sacred songs and chants. It is said that this method of cure was
indeed attempted while he was at Rouge-Cloitre, but without success.

The best work of both of these artists is, unfortunately, far from
Flanders--being found in Italy, where Flemish painters were in their
day very highly regarded. "The Last Supper," which was the greatest
masterpiece of Justus, was painted as an altarpiece for the
brotherhood of Corpus Christi at Urbino and still hangs in the church
of Sant' Agatha in that Italian town. "The Adoration of the
Shepherds," which was the greatest work of Van der Goes, is in the
Uffizi Gallery at Florence. At Bruges there are two paintings
attributed to this master, "The Death of the Virgin," in the museum,
and the panel representing the donors in "The Martyrdom of St.
Hippolytus" in the church of St. Sauveur. The greater part of the
paintings by Van der Goes in Belgium were destroyed by the iconoclasts
in the sixteenth century, including several of which his
contemporaries and other early writers spoke in the highest terms.
Frequent mention is made of his skill as a portrait painter, and Prof.
A. J. Wauters, after a careful study of his known works throughout
Europe, ascribes to him the famous portrait of Charles the Bold in the
museum at Brussels. The early writers state that private houses at
Bruges and Ghent, as well as churches, were filled with his works. Let
us hope that some of these--hidden away during the religious wars or
at the time of the iconoclasts--may yet be discovered and identified.

Ghent, during the fifteenth century, was the artistic centre of
Flanders, and the names, but not the works, of many of its painters
have come down to us. One of the most celebrated of these in
contemporary annals was Gerard Van der Meire, to whom tradition has
assigned the triptych of "The Crucifixion" in the cathedral of St.
Bavon. This artist rose to high rank in the Guild of St. Luke, to
which he was admitted in 1452, and a considerable number of paintings
in various European galleries are attributed to him. An Italian writer
ascribes to him one hundred and twenty-five of the exquisite
miniatures in the famous Grimani Breviary, now in the library of St.
Mark's at Venice. If this were true, Van der Meire was indeed a great
artist, but this book was illustrated after his death.

[Illustration: "THE ADORATION OF THE SHEPHERDS."--HUGO VAN DER GOES.]

According to the Royal Commission of Art and Archeology of Belgium,
Ghent contains more noteworthy antiquities than any other town in the
Kingdom. The Commission, it appears, divides the "antiquities" into
three classes, according to their relative importance, and credits
Ghent with thirteen of the first class, ten of the second and six of
the third--or twenty-nine in all. The figures for the other Flemish
cities are: Antwerp, seven first, five second, six third, total
eighteen; Bruges, four first, six second, six third, total sixteen;
Tournai, three first, six second, six third, total fifteen; Malines,
four first, eight second, two third, total fourteen. Many places are
credited with two or three each. We tried to get a copy of the Report
of the Commission giving the names of the antiquities in each class,
and the reasons for ranking them, but were unable to do so during our
stay in Belgium. It would have been a learned check on the list of
places we had found most interesting. Quite likely we would have found
that the Commission gave the first rank to some "antiquity" we did not
see at all, and maybe never heard of! However, we saw enough to occupy
every minute of our brief vacation, and the majority of those we
missed--wilfully at least--were churches, of which Flanders has enough
to fill three books like this were one to faithfully report them all.

In Ghent there are, as at Bruges, many interesting private houses
scattered throughout the city. The Professor and I on our morning
walks looked up many of these, but the list would be tedious to
enumerate. One of the most famous is the "Arriére-Faucille," formerly
the home of a rich seigneur, but since 1901 used as a Royal
Conservatory of Music. Its castle-like tower is very picturesque, but
we saw nothing of interest in the interior. Near by are two very old
houses with typically Flemish gables, called the Zwarte Moor and
the Groot Moor. Built in 1481, or thereabouts, the Confrerie of St.
George had its headquarters here for many years.

[Illustration: OLD GUILD HOUSES, QUAI AUX HERBES, GHENT.]

The guilds have already been mentioned, and the façades of all of the
more famous of the guild houses have been carefully restored. These
include the Maison des Mesureurs de Blé and the Maison des Francs
Bateliers on the Quai aux Herbes, the Maison des Maçons and the Maison
des Bateliers non francs. The ancient Grand Boucherie, recently
restored, is another interesting "monument." It seems that the
Butchers' Guild at Ghent owed its prosperity to the fact that Charles
V chanced one day to fall in love with the pretty daughter of a Ghent
butcher. This young lady obtained for her son and his descendants an
imperial monopoly of the slaughtering and meat-selling business which
survived all the various dynastic changes till the French Revolution.
The butchers were called _Prinse Kinderen_, or Prince's Children, and
seem to have made a very good thing out of the blot on their family
escutcheon. Another old edifice is the Maison de l'Etape, or Staple
House, a granary dating from the thirteenth century, which stands
beside the guild houses on the Quai aux Herbes. In short, the tourist
can easily find enough of interest in this rare old Flemish city to
occupy many days of leisurely sight-seeing. Ghent, like Bruges, has
thus far been spared the destruction that has overtaken so many of the
smaller Flemish towns during the war and, as far as is at present
known, all of its twenty-nine monuments are still intact.

CHAPTER XVII

AUDENAERDE AND MARGARET OF PARMA

It was on a pleasant morning in June that the Professor and I set
forth on a little expedition to the famous town of the tapestry
weavers, leaving the ladies to rest and shop at Brussels. The
poplar-trees that line the country roads and canals in all parts of
Belgium were in full bloom and their light cotton-clad seeds were
drifting like snow in every direction. Moreover, contrary to our
experience for some time past, the sun seemed likely to shine all day
and our old friend J. Pluvius was in complete retreat. Our route lay
for a considerable distance through a charming hop country, the plots
being much smaller than one sees in Kent or in Central New York State,
but very numerous, and, no doubt, aggregating a considerable acreage.
Farther along we passed through a superb stretch of hilly country
where many of the houses and barns had thatched roofs and were so
picturesque, both in themselves and in their surroundings, that we
would fain have descended at one of the little stations and spent the
day exploring and photographing this charming corner of Flanders. The
most beautiful spot of all bore the pretty name of Louise-Marie--the
thatch-roofed houses nestling cosily together upon a hillside. This
little station, by the way, is on the line from Blaton to Audenaerde
(in Flemish Oudenaarde), as we were approaching our destination from
the south instead of directly from Brussels. Presently the great tower
of Ste. Walburge loomed up ahead on our right, and we could even catch
a glimpse of the famous Hotel de Ville. Instead of stopping, however,
our train went on past the church, past the town, past everything,
until we began to fear that our faithful "_omnibus_" had suddenly gone
crazy and fancied itself a "_rapide_" bound for goodness knows where.
At last, however, the station came in sight, but we even sped past
that, coming to rest finally some distance down the railroad yard. As
we walked back toward the "_Sortie-Ausgang_" gateway we debated
whether we would drive back to the town in a cab or take a tram.
Emerging on the street we promptly decided to walk, since neither cab
nor tram-car could be seen.

There was no danger of losing our way, for there, straight down the
long street before us, we could see the huge mass of Ste. Walburge
towering far above the little houses around it. After a leisurely walk
of five or six minutes we arrived at a large bleak-looking square,
called the Place de Tacambaro, at the centre of which stood a monument
that--had we been in a carriage or on a tram-car--we would have passed
without more than a passing glance. As it was, we paused to read the
inscriptions and found that, for Americans, they told a story of no
little interest. It appears that this is a memorial erected in honour
of the volunteers from Audenaerde who died in Mexico in the service of
the unfortunate Emperor Maximilian. The south side of the monument,
which represents a reclining female figure by the sculptor, W. Geefs,
bears the following inscription:

"Ordre de Jour

Officiers et Soldats! Vous avez pris votre part des travaux
et des luttes dans la guerre du Mexique, votre
valeur dans les combats, votre discipline
dans les fatigues des longues
marches ont honoré le
nom Belge.

Au moment de vous rembarquer pour aller revoir votre
patrie recevez les adieux de vos frères d'armes du
corps expeditionaire français.

Dans quelques semaines vous aurez revu les rivages de votre
patrie y conservez, je l'espère, bon souvenir de leux
qui ont soufert et combattu à vos cotes,
ainsi que du Maréchal de France
qui a eu l'honneur de
vous commander.

Le Maréchal de France, Commandant en Chef.

BAZAINE."

Proceeding along the street, which still led straight toward the great
church, we discussed the strange fate that had led these valiant
Flemings to give their lives in a war of conquest so many thousands of
miles away--a futile sacrifice as the event proved, with this little
monument as their sole reward.

Almost before we were aware of it we found ourselves at the Grande
Place with the Hotel de Ville right in front of us. We were on the
west side of the little structure, which on the rue Haute adjoins the
ancient Halle aux Draps. An old doorway gives on the rue Haute, but is
no longer used, the entrance being now through the Hotel de Ville.

While the two principal churches of the town have suffered severely
from the fanatical ravages of the iconoclasts, or image breakers, the
Hotel de Ville can be seen in almost its pristine magnificence.
Architecturally this monument is generally considered as one of the
finest, not only in Flanders, but in the whole of Europe. Little it
undeniably is, although it towers up bravely above the low two-story
buildings surrounding it, but its very smallness gives its marvellous
façade the richness and delicacy of the finest lace. Begun in 1525, it
was completed twelve years later at a cost of "65,754 livres parisis,
16 sols, 2 deniers." Those who are curious can ascertain the modern
equivalent of the "Paris pound" of 1537, but even when we add the 16
sols, 2 deniers, it seems as though the burghers got very good value
for their money.

[Illustration: HOTEL DE VILLE, AUDENAERDE. Photograph by E. Sacré.]

Late Gothic is the period to which this gem in the galaxy of splendid
Flemish town halls belongs. It is considered the masterpiece of its
architect, Henri Van Péde, who also designed the superb Hotel de Ville
at Brussels and that at Louvain. The many little niches on the front
once contained statues of the noble lords and dames of Flanders,
including no doubt several of the great house of Lalaing, the Count
Philippe de Lalaing having laid the corner stone. Unfortunately these
were all destroyed during the religious wars and the French Revolution
and have never been replaced. This seems a great pity, as Flanders
still possesses many stone-carvers of great skill, and the kindly
hand of time would soon mellow the new work to harmonise with the old.
As it is, every niche contains the iron projection that formerly held
its statue in place, so that the work of restoration would consist of
simply carving each of the little statues in the sculptor's own
atelier, wherever it might be, and afterwards placing them in
position.

One of the original statues still remains in place, however, and is
entitled to the honour of being styled the oldest citizen of
Audenaerde. This is none other than Hanske 't Krijgerke, Petit Jean le
Guerrier, or Little John the Warrior, who, with his diminutive
standard bearing the arms of the city, stands on the topmost pinnacle
of the tower. His gaze is ever toward the South, with a far-away look
in his eyes, across the Grande Place and toward the distant hills.
During the three hundred and seventy-eight years that he has been
standing there, braving the winter rains and the summer sunshine, how
many changes have taken place in the great outside world while little
Audenaerde has stood still!

Even without its statues the principal façade of the Hotel de Ville
merits more than a passing glance. In the admirable harmony of its
proportions, the delicate beauty of its details, in the excellence of
the stone carvings--almost perfectly preserved--that form wreaths and
festoons of stone about its Gothic windows, there is nothing finer to
be seen in all Flanders. The high pointed roof, with its tiny dormer
windows, is exactly as the architect intended it, and the charming
little tower seems as perfect as the day the last of the
sixteenth-century masons left it.

The interior is worthy of the exterior. On the first floor a large
hall, called the Salle du Peuple--Hall of the People--extends from one
side of the building to the other. This contains a fine stone
fireplace surmounted by a splendidly carved Gothic mantelpiece with
statues of Ste. Walburge in the centre and Justice and Power on either
side. Below are the arms of Austria, Flanders, and of Audenaerde. This
masterpiece was carved by Paul Van der Schelden. The walls on each
side of the fireplace are decorated with modern mural paintings
depicting Liederick de Buck, the first Forester of Flanders, Dierick
of Alsace, Baldwin of Constantinople, and Charles the Fifth. Between
the windows overlooking the Grande Place are the Arms of Castile and
Aragon, while at the ends of each of the great beams that support the
ceiling are carved the arms of the various kingdoms and
principalities belonging to Charles V.

Already we perceive that the shadow of the great Emperor rests heavily
on this little city of Audenaerde, and as we proceed further in our
explorations the more dominating and omnipresent does his personality
become. Even the very arms of the city bear a mute evidence to his
generosity and sense of humour. It is related that on a certain
occasion the Emperor and his stately train approached the city without
being perceived by the sentinel stationed in the tower of this very
Hotel de Ville to announce his arrival. On reaching the gates,
therefore, the Imperial cortège found no one to welcome the great
monarch. The Burgomaster and the members of the Council, who should
have been there in their robes of state, were conspicuous by their
absence. Had this happened to his ancestor Charles the Bold, whose
fiery temper brooked no discourtesy, even when unintended, it might
well have gone hard with the unfortunate officials. As it was, the
Emperor overlooked the slight, but not long afterwards he maliciously
inserted a pair of spectacles in the arms of the city, remarking that
in future they would thus be able to see more clearly the approach of
their sovereign.

[Illustration: WOODEN DOORWAY, CARVED BY VAN DER SCHELDEN, HOTEL DE
VILLE, AUDENAERDE.]

Adjoining the Salle du Peuple is a smaller chamber, the Salle des
Échevins, or the Council Chamber of the ancient commune. Here there is
another stone fireplace slightly inferior to the one in the larger
hall, but resembling it in general design. The statues here represent
the Virgin Mary in the centre, with Justice and Hope on either side.
The chief masterpiece in this room, however, is the wooden doorway
carved by Van der Schelden, who was instructed by the burghers to make
it as beautiful as possible. How faithfully the artist performed his
task the result shows. Around its top stand wooden cupids surmounting
a richly carved entablature containing the arms of Charles V in the
centre with those of Flanders and of Audenaerde on either side. The
first is supported by two griffins, the second by two lions and the
last by two savages. The panels of the door itself and of the
sidewalls forming the complete portal are richly carved, each design
being different from all the others. For this bit of wood-carving the
frugal burghers paid the sum of one thousand, eighteen livres parisis,
or nine hundred and twenty-three francs--something over $175--and the
artist furnished the wood!

Formerly the walls of this room were decorated with tapestries of
Audenaerde, but at the time of Louis XIV these were all removed and
taken to Paris. Most of the tapestries in the town overlooked by le
Grande Monarque were subsequently taken away by Napoleon, so that the
Hotel de Ville of the city that gave these treasures to the world, and
that should possess the finest collection of them, has been stripped
completely bare. In their stead the Council Chamber at present
contains a collection of paintings of no special artistic merit but of
great historical interest. There is, of course, a portrait of Charles
V, wearing the insignia of the Order of the Golden Fleece. A portrait
of Louis XIV on horseback and bearing a marshal's baton, by Philippe
de Champaigne, forms a poor substitute for the tapestries filched by
His Majesty. This collection also comprises several portraits of
personages famous in later Flemish history. Of these the most
noteworthy is that of Margaret of Parma, which hangs close to that of
her father, the Emperor.

Just across the Grande Place from the Hotel de Ville stands the Tower
of Baldwin, undoubtedly the oldest structure in the city, and erected
by Baldwin V, a Count of Flanders who died in 1067, making it date
from the Norman Conquest. The concierge of the Hotel de Ville
informed us that this little tower, which adjoins another ancient
edifice now used as a brewery, was the birthplace of Margaret, but
this does not appear to be altogether certain. Some authorities state
that the honour belongs to a little two-story house with a high,
steep-sloping roof that also faces the Place. If the walls of these
old houses had the ears that proverbially belong to all walls, and
were still further provided with lips to whisper the secrets they
overheard, they could no doubt settle this question; and at the same
time throw some additional light upon a famous bit of mediæval romance
and scandal.

Of all the natives of the ancient town of Audenaerde the most famous
was Margaret, afterwards the Duchess of Parma, and for many years
Regent of the Low Countries, over which she ruled with an almost
imperial sway. Her father was the great Emperor, Charles V, who
dallied here for several weeks as guest of the Countess de Lalaing,
wife of the Governor of Audenaerde, while his soldiers were besieging
Tournai in the year 1521. The attraction that kept him so far from his
army was a pretty Flemish maiden named Jehanne or Jeanne Van der
Gheynst. According to the none too trustworthy Strada, this young
lady was a member of the Flemish nobility, but according to the city
archives it appears that she belonged to a family of humble tapestry
workers residing at Nukerke, a suburb of Audenaerde. At all events,
her pretty face attracted the attention of the youthful
Emperor--whether at a ball, as Strada says, or while she was serving
as maid of the Countess de Lalaing, as many writers assume, or perhaps
at a village Kermesse which Charles might well have attended
incognito. After the little Margaret was born the mother received an
annual income of twenty-four livres parisis from the Emperor. In 1525
she married the Maître de Chambre extraordinaire of the Counts of
Brabant, and died in 1541. Charles took his little daughter and had
her brought up as a princess. In 1537, when she was only fifteen years
old, she was married by the Emperor to Alexander, the Duke of Urbin, a
cruel and dissolute Italian prince who, however, died the same year.
The following year she was married to Octavio Farnese, a grandson of
Pope Pius III, who was then only fourteen. She was herself strongly
opposed to this marriage, but the Emperor was obdurate and she finally
yielded. Her son, Alexander Farnese, was the famous Duke of Parma who
became the foremost military leader on the Spanish side during the
sanguinary war between Philip II and the Netherlands. On the death of
her father, Margaret was made Regent of the Low Countries by her
half-brother Philip II. She arrived at Ghent, July 25th, 1559, and on
August 7th the King presented her to the States General, saying that
he had chosen her as his representative because she was so close to
him by birth and "because of the singular affection she has always
borne toward the Low Countries where she was born and raised and of
which she knew all the languages." She retired from the Regency in
1567, but was called back once more in 1580 at the personal request of
the King. As her son Alexander was then at the zenith of his power,
and opposed to her resuming the regency, she finally declined the
honour which was reluctantly given to him. She died in 1586 at the age
of sixty-six.

It was her fortune, or rather misfortune, to rule over the Netherlands
at a period when the seething forces of religious unrest and protest
were becoming too violent to be restrained. Had Philip II, her
half-brother, been less bigoted, less cruel, and less blind to the
best interests of the country and of his own dynasty, it is possible
that the great popularity of the Duchess--who was sincerely loved by
the majority of her subjects and respected by all--might have enabled
the Government to restrain the rising passions of the people. If,
instead of a policy of savage repression, the King of Spain had
authorised Margaret to pursue a policy of moderation and conciliation,
the fearful history of the next eighty years--the blackest page in
human history--might never have been written. Unfortunately,
moderation and conciliation were as foreign to the nature of that
sombre monarch as to Torquemada himself, and fanaticism fought
fanaticism with a fury that was as devoid of intelligence as it was of
mercy.

The first act in the drama of blood was the sudden outbreak of the
frenzy of the iconoclasts, or image-breakers, which swept over the
greater part of the Spanish Netherlands in the month of August, 1566.
Scarcely a church, a chapel, a convent or a monastery, escaped the
devastation that resulted from these fanatical attacks. Paintings,
statuary, altars and chapels, even the tablets and monuments of the
dead--the accumulated art treasures of centuries--were torn to pieces
or carried bodily away. In some places the work of destruction was
completed in a few hours, in others organised bands of pillagers
worked systematically for days before the local authorities--taken
completely by surprise--recovered their wits and put a stop to the
work of desecration. The loss to art and civilisation effected by the
iconoclasts in Flanders is beyond computation. The Regent acted with
energy and decision, her spirited appeals to the magistrates finally
bringing them to their senses and resulting in a speedy restoration of
order. Philip, who had just cause for resentment, meditated vengeance,
however, and in 1568 replaced the too gentle Margaret by the Duke of
Alva.

For the Professor the Hotel de Ville contained still another room of
inexhaustible interest. This was the museum of the commune which
occupies the entire second floor. For some reason--certainly not from
fear of the suffragette, which is a non-existent species in
Belgium--this is closed to the public, but we were admitted by
courtesy of the Secretary of the Commune. The collection is of the
utmost value to the historian and archeologist, but is rather badly
kept. Among the most interesting objects were four chairs once used by
Charles V; the ancient keyboard of the _carillon_ which formerly hung
in the belfry of the town hall but is now installed in the tower of
Ste. Walburge, and some water-colour designs for tapestries. A large
painting of the Last Judgment covered a considerable part of one wall.
This is attributed to Heuvick, and originally hung in the Salle des
Échevins. It was the ancient custom to have a painting of this
subject, covered by curtains, in the olden justice halls. When a
witness was about to be sworn the curtains were suddenly drawn back
and the sight of the picture, which represented with great vividness
the destruction of the damned, was intended to prevent false
testimony. The collection also included a variety of ancient arms and
coins, several curious mediæval strong boxes, and two huge snakes
which hung from the rafters overhead. There are no snakes in Belgium
to-day, but our guide assured us that a crocodile had once been taken
in the River Scheldt near Audenaerde, so the snakes may have been
natives after all--assuming, of course, that the crocodile story is
correct.

Back of the Hotel de Ville proper is the still more ancient Cloth
Hall, dating from the beginning of the thirteenth century. Its small,
high windows were built slantingly, to prevent archers from sending
arrows directly into the interior. At some comparatively recent
period two large windows were cut through, the walls on each side,
but a goodly number of the earlier windows still remain, and the beams
that support the high, pointed roof are still as sound as the day they
were laid in position.

[Illustration: CHURCH OF STE. WALBURGE, AUDENAERDE.]

To the west of the Grande Place, and scarcely a stone's throw from
Baldwin's Tower, rises the vast grey mass of Ste. Walburge, with ten
or twelve tiny fifteenth or sixteenth century houses nestling snugly
up against it. This splendid church dates from the very foundation of
the city, an early chapel erected on this site having been sacked and
burned by the Norsemen in 880. Twice after this the church was
destroyed in the wars between Flanders and France, but in 1150 was
begun an edifice of which some portions still remain. When John the
Fearless, Duke of Burgundy, chose Audenaerde as his Flemish place of
residence the burghers determined to enlarge and beautify their church
and erected the semi-circular portion of the choir in 1406 to 1408.
Soon afterwards the great nave was begun, but was not completed for
fully a century, in 1515. The tower, one of the finest in the world,
advanced still more slowly and was not entirely finished until 1624.
Its original height was three hundred and seventy-three feet, but in
1804 the wooden spire was struck by lightning and burned. It has
never been rebuilt, and the present height of the tower is two hundred
and ninety-five feet. As it is, it dominates the little city and
commands a wide view across the broad valley of the Scheldt in every
direction. It was a stiff climb, up a perpetually winding stone
stairway, to the top, but the view well repaid us for the exertion.

The interior of the edifice suggests a great metropolitan cathedral
rather than the chief church of a small provincial town. The choir,
which suffered severely from the ravages of the iconoclasts, has
recently been restored with great skill, and is now one of the most
beautiful in Europe. This church contains several paintings by Simon
de Pape, a native of Audenaerde, whose father was the architect of the
spire burned in 1804, also an "Assumption of the Virgin Mary" by
Gaspard de Crayer, a follower of Rubens, who painted more than two
hundred religious pictures. This, like all the others, is of mediocre
merit. To the student of history and of ancient art one of the most
interesting treasures of the church is its collection of tapestries of
Audenaerde. Three of the more important ones represent landscapes--in
fact the majority of Audenaerde tapestries that I have seen may be
thus described--with castles, churches, and farmhouses in the centre
and roses, tulips and other flowers in the foreground. Like most
Audenaerde tapestries also they are crowded with winged
creatures--birds flying or singing in the trees and hens, turkeys and
pheasants strolling in the grass. A tapestry of a different genre is
one belonging to the Confrerie de la Ste. Croix, which shows an
Oriental landscape with Jerusalem in the distance, and at the four
corners the figures of Herod, Pilate, Anna and Caiphas.

Tapestry weaving was introduced into Flanders during the time of the
Crusades, the reports of the returning crusaders regarding the
splendid carpets and rugs of the Orient arousing a desire on the part
of the Flemish weavers to imitate them. Castle walls, however thick
and strongly built, were apt to be damp and cold and a great demand
speedily sprang up for the new productions for wall coverings.
Starting at Arras and Tournai, the manufacture of tapestries spread to
all the cities in the valley of the Scheldt and received a
particularly important development at Audenaerde, which soon became
the leading tapestry centre of Flanders. The weavers adopted Saint
Barbara as their patron, and in 1441 were organised into a
corporation. In their original charter it was stipulated that each
apprentice must work three years for his first employer. Despite the
severity of this regulation the manufacture of tapestries expanded
with such rapidity that in 1539 no less than twenty thousand
persons--including men, women and children--were employed as tapestry
weavers at Audenaerde and its environs.

Among the famous Flemish artists who painted designs for the tapestry
weavers of Audenaerde may be mentioned Floris, Coxcie, Rubens, David
Teniers, Gaspar de Witte, Victor Janssens, Peter Spierinckx, Adolphus
de Gryeff, and Alexander Van Bredael, while there were a host of
others. Gradually, however, the artisans began to be discontented with
their rate of pay, which the master tapestry makers kept at a low
figure, and the advent of the religious wars found them eager to join
any movement of revolt. After the outburst of the iconoclasts and the
arrival of the Duke of Alva many fled to the Dutch provinces and to
England, never to return. This emigration continued well into the
seventeenth century, as various decrees passed by the magistrates
between 1604 and 1621, confiscating the possessions of such emigrants,
testify.

[Illustration: A FLEMISH TAPESTRY OF THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY.]

Another cause that contributed to the ruin of the tapestry industry at
Audenaerde was the active effort made by the Kings of France, Louis
XIII and Louis XIV, to induce the best weavers and master-workmen to
emigrate to Paris. Philippe Robbins, one of the most celebrated
master-weavers of Audenaerde, was invited to come to France in 1622
and was afterwards proclaimed at Beavais to be the _Chef de tous les
tapitsers du Roy_. Many of the weavers who went to Paris and Brussels
on their own account established ateliers where they manufactured what
they proclaimed to be _veritables tapis d'Audenaerde_, and this
competition still further injured the industry which soon afterward
disappeared entirely from the city that gave its name to this type of
tapestry and has never since been re-established there. With the
departure of its weavers the little city on the Scheldt rapidly
declined in importance, and for the past two centuries has been the
sleepy little market-town that it is to-day.

On the other side of the River Scheldt, which flows through the town
and is crossed by several bridges, is the interesting Church of Notre
Dame de Pamela, which dates from the thirteenth century, having been
constructed in the remarkably short space of four years and completed
in 1239. It thus belongs to the transitional period between the
Romanesque style and the pure Gothic and is of interest to the student
of architecture as one of the most perfect examples of this period in
Flanders. The general effect of the interior, especially when viewed
from the foot of the organ loft, is noble and imposing in the highest
degree. Our visit was during a sunny afternoon, and the effect of the
long beams of light falling from the lofty windows of the nave across
the stately pillars below was indescribably beautiful. Truly this
masterpiece of stone expresses in its every line the truth of
Montalembert's beautiful remark that in such a church every column,
every soaring arch, is a prayer to the Most High.

One of the most curious of the paintings in Notre Dame de Pamela is a
triptych by Jean Snellinck, a painter of Antwerp and a forerunner of
Rubens who was greatly in vogue among the tapestry weavers of
Audenaerde. This work represents the "Creation of Eve" in the central
panel, the "Temptation" at the left and the "Expulsion from Eden" at
the right. The figures are all finely painted, especially those in the
left wing, and the entire work is an admirable example of early
Flemish art. The church also possesses an interesting work by Simon
de Pape representing the invention of the cross. Beneath the organ
loft were three tapestries of Audenaerde workmanship which the
caretaker obligingly spread out on the church floor for our
inspection. All were in a poor state of preservation. One represented
a woodland scene with three peasants on their way to market in the
foreground. The second had a curious group of fowls in the foreground,
while the third showed a sylvan scene with a mother and three
daughters, each of the girls bearing a basket of flowers.

Both Ste. Walburge and Notre Dame de Pamela suffered severely from the
fury of the iconoclasts, although the storm broke in Audenaerde at a
later period than in the larger cities farther to the eastward. The
curé of Ste. Walburge and four priests of Notre Dame de Pamela were
thrown by the rioters into the Scheldt and drowned October 4th, 1572,
while both churches were sacked.

On our way back from visiting the smaller church we paused on the quay
named Smallendam to admire the superb view of Ste. Walburge across the
river. A bit further on we entered a quaint little estaminet bearing
the inviting name of _In der Groote Pinte_ which we freely translated
as "the big pint." Apparently our Flemish was inexact, for the
beverage with which we were served was not notable for quantity. It
proved, moreover, to be exceedingly sour and unpleasant, and we left
our glasses unfinished. In the course of a tour around the town we
inspected what remains of the ancient Château de Bourgogne, the early
residence of the Dukes of Burgundy. The principal building is now used
by a Justice of the Peace, and we found little of interest save some
old walls and a massive inner courtyard. At the hospital of Notre
Dame, opposite the great tower of Ste. Walburge, we found two more
Audenaerde tapestries in an admirable state of preservation, while a
dozen fine mediæval doorways in different parts of the town attracted
our attention. For so small a place there are a great many religious
institutions, many of them of great antiquity. Among these may be
mentioned the Convents of the Black Sisters (Couvents des
Soeurs-Noires), the Abbey of Maegdendale, the Convent of Notre Dame de
Sion, and the Béguinage--the last an especially charming little spot
with a delightful street entrance dating from the middle of the
seventeenth century.

It is hard to believe, as one wanders about the half-deserted streets
of this sleepy old Flemish town, that in its day of greatness it was a
city of no mean power, holding its own sturdily against the greatest
princes in the world. Of its ancient walls and towers not a single
trace remains, yet those vanished ramparts four times in less than two
centuries defied the armies of the neighbouring--but, alas, not always
neighbourly--city of Ghent, even the redoubtable Philip Van Artevelde
retiring from in front of them discomfited in 1382. Three centuries
later, in 1684, Louis XIV was beaten off from an assault on these same
walls, but in revenge he ordered the bombardment of the city. This
resulted in a conflagration from which it had not fully recovered half
a century later. In 1708 the Duke of Marlborough and Prince Eugene of
Savoy won a great victory over the French under the walls of
Audenaerde. To this day along the frontier between France and Flanders
the peasant women lull their babies to sleep with a crooning ballad
which begins:

Malbrook s'en va't en guerre,
Mirlonton, mirlonton, mirlontaine;
Malbrook s'en va't en guerre,
Dieu sait quand il reviendra.
Il reviendra à Pâques,
Mirlonton, mirlonton, mirlontaine,
_Il reviendra à Pâques,
Ou à la Trinité. (bis)_

Small wonder that even the nursery songs tell of war and chant the
name of the great Duke two hundred years after the Battle of
Audenaerde, for during three centuries the Flemish plains were the
battlefield of Europe. Happily the present war has not as yet smitten
Audenaerde with any serious damage, although Le Petit Guerrier, from
his perch on the belfry of the Hotel de Ville, has no doubt looked
down upon long lines of marching men and gleaming bayonets.

CHAPTER XVIII

OLD ANTWERP--ITS HISTORY AND LEGENDS

While Bruges and Ghent were in their prime as centres of Flemish
commerce and industry a rival that was destined ultimately to supplant
and eclipse them both was slowly growing up along the banks of the
River Scheldt at a point where that important stream, which flows
entirely across Flanders, becomes a tidal estuary. From the most
ancient times the prosperity of Antwerp--which in French is called
Anvers, in Flemish Antwerpen--has been closely connected with the
river. According to the legends a giant named Antigonus once had a
castle where the city now stands and exacted a toll of all who passed
up or down the river. Evasion of this primitive high tariff was
punished by cutting off both the culprit's hands. Of course this giant
just had to be killed by the hero, whose name was Brabo, and who was
said to have been a lieutenant of Cæsar. Brabo cut off the dead
giant's right hand and flung it into the river in token that
thenceforth it should be free from similar extortions. The visitor
will find this legend recalled in the city's arms--which has two hands
surmounting a castle--and in many works of art. Brabo is said to have
become the first Margrave of Antwerp, and to have founded a line of
seventeen Margraves, all bearing the same name, but the deeds and even
the existence of these princes is as mythical as those of their
ancestor--or the famous legend of Lohengrin, which belongs to this
period of Antwerp's history.

Like London, Antwerp is situated sixty miles from the sea. In olden
days commerce was rather inclined to seek the more inland ports, as
being safer from storms and less exposed to sudden attacks. The size
of ocean-going ships was, moreover, slowly but steadily increasing
from generation to generation, and this increase favoured Antwerp,
which had a deep, sure channel to the sea, as against its early rival
Bruges, whose outlet, the little River Zwyn, was gradually silting up.
The fact that the town was situated just outside of the dominions of
the Counts of Flanders probably helped its early growth, for the
jealous men of Bruges might otherwise have obtained from the Counts
decrees restricting, and perhaps prohibiting, its expansion. As it
was, the great Counts ruled all of the left bank of the Scheldt from
Antwerp to the sea, and also the waters of the river as far as one
could ride into it on horseback and then reach with extended sword.

The Tête de Flandre, opposite the centre of the older part of the
city, marks the end of Flanders proper in this direction. As already
explained by the Professor, however, Antwerp is none the less
essentially a Flemish city in its art and architecture, its language
and literature, and for many centuries of its brilliant history, and
for these reasons deserves a place in this book.

Like the County of Flanders, the region surrounding Antwerp was an
outlying "march" or frontier district of the Empire, and its rulers
therefore derived their feudal title from the Emperor. About the year
1100 the Emperor bestowed the march on Godfrey of the Beard, Count of
Louvain and first Duke of Brabant. To the Dukes of Brabant it
thereafter always belonged until that title, with so many others,
became merged in those acquired by the Dukes of Burgundy and united in
their illustrious descendant, Charles V. On the whole, the Dukes,
being absentees, were easy rulers--the shrewd burghers seizing upon
their moments of weakness to wrest new privileges from them, and
relying upon their strength for protection in times of danger. From
time immemorial the burghers claimed a monopoly right to trade in
fish, salt and oats. Other trading privileges followed, and by the
time of the first Duke of Brabant the town was already an important
one, with a powerful Burg, or fortress, surrounding five acres of land
and buildings. Among the latter was the Steen, or feudal prison, a
part of which still stands close to the river and is used as a museum
of antiquities.

The early Dukes greatly extended the commercial rights and privileges
of the town, Henry III granting a charter that allowed its citizens to
hold bread and meat markets and trade in corn and cloth. Duke John I
granted rights in his famous Core van Antwerpen, dated nearly five
hundred years before the Declaration of Independence, that were
remarkable for wisdom and liberality. "Within the town of Antwerp,"
the charter read, "all men are free and there are no slaves. No
inhabitant may be deprived of his natural judges, nor arrested in his
house on civil suit." In 1349 Duke John III granted a charter that not
only confirmed all of its ancient privileges, but gave exceptional
rights and liberties to foreigners--causing many of them to come and
settle there. Among these was the right granted to any dweller within
the city to sue: citizens according to local customs, foreigners
according to the laws of their own lands. As at Bruges and Ghent all
these precious charters were kept in a box having many locks, of which
the keys were kept by delegates of the Broad Council of the city.
"This box," said Mr. Wilfred Robinson, in his valuable historical
sketch of Antwerp, "might only be opened in the presence of all the
civic authorities, while they stood around it bareheaded and holding
lighted tapers in their hands. Truly it must have been a quaint and
solemn scene!"

Some fifty years prior to the charter last mentioned Duke John II
married one of the daughters of Edward I, King of England, and gave
that monarch the city of Antwerp as a fief. Edward III used the city
as a naval base, and in 1339 signed there with Jacques Van Artevelde a
treaty of alliance with the communes of Brabant and Flanders. The
Kings of England did not, however, retain their suzerainty over
Antwerp very long, for it next passed--once more by marriage--to the
daughter of Louis of Maele, Count of Flanders. The city sought to
resist, and Count Louis was obliged to besiege it and punished the
burghers severely for their disobedience. On his death it passed to
Philip the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, along with the entire County of
Flanders of which it was then a part, and thereafter remained under
the Burgundian Dukes and their successors.

In 1446 Philip the Good--whose policy had proved so disastrous to
Bruges and Ghent--laid the foundation for the commercial greatness of
Antwerp by a liberal charter which he granted to the Merchant
Adventurers of England. The English merchants had already left Bruges,
where the River Zwyn was fast silting up, and now came to Antwerp and
established there a most extensive trade. They were followed by the
merchants of the other nations, and in less than seventy-five years
after the granting of the charter the population of the city had
doubled twice--from less than seventeen thousand to over forty--four
thousand inhabitants.

It was during this period that many of the most interesting structures
of "old Antwerp"--the portion of the city between the Steen and the
cathedral and north of the Hotel de Ville--were built. We spent
several interesting mornings tramping these quaint old winding
streets, some of which are still as mediæval in aspect as any to be
seen in Europe. The _Vielle Boucherie_, recently restored, dates from
the reign of Louis of Maele. In its time it contained stalls for
fifty-three butchers. The streets surrounding this quaint structure of
ragged brick are well nigh as ancient and interesting as the
"monuments" which one encounters here and there while exploring them.
The Steen itself dates, as we have seen, from the very earliest period
of the city's history, but is only a remnant of what it was. In the
days of the Spanish Inquisition this grim old structure became a place
of dread, and its gloomy dungeons--which the cheerful and smiling
guide showed us by candlelight, for two cents a head--were in constant
use for the entertainment of guests of the Margraves and their
successors, the Burgundian Dukes, for nigh on to eight centuries.

[Illustration: THE _VIELLE BOUCHERIE_, ANTWERP.]

In 1485 the rivalry between Antwerp and Bruges reached the point of
open war. The men of Bruges built a fort commanding the River Scheldt
at a point near Calloo, mounting on it no less than sixty cannon. The
Antwerp burghers met this challenge by building a similar fort at
Austruwel, and then attacked and captured the Flemish fort on April
23--St. George's Day. A yearly procession still commemorates this
victory in the long contest to maintain the freedom of the river. A
fleet of forty-nine merchant vessels that the Flemings had detained
came triumphantly up the river, and the conflict for supremacy between
the old sea gateway of the Netherlands and the new was settled once
for all--as far as poor Bruges was concerned--in favour of Antwerp,
the new maritime queen of the North.

The river itself seemed to favour the prosperity of Antwerp, as if
proud and eager to become the handmaiden of so valiant and beautiful a
city, for the western entrance of the Scheldt gradually deepened at
about this period--from causes that in those days no one tried to
understand. This gave the port a deep channel to the sea to
accommodate the growing draught of ocean-going ships. The discoveries
of Columbus and Vasco da Gama helped the port also. Until then Venice
had enjoyed a monopoly of the sugar trade of the East. Now it came
sea-borne to Antwerp, and the formerly profitable overland sugar trade
between Venice and Germany was ruined. This caused the Portuguese to
establish a factory at Antwerp. The Spaniards followed, while the
English and Italians enlarged their warehouses. Several great German
trading houses opened premises in the city, although the Hanseatic
League did not abandon Bruges for Antwerp until 1545--being the very
last to go.

While the decline of Bruges led the painters of that city to desert it
for its fast-growing rival on the Scheldt, Quentin Matsys, the
greatest of the early Antwerp artists, does not seem to have derived
much of his inspiration from the masterpieces of the Bruges school.
The early chronicles give a most romantic account of the life of this
painter, who was born at Louvain about 1466. According to these more
or less legendary stories he was at first a blacksmith, and changed to
a painter through love for a damsel whose father was a great patron
and admirer of that art. Another account has it that he took up
painting owing to illness, first colouring images of the saints such
as were then given to children during the carnival. Blacksmith he
certainly was, as his father had been before him, and the wonderful
cover for the well in front of the cathedral is his handiwork. It
seems probable, however, that he first learned the art of painting at
Louvain, probably as an apprentice to the son of Dierick Bouts. At
Antwerp he soon fell in love with a beautiful girl, who may have been
the model for some of his charming Madonnas. The story is told by one
old chronicler that the maiden's father opposed the match because the
young suitor was not a sufficiently skilful artist. On a certain
occasion Matsys, finding his intended father-in-law out, painted a fly
on one of the figures in a painting belonging to him. On his return
the owner of the painting started to brush the fly off and, seeing his
mistake, heartily admitted that the young artist who had painted it
merited all praise and gave his consent to the nuptials.

The museum at Antwerp is rich in masterpieces by Matsys, including his
greatest work, "The Entombment." This is a triptych, the panels
showing Herod's banquet with the head of John the Baptist lying on the
table, and St. John in the boiling oil. The "Madonna," in the same
museum, is one of the sweetest faces ever painted among the hundreds
of Madonnas that abound in mediæval art, and one cannot but feel that
it is the very face that won the heart of the artist and caused him to
adopt painting as his profession. Its resemblance to the face of the
Madonna now in the Berlin museum strengthens this theory. At Antwerp
also there are to be seen "The Holy Face," a companion painting to the
"Madonna" just mentioned, and the gruesome yet appealing "Veil of
Veronica," showing the livid face of the Saviour with drops of blood
from the cruel crown of thorns trickling down across it. The museum at
Brussels possesses another masterpiece, and the oldest dated picture
by this artist, "The Legend of St. Anne," which was completed in 1509
for the brotherhood of St. Anne at Louvain. He also painted several
strong and striking portraits, of which the best is that of Erasmus at
the Städel Institute at Frankfort. Matsys was one of the first Flemish
artists to present subjects of every-day life as well as religious
episodes and characters. "The Banker and his Wife," at the Louvre in
Paris, is the finest example of this kind. There are authenticated
works by this master in a number of European museums, while a
considerable number of his pictures have become lost or have not as
yet been identified.

[Illustration: "THE BANKER AND HIS WIFE."--MATSYS.]

Matsys is the greatest name in the history of Flemish art between the
masters of Bruges and the school of Rubens. It was his success that
made Antwerp the Florence of the North. Among Matsys' successors Frans
de Vriendt, better known as Frans Floris, was one of the most notable.
He was a member of the Antwerp guild of St. Luke at the age of
twenty-three, and produced a vast number of works, many of which can
still be seen scattered among the churches and art collections of
Flanders. He had over one hundred pupils, of whom Martin de Vos
achieved the greatest fame. As this painter worked after the
destruction of the image-breakers many of his religious subjects
survive to this day. The Antwerp museum contains no less than
twenty-three of his works, as against only four by his master. Both of
these artists, however, were profound admirers of the Italian school,
and the work of Floris especially--though vastly admired in his
day--is now looked upon as more Italian than Flemish, more imitative
than original.

This cannot be said of the next really great painter to appear in
Flanders, Peter Breughel the Elder. Born at the little village of
Breughel, near Breda in Brabant, about 1526, this artist studied for a
time in Italy--as did all of his contemporaries--and then settled at
Antwerp. Here he obtained the themes of many of his most famous
compositions. "In the port, in the tavern, in the fairs of
neighbouring villages," says Prof. A. J. Wauters, "meeting now a young
couple in the giddy dance, or a drunkard stumbling in his path, he
sought the humble spectacle of homely things, the noisy mirth of
rustic festivities, and was always in quest of every-day subjects,
which earned for him, at the hands of posterity, the surname of
'Breughel of Peasants.'" He later removed to Brussels, where he
received many commissions, particularly from the Emperor Rudolph II,
who greatly admired his work. Several of his chief masterpieces are
therefore in the Imperial Museum at Vienna, but the Royal Museum at
Antwerp contains four of his works, while several others are scattered
about Europe.

[Illustration: "WINTER."--PETER BREUGHEL.]

To the lover of Flemish paintings Breughel is one of the most
characteristic and charming of them all. His art is distinctively
Flemish, in subject, treatment and inspiration. Somewhat influenced
perhaps by Jerome Bosch, a Brabant painter of the previous century
renowned for his weird and eccentric conceptions, Breughel is never
conventional. His work is that of a humourist, a satirist who sees the
follies of the world but laughs at them. His pictures are admirable in
their colouring, execution and the grouping of the figures, and they
are especially interesting in their vivid portrayal of the every-day
Flemish life of the times in which he lived.

The visitor to Antwerp cannot fail to observe the images of the
Virgin placed at the corners of nearly every street in the older
quarter of the city. These are said to be due to the Long Wapper, a
somewhat humorous but none the less grim and terrifying fiend who was
wont, many centuries ago, to play weird pranks upon the good people of
Antwerp after nightfall. He used to lie in wait for wayfarers upon
deserted by-streets in the uncanny hours between midnight and dawn.
Pouncing upon his terrified victims, he would carry them off,
sometimes never to return. Now and then he assumed the form of a lost
baby, to which, being found by some charitable mother, the breast was
given. Presently the good woman discovered to her horror that the
foundling was swelling and becoming heavy, and when she put it down
the Wapper assumed his own shape and ran off shrieking. At times he
peered into church windows and howled and gibbered at the worshippers,
and afterwards frightened them terribly as they went homeward, or,
stretching his body to an incredible length, he peered into the upper
windows of people's houses. Men feared to speak evil of the Long
Wapper, for something terrible was certain to happen to those who did.
At last it was found that he would never pass an image of the Virgin,
and that is why so many were erected that finally the evil fiend had
no more streets left in which to play his mad pranks and left Antwerp
for the lonely moors and dunes along the seacoast where he is still
said to be seen.

The place most frequented by the Long Wapper was a little stream which
came to be called the Wappersrui in consequence, and a bridge across
it the Wappersbrucke. Here he often strode out of the water with his
long thin legs extending far down into its dark depths like two black
stilts. Once he had reached the embankment he shrank instantly to a
diminutive size--usually taking the form of a schoolboy. These first
appearances were generally between daylight and dark, when the
twilight made it difficult to distinguish faces clearly, and he always
took the place of some boy who happened to be absent. A favourite game
of the boys, who were then returning from school, was called
shove-hat. In this game one boy tossed his hat on the ground and the
others shoved and kicked it about with their feet while its owner
sought to regain it. When it came the turn of the Long Wapper to throw
down his hat the first one to give it a kick broke his wooden shoe to
pieces and fractured his toes, for the hat proved to be a heavy iron
pot. Then the street echoed with a jeering "Ha, ha, ha!" but the
Wapper had disappeared.

His pranks upon grown-up people were apt to be far more serious in
their consequences than those just described. Often he paused at some
tavern door and joined the party seated there in a game of cards,
which invariably resulted in a violent quarrel in the course of which
one or more of the players was usually killed. On another occasion he
appeared in broad daylight selling mussels. Encountering four women
sitting outside their door at work he opened a mussel and offered it
to one of them. She tasted it, but it turned into dirt in her mouth.
Apologising, he opened another, which all could see was a sound, fine
mussel, and offered it to another of the women. No sooner was it in
her mouth than it turned into a huge spider. The women thereupon set
upon him, but he defended himself so rudely that two of them were
nearly killed, when he suddenly vanished, leaving only an echo of wild
laughter.

In the country to the east of Antwerp there are many quaint legends
still told at the peasants' firesides on stormy winter nights about
the Kaboutermannekens who in ancient times frequented that
neighbourhood. Near the village of Gelrode there is a small hill on
the sides of which are many little caves which were formerly the
abode of these fairies, the hill being called the Kabouterberg
to this day in consequence. There is a similar hill, called
Kaboutermannekensberg, between Turnhout and Casterle. They were also
called Red Caps or Klabbers, and were usually clad in red from head to
foot, and often had green hands and faces, according to those who were
so fortunate as to see them. These little gnomes or elves seem to have
resembled their kind as reported in the folk-lore of other northern
countries, being the willing and loyal slaves of those who treated
them kindly, and the bitter, and sometimes dangerous, enemies of those
who misused them.

Still another local sprite--this time a spirit of evil resembling in
some respects the Long Wapper--was known as Kludde. This fiend was
often met with after dark in many parts of Flanders, and even in
Brabant. At times Kludde would appear to the peasants as the dusk of
twilight was deepening into the intense darkness of night on the
Flemish plains, in the guise of an old, half-starved horse. If a
farmer or stable-boy mistook him for one of his own horses and mounted
on Kludde he instantly rushed off at an incredible speed until he
came to some water into which he pitched his terrified rider headlong.
This accomplished to his satisfaction he vanished, crying "Kludde,
Kludde!" as he went away, whence came his name.

CHAPTER XIX

THREE CENTURIES OF ANTWERP PRINTERS

The joyous entry of the boy prince who was afterward to become Charles
V was the signal for ten days of rejoicing by the citizens of Antwerp.
This was early in the year 1515; and, in truth, the city prospered
mightily under the rule of the great Emperor, who favoured it on many
notable occasions. The bankers and merchant princes of Antwerp became
renowned the world over for their wealth and magnificence. Anthony
Fugger, who was the banker of Maximilian and Charles V, left a fortune
of six million golden crowns, and it is said that his name survives to
this day as a synonym for wealth--the common people calling any one
who is extremely rich a _rykke Fokker_, a rich Fugger. It is related
that another rich Antwerp merchant, Gasparo Dozzo, on being privileged
to entertain the Emperor in his house, cast into the fire a promissory
note for a large loan he had formerly made to his sovereign.

This period of wealth and prosperity continued till the very end of
the reign of the Emperor, but under his successor, Philip II, the city
was plunged into misfortunes and miseries as swift and as appalling as
those that befell in the terrible Fall of 1914. In 1556 Philip opened
a chapter of the Knights of the Golden Fleece at St. Mary's, afterward
the cathedral, in Antwerp--thereby recognising the supremacy of this
town over the others in his Flemish dominions. Among the new knights
to whom he gave the accolade were William the Silent and the Count of
Horn. Little men thought on that day of festivity and good will what
the future held in store for them all!

On August 18, 1566, the miraculous statue of the Blessed Virgin was
taken from its place in St. Mary's church and carried through the
streets of the city in a solemn procession--as it had been for nearly
two hundred years. This time there were murmurs of disapproval from
the crowds that lined the streets, some stones were thrown, and the
procession hastily returned to the church. The next day a small mob,
composed for the most part of boys and men of the lowest class,
entered the church and destroyed the statue and the entire contents of
the sacred edifice, including some seventy altars, and paintings and
statues almost without number. The organ, then the wonder of Europe,
was ruined, and the rabble dressed itself in the costly vestments of
the clergy and carried away the treasures of the church and even the
contents of the poor boxes. This was the beginning of the work of the
image-breakers, as they came to be called, which spread throughout
Flanders until scarcely a religious edifice had escaped the
destruction of its movable contents, while a few here and there were
burned. As noted in the chapter on Audenaerde, Margaret of Parma was
Regent at this time and acted resolutely to suppress the
disorders--which were largely due to the supine attitude of the local
magistrates at the beginning.

She had all but succeeded in restoring peace and quiet throughout
Flanders when Philip suddenly decided to send an army there, and
selected the Duke of Alva to command it. The story of the eighty
years' war that followed is familiar to every American through
Motley's account of it, although that brilliant writer is more
concerned with the details relating to the Dutch provinces than those
regarding the portion of the Netherlands that remained subject to
Spain. Two events, however, in the long war were so directly
concerned with Antwerp, and loom so large in its history, that they
cannot be passed over here. Both have a renewed interest in view of
the history of Antwerp's latest siege in 1914. These are the Spanish
Fury, and the great siege of the city by the Duke of Parma.

Alva, who superseded the gentle Margaret of Parma as Regent of the
Netherlands, quickly took stern measures for the repression of further
disorders at Antwerp, which he regarded as a hot-bed of heresy. A huge
citadel was built at the southern end of the town, near the Scheldt,
in 1572, in the centre of which Alva erected a bronze statue of
himself. On the marble pedestal the inscription related how "the most
faithful minister of the best of Kings had stamped out sedition,
repelled the rebels, set up religion, and restored justice and peace
to the country." So far were these boasts from being true that only
the following year, in 1573, Alva stole away to Spain secretly, his
government a failure, his army mutinous, and half of the country he
had been sent to rule in open and successful revolt. War with England
had ruined the commerce of Antwerp, Alva's fiscal policy and incessant
taxes had half beggared the people of the entire country, while
thousands of the noblest and bravest in the land had met death on the
scaffold or in the torture chambers of the Inquisition.

Requesens, the next Regent, was unable either to stem the rising tide
of revolt or to pay his soldiers--King Philip failing to send funds
until the pay of the Spanish veterans was at one time twenty-two
months in arrears. The sudden death of Requesens in 1576 left matters
in a nearly chaotic condition. The veterans who had been fighting in
Zeeland against the Dutch mutinied and returning to Flanders captured
the town of Alost, where they forced the citizens to give them food
and shelter. On November 4th, 1576, the mutineers marched to Antwerp,
some two thousand strong, where they joined the Spaniards and
mercenaries in the citadel. They were under the command of an
_Eletto_, or elected leader. Jerome Roda, a Spaniard, had proclaimed
himself the commandant of the fortress until the new Regent, Don John
of Austria, should arrive in Flanders. Under these two worthies the
combined forces in the citadel, some five thousand men in all,
proceeded to attack the city. The citizens, on their side, had for
some time feared such an attack and should have been able to repel
it. There were fourteen thousand armed burghers, four thousand
Walloons and an equal number of German troops--twenty-two thousand in
all. It may have been that they felt unduly secure against an attack
on that day because it was Sunday. It is certain that they were badly
commanded.

Shortly after noon the Spaniards rushed from the citadel and across
the broad open esplanade cleared a few years before by Alva, shouting
their war cry, _Sant Jago y cierra España_. The _Eletto_ was the first
to fall, but the rush of furious soldiers was not to be stopped by a
single volley. The Walloons put up a brave fight but part of the
Germans treacherously lowered their pikes and let the Spaniards pass
down the rue St. Georges. On the Place de Meir the defenders made
another stand, but were swiftly swept back in a confused and
disorganised mass by the Spanish cavalry. At the Hotel de Ville the
burghers fought fiercely until the mutineers set fire to the edifice.
In the conflagration that followed not only this noble structure, one
of the finest in Europe, but the adjoining guild houses and some
eighty other buildings were consumed. Of the Hotel de Ville only the
blackened walls remained. By nightfall the Spaniards and the German
mercenaries, most of whom had joined the victors in order to share in
the spoils, were masters of the doomed city.

That night the scenes of pillage and rapine as the savage and half
drunken soldiers swept through the streets and ransacked the houses of
all who did not instantly pay a stiff ransom, exceed the descriptive
powers of the contemporary historians. One of the burgomasters was
stabbed to end a quarrel as to his ransom. Many burghers were killed
near the town hall, or were burned within it like rats. For three days
the city was given up to be sacked. The number who were killed,
including women and children, has been variously estimated at from
seven thousand to seventeen thousand of the citizens and defenders of
the city, and from two hundred and fifty to six hundred of the
Spaniards. The loss in property amounted to many millions, but no
accurate estimate could be made of it, as many who suffered most in
this respect lost their lives as well. Cartloads of plunder were sent
out of the city, while much of it was actually sold by those who did
not care or dare to keep it in a temporary market-place at the Bourse.
Some were said to have concealed their wealth by having sword hilts
and breastplates made of solid gold. Like the ill-gotten gains of the
Spaniards in America, however, none of this booty--the reward of
treachery, of assassination, of cruelty and the sudden setting free of
all the basest elements in human nature--profited its captors very
greatly. In a few days after the arrival of Don John, the new Regent,
the mutinous soldiers were paid off and marched away to Maestricht and
presently to other battlefields, from Flanders to Lombardy, where, no
doubt, most of the golden breastplates and sword hilts fell--in due
time--to other conquerors. Such was the Spanish Fury--until 1914 the
worst blot on civilisation that history records.

Soon after the Spaniards left the city permission was given to the
people to destroy the citadel that the tyrant Alva had built to
overawe the town. The entire population flocked to this welcome
task--men, women and children, each taking a shovel, a basket or a
barrow. It is related that even the great ladies of the city took part
in the work of demolition--so hated had the grim fortress become. The
statue of the cruel Duke that he had so vaingloriously erected in the
centre of the citadel only five years before was torn down and dragged
through the streets by a cheering throng. Charles Verlat has given the
world a vivid picture of this incident which hangs in the Antwerp
museum.

[Illustration: "DRAGGING THE STATUE OF THE DUKE OF ALVA THROUGH THE
STREETS OF ANTWERP."--C. VERLAT.]

Six years later the Duke d'Alençon, who had been made nominal
sovereign over the Low Countries by William the Silent, planned to
treacherously attack and sack the city with his French soldiers, some
three thousand, five hundred strong. This time, however, the citizens
were not caught napping and when the tocsin in the cathedral called
the alarm the burghers rushed out in thousands. The French
swashbucklers proved to be less stubborn fighters than the Spanish
veterans and soon were driven back in a confused mass to the city
gates, most of them being killed and the cowardly Duke only saving
himself by flight. This episode has been derisively called the French
Fury. It happened January 17, 1583.

The following year Alexander Farnese, the Duke of Parma--and the son
of the Duchess of Parma, whose career as Regent of the Netherlands
was briefly described in the chapter on Audenaerde, her
birthplace--determined to besiege Antwerp, which, since the Spanish
Fury, had fallen into the hands of the revolted Provinces.
Unfortunately for its defenders, William the Silent had just died at
the hands of an assassin and his plans for the protection of the city
by flooding all of the marshes surrounding it were not followed. The
butchers opposed flooding all of their pasture lands and the important
Kowenstein Dyke was not cut. The Prince of Parma, who was the greatest
military leader of his age, swiftly captured the forts on the Flemish
side of the river, seized the Kowenstein Dyke--which extended on the
Brabant side from a point opposite Calloo to Starbroeck--and began to
build a bridge across the river itself. This daring project, if
successful, would completely isolate Antwerp from the sea and its
Dutch allies and render certain its ultimate subjection by starvation.

The bridge was built partly on piles, as far out as the water was
sufficiently shallow, then the intervening gap was spanned by means of
thirty-two large vessels anchored at both ends and lashed together by
chains and heavy cables. The structure was completed in February,
1585, to the amazement of the besieged burghers and the great joy of
the Prince's army. It would seem a small affair to the pontoon bridge
builders of to-day, being two thousand, four hundred feet long and
twelve feet wide, but at that time it was deemed one of the most
notable achievements ever known. The defenders of the city sent huge
fireships down the river to destroy the bridge. One of these actually
exploded against the structure and another off Calloo, destroying more
than eight hundred Spanish soldiers and endangering their intrepid
leader himself. The bridge was wrecked, but Farnese repaired it before
the people at Antwerp learned of the success of their attempt.

A tremendous attack was next made on the Kowenstein Dyke, with a view
to cutting it--a feat that could have been done without any trouble if
the Prince of Orange's counsels had been followed a few months
earlier. A fleet of one hundred and fifty Dutch ships joined in the
battle from the sea side, while a strong force of Flemings, English
and Dutch from Antwerp attacked the dyke from the land side. After a
fierce struggle it was cut, the waters rushed through and one vessel
loaded with provisions for the beleaguered city made its way past.
That night Antwerp rejoiced, but in the darkness the Prince of Parma
made another furious assault and finally drove back the allies,
capturing twenty-eight ships of the Dutch fleet and filling in the
dyke once more. This victory--which as a feat of arms was one of the
most brilliant of the war--sealed the fate of the city, which finally
capitulated August 17th. So important was this success to the
Spanish, cause that Isabella, the daughter of King Philip, was
awakened by her father during the night by the tidings, "Antwerp is
ours!" Its fall settled approximately the extent of the region that
was left to the Spanish Crown out of the wreck of its former empire in
the Low Countries. Thenceforth all of the provinces to the west and
south of Antwerp--the region now comprised in the Kingdom of
Belgium--remained subject to the King of Spain and his Austrian
successors until the great French Revolution. The remaining provinces
became the Dutch Republic and now form the Kingdom of Holland.

The Spanish Fury and the great siege had together well-nigh destroyed
the commerce of the port, and the heavy fine imposed by the conquerors
upon the city for its rebellion completed its ruin. Packs of wild dogs
are said to have roamed unmolested through the outlying villages,
which stood deserted, while even wolves were seen. Grass grew in the
once crowded streets of the city, and famine added to the miseries of
its fast declining population. It would hardly be conceivable that a
quarter of a century of hideous misrule could have so utterly
obliterated the prosperity of this once opulent city, but for the
fearful object lesson afforded in 1914 that war is still as potent a
breeder of destruction and despair as it was in that dark age.

Enough, however, of wars and sieges and the sack of cities. Antwerp's
past includes many pleasanter stories as well--stories of progress and
achievement. To those who are interested in the noble art of printing,
and the various branches of the fine arts that serve as handmaids to
the printer, Antwerp possesses one of the rarest treasure-houses in
the world. This is the Museum Plantin-Moretus, for three centuries the
head office and workshop of the great printing-house whose name it
bears.

Christopher Plantin, the founder of this famous establishment, was by
birth a Frenchman--having first seen the light of day in the vicinity
of Tours in the year 1514. Fleeing from the plague with his father to
Lyons, he went from there to Orleans, to Paris, and finally to Caen in
Normandy, where he learned the art of printing from Robert Mace. Here
also he met Jeanne Rivière, who became his wife in 1545 or 1546. The
couple soon went to Paris, where Plantin learned the art of
bookbinding and of making caskets and other articles of elegance from
leather. In 1549 he came to Antwerp and the following year was
enrolled as a citizen and also as a member of the famous guild of St.
Luke with the title of printer. He does not appear to have followed
this profession, however, but speedily gained much renown for his
exquisite workmanship as a bookbinder and casket maker, finding
several wealthy patrons and protectors-among them Gabriel de Çayas,
Secretary of Philip II, then the most powerful monarch in Christendom.

In the year 1555, while on his way to deliver in person a jewel-case
he had just made for this client, he met with an adventure that
changed the course of his career. It was quite dark before he had
completed his errand, and as he made his way along the narrow, ill-lit
streets of the old city he was set upon by a party of drunken
revellers who mistook him, with the casket under his arm, for a guitar
player against whom they had some grievance. One of the party ran the
unfortunate casket-maker through the body with his sword, and he had
barely strength enough to drag himself home, more nearly dead than
alive. Skilful medical and surgical aid finally saved his life, but
left him unable to do any manual work. He therefore gave up his
casket-making and resumed the trade of printer, which he had learned
at Caen. Instead of a misfortune, as it no doubt seemed at the time,
this sword thrust proved the turning point in his career, for in his
new profession he was destined to achieve undying fame.

There were at this time no less than sixty-six printing establishments
in the Low Countries, of which thirteen were at Antwerp, some of the
latter rivalling the best printers of Paris, Basel and Venice in the
beauty of their productions. Plantin's first book was issued the year
of his accident, in 1555, and was entitled "_La Institutione di una
fanciulla nata nobilmente_." During the next seven years his presses
turned out a limited number of works, but in 1562 his office was
raided by order of the Regent, Margaret, the Duchess of Parma, and
three of his workmen seized and condemned to the galleys for a
heretical book they had printed unknown to him, entitled "_Briefve
instruction pour prier_." Plantin fled to France, and to avoid
confiscation he had some of his friends, acting as creditors, sell and
buy in his printing plant. The following year--having convinced the
Government of his orthodoxy--he returned to Antwerp and organised a
company consisting of himself and four partners, including some of his
pretended creditors. While this arrangement lasted, from 1563 to
1567, more than two hundred books were printed, and forty workmen kept
constantly employed. His work was already considered notable for the
beauty of its type and excellence of the paper used.

Soon after the partnership was dissolved Plantin undertook what was
destined to be the greatest work of his career, and one of the most
notable in the history of printing, the famous _Biblia Regia_. This
was an edition of the Bible in four ancient languages, Latin, Hebrew,
Greek and Chaldean. The Hebrew type was purchased from a Venetian
printer, while the last two were cast expressly for this book. His
friend Çayas interested Philip II in the project and that monarch sent
the great scholar Arias Montanus from Alcala to supervise the work. At
the suggestion of Cardinal Granville, Syriac was added to the other
texts, so that, including French, there were six languages in all. The
first volume of this "Polyglot Bible," as it came to be called,
appeared in 1569 and the eighth and last in 1573. The work proved to
be exceedingly costly, and to help meet the expense the King of Spain
advanced 21,200 florins, and granted Plantin a monopoly for its sale
throughout the Spanish dominions for the period of twenty years. A
similar monopoly was granted by the Pope, the Emperor, the King of
France and the Republic of Venice. In spite of all this, the book
brought its printer no profits, but kept him in debt for the rest of
his life. Pensions promised by Philip II to himself and his
son-in-law, Raphelingen, were never paid.

Between the editor of the great Bible and its printer a strong
friendship sprang up. "This man," wrote Arias on one occasion, "is all
mind and no matter. He neither eats, drinks, nor sleeps." And again,
"Never did I know so capable and so kindhearted a man. Every day I
find something fresh to admire in him, but what I admire the most is
his humble patience towards envious colleagues, whom he insists on
wishing well, though he might do them much harm."

Besides the _Biblia Regia_ Plantin, now at the height of his fame,
managed to turn out a vast quantity of printed matter. High in royal
favour by reason of this worthy work, he had no difficulty in
obtaining for himself and his heirs a profitable monopoly for printing
and selling missals and breviaries throughout Spain's wide dominions.
While the largest printers at Paris rarely employed more than six
presses, Plantin kept twenty-two constantly at work, had agents at
Paris and Leyden, and sent a member of his family every year to attend
the fairs at Leipzig and Frankfort. In 1575 his office is said to have
had seventy-three kinds of type, weighing over seventeen tons.

In 1570 he was appointed by Philip to the newly created office of
Prototypographer in the Netherlands. Masters and men in the printing
trade had to apply to him for certificates as to their fitness, while
he was also required to draw up a list of forbidden books. In this,
curiously enough, one of the earlier products of his own press found a
place--a rhyming version of the Psalms in French by Clement Marot.
This office does not seem to have paid much salary, if any, or to have
given its first possessor anything but a lot of worry.

The Plantin Press was located at various places about the city until
1576, when it was established on the rue Haute near the Porte de St.
Jean. Three years later Plantin purchased from the owner of this
property the premises occupied by the present museum and extending
from the rue Haute through to the Friday Market, with a large gateway
opening into the latter. Plantin had been only eight months in this
new location when the Spanish Fury broke out. He was away on a
journey himself, but his son-in-law, Moretus, had to pay a heavy
fine to save the printing-office from pillage. The next few years were
full of trouble and anxiety. For a time Plantin had to leave Antwerp,
going to Leyden, where he met Justus Lipsius and was made printer to
the University. During the great siege of Antwerp he fled, with many
other Catholics, to Cologne, where he thought for a time of
establishing his chief printing-office. After the siege he hurried
home, but a short time later his health began to fail.

[Illustration: COURTYARD OF THE PLANTIN MUSEUM, ANTWERP.]

It was in the house on the Friday Market that the dying printer
gathered his family about him. His only son had died in infancy, but
his five daughters had all lived to be married, three of them to men
associated with him in the printing office. The eldest, Margaret,
married Francis Raphelingen, the chief proof-reader and an able
linguist; while the second, Martina, married Jean Moretus, the father
of a long line, of which the eldest sons bore the same name so that
they came to be distinguished by numbers, the first being Jean Moretus
I--like a line of kings. This son-in-law was Plantin's business
manager. The third daughter aided the mother, who ran a linen business
in the frugal way that many Flemish housewives have of helping their
husbands. A fourth, Magdalen, when only a child, corrected proofs on
the _Biblia Regia_ in five languages, and later married her father's
Paris agent. The fifth married a brother of Jean Moretus I, who became
a diamond-cutter.

Plantin had from a very early date adopted the motto "_Labori et
Constantia_," together with the emblem of a hand holding a pair of
open compasses, which may be seen over the Friday Market gateway to
the museum. This emblem, with the motto entwining it in the form of a
scroll, or appearing above, below or across it in a hundred
variations, is the mark by which connoisseurs can distinguish the
products of the Plantin Press. It must have been constantly in the
mind of the great printer himself, for on his deathbed he composed the
following French couplet, which expresses and describes his own
character better than any epitaph could do:

"Un Labeur courageux muni d'humble Constance
Resiste à tous assauts par douce Patience."

On July 1, 1589, this "giant among printers" breathed his last, and
was buried in the ambulatory of the cathedral, his friend Justus
Lipsius writing the inscription for his tombstone. While his name is
not associated with the earliest beginnings of the art of printing,
and the products of his press do not therefore command the almost
fabulous prices paid for the rarest productions of some of the first
printers, Christopher Plantin was not only the greatest printer of his
age, but one of the greatest in the history of the art. Almost from
the first he knew how to gather about him the foremost scholars and
artists of his time, making his establishment not merely a
printing-office but an institution of learning, a home of the fine
arts. Arias Montanus, editor of the _Biblia Regia_, aided by a host of
the most learned churchmen of Europe; Justus Lipsius, lecturer before
Princes at the Universities of Leyden and Louvain; Mercator and
Ortelius, the geographers, from whom the world learned the right way
to make maps and atlases; Crispin, Van den Broeck, Martin de Vos, and
a score of the foremost Flemish artists, who were employed by Plantin
to illustrate his books; these and many more no doubt were frequent
visitors at the printing-house during the lifetime of its founder.

These noble traditions were fully maintained under his successors.
Jean Moretus I ruled over the destinies of the house until his death,
in 1610, leaving it to his two sons, Jean II and Balthazar I. The
latter was the greatest of the dynasty of printers after Plantin and
Jean Moretus I. He was a warm friend of Rubens, who illustrated many
of the publications of the house during this period. In the fourth
generation, represented by Balthazar III, who ruled for half a
century, from 1646 to 1696, the family was ennobled, but after this
period the house confined its output and commerce to missals and
breviaries, under the monopoly granted by Philip II for the countries
under the rule of Spain. This business was completely destroyed by an
edict prohibiting the importation of foreign books into the Spanish
dominions, and in 1800 the printing office ceased operations. It
resumed activity on a small scale once or twice during the nineteenth
century, but finally closed in 1867, after an existence of three
hundred and twelve years, and in 1876 the last representative of the
house, Edouard Moretus, sold the entire establishment, with all its
priceless collections and furnishings, to the City of Antwerp for the
sum of 1,200,000 francs, to be maintained as a museum.

During the splendid period of activity in the first half of the
seventeenth century, the throng of famous men in the libraries and the
corrector's room of the old establishment surpassed that of the days
of Plantin and Jean Moretus I. Rubens, Van Dyck, Erasmus Quellin and a
host of other artists; Lævinius Torrentius, bishop and poet, Kiliaen,
the lexicographer, and scores of other learned men; Princes and Dukes
innumerable, the patrons and protectors of the house--all these and
many more were constant visitors. To the student the museum of to-day
recalls these great names with a freshness and vividness that the
ordinary museum fatally lacks, for here are countless mementoes of
their presence in the very proofs and prints they handled and
corrected, in the letters they wrote, in the sketches drawn by the
greatest artists of Flanders and engraved by the foremost engravers of
the time.

As a detailed description of the Plantin Museum can be found in all
the guidebooks, while an excellent handbook regarding its treasures by
Max Rooses, its renowned curator, can be purchased for a franc, it
would be unnecessary as well as tedious to recount them here. To those
who have but a little time at their disposal a liberal honorarium to
the attendant in each room--all of whom are garbed in brown with a
quaint cap of the same colour, as the printers of the house were wont
to be dressed in the great olden days--will bring forth a wealth of
curious and interesting information not to be found in any book,
anecdotes of distinguished visitors, bits of lore about this or the
other treasure, that will make the trifling investment well worth
while. In our case we made our first visit in this way, roaming about
the splendid old rooms and dipping into this case or that at
random--like butterflies amid a bower of roses. Visitors were few that
day and we had each attendant to ourselves. Later on we made another
visit, armed with letters of introduction to M. Denucé, the learned
assistant curator, and through his courtesy revisited each room once
more. A single book--one of the marvellous collections of early
Bibles--was, according to the attendant in that room, made the object
of an offer of a million francs, or maybe it was a million dollars, by
a well-known American millionaire. The collection in its entirety, if
dispersed by auction, would doubtless fetch many millions--but it
belongs exactly where it is. Like the collection of Van Eycks and
Memlings in Bruges, it would be a world calamity to despoil it or
disperse it. Even the very furnishings of the chambers up-stairs are
associated with the house of Plantin, were used by the family for
many years; the paintings that crowd the walls like an art gallery are
for the most part by Rubens--portraits of leading members of the
family. Then there are numberless drawings, prints and engravings that
represent the work of half of the greatest artists of the Flemish
school during the century of its greatest splendour--an inimitable,
indescribable collection!

Among other pictorial treasures we saw a collection of views of old
Antwerp that the Professor said he would gladly have spent a month in,
if only his vacation were a little longer. Then there were the
books--and again words fail to convey an adequate idea of the richness
and interest of the collection. There are nearly a score of early
German Bibles, including a fine copy of Gutenberg's _Bible latine_ of
1450; rare German and Italian incunabula, choice examples of the work
of the early Flemish printers, including _Les dicts moraulx des
philosophes_, printed by Colard Manson at Bruges in 1477. There are
examples of early French, Dutch and Italian printing; there are
Aldines, Estiennes, Elzevirs; books from the first printing presses of
Switzerland, Spain and Portugal. Truly the historian of the early art
of printing might come here and complete his work within these charmed
walls--he would need no other materials! Naturally the collection of
books printed by the house itself is large, though not complete, and
there are a great many products of other Antwerp presses. Most
valuable of all is the collection of manuscripts, which includes a
huge Latin Bible completed in 1402 and ornamented with the most
marvellous miniatures. Here are also several superb Books of Hours and
many other books with choice miniatures.

The printing-rooms also deserve all the time the tourist can spare.
The proofreaders' room is a gem, architecturally, artistically, and
from its historic associations with one of the world's finest arts. A
few old proof sheets are still lying on the high desks, near the
stained glass windows with their tiny panes. The typeroom has still
some of the old fonts of type and original matrices, while the
composing and pressroom has two presses of the sixteenth century, and
many quaint and curious devices then in use. All these rooms, together
with the large state rooms, which contain the manuscripts and choicest
examples of early printing, surround a charming courtyard which is
still kept bright with flowers as it was in the days of the
founders of the great house. The City of Antwerp is justly proud of
this noble monument to its great family of great printers, which
serves to keep green the memory of their achievements and of their
fine artistic taste and skill as no other form of memorial could do.

[Illustration: ANCIENT PRINTING PRESSES AND COMPOSING CASES, PLANTIN
MUSEUM, ANTWERP.]

CHAPTER XX

ANTWERP FROM THE TIME OF RUBENS TILL TO-DAY

If there is one name more honoured in Flanders than any other--more
often employed as the name of hotels, restaurants or cafés; more
frequently on the lips of guides, caretakers and sacristans; more
constantly in the mind of every tourist, be he or she American,
English or Continental--it is the name of the greatest of Flemish
painters, Peter Paul Rubens. No book on Flanders, and most assuredly
no work touching on Antwerp, would be complete without some reference
to the life and work of this prince among painters, yet no task can be
more superfluous, since nothing can be said that will add in the
slightest degree to his fame. He ranks in the history of art with the
greatest masters in the world--with Michael Angelo, Leonardo,
Rembrandt, Raphael, Titian and Velasquez--and it is probable that more
books have been written about him than about Antwerp itself.

Occasional references have been made in previous chapters to
notable paintings by Rubens to be seen in various churches throughout
Flanders--particularly to "The Miraculous Draught of Fishes" at
Malines, which is said to have been saved from the destruction of that
city, having been carried away before the first of its many
bombardments. It is at Antwerp, however, that the tourist who desires
to study the work of Rubens will find him at his best and in greatest
profusion. And the most famous spot enriched by his unrivalled art is
the cathedral. Here hang his two greatest devotional works, "The
Elevation of the Cross" and "The Descent from the Cross." The former
was painted in 1610 and gave the young artist--he was then only
thirty-three--instant and enduring fame. The companion work was
completed the following year. Neither was originally painted for the
cathedral. "The Elevation of the Cross," the earlier and inferior of
the two, was intended to be the altarpiece for the church of Ste.
Walburge, while the other was painted for the Society of Arquebusiers,
to adjust a difficulty that had arisen over apportioning the cost of a
wall separating Rubens' house from that of the guild. Both, however,
are in an ideal location where they now are, and form an admirable
starting point from which to see, first the cathedral, and then the
work of Rubens as a whole.

[Illustration: "THE DESCENT FROM THE CROSS."--RUBENS.]

The Cathedral of Notre Dame is without doubt the most beautiful Gothic
church in Belgium, and has thus far happily escaped the ravages of the
present war--passing unscathed through the furious German bombardment
of the city. Begun in 1352 it was, like other churches of its size,
centuries in reaching completion. The exquisite lace-work in stone of
the north tower was completed during the sixteenth century, but was
not wholly finished when the iconoclasts ravaged the interior of the
edifice. Originally the church of St. Mary, it became the Cathedral of
Notre Dame in 1560. The nave and transepts were not vaulted until
1611-16, or the very period when Rubens was painting the famous
pictures that now hang in the south transept. Work on the south tower
was discontinued in 1474, which seems a pity, as its completion would
have made the cathedral one of the most perfect specimens of Gothic
architecture in the world. As it is, the single tower dominates the
old part of the city and is a familiar feature of its sky line. The
chimes of the cathedral are famous, and are often played by Jef Denyn
of Malines. There are forty bells of various sizes, of which the
greatest was named Charles V, and requires the strength of nineteen
men to swing it. This bell was founded some eight years before the
young Duke Charles made his joyous entry into Antwerp, and no doubt
rang lustily on that occasion.

The interior of the cathedral is very vast, comprising six aisles, but
is too well known to require description. Among the numerous paintings
with which the chapels are adorned is one, a "Descent from the Cross,"
by Adam Van Noort, the teacher of Jordaens, and said to be the first
who taught Rubens how to handle a brush. In the second chapel on the
south is an interesting "Resurrection" by Rubens, which was painted in
1612 for the tomb of his friend Moretus, of the famous printing-house
of Plantin. The fourth chapel on the same side contains the tomb of
Christopher Plantin, with an inscription by his colleague and friend,
Justus Lipsius, and several family portraits. The visitor will find
many other points of interest in this vast church, which is a
veritable museum of art, architecture, history and human progress. The
high altarpiece is another famous Rubens, an "Assumption"--a subject
which he painted no less than ten times. There are half a dozen other
notable paintings by other artists, but the majority are of minor
artistic importance. The rich Gothic choir stalls, however, are worth
more than a passing glance, for the wood-carvings here are very fine,
although modern--having been begun in 1840, and completed forty years
later. The elaborately carved pulpit was made in the eighteenth
century by the sculptor Michel Vervoort, and was intended for the
Abbey of St. Bernard.

After the completion of the two great masterpieces now in the
cathedral Rubens was by universal acclaim acknowledged to be the
foremost painter in Flanders and of his time. His studio was besieged
by artists desirous of becoming the pupils of the brilliant master. As
early as 1611 he wrote that he had already refused more than a hundred
applicants. In 1614 he painted "The Conversion of St. Bavon," now in
the cathedral of St. Bavon at Ghent; in 1617 "The Adoration of the
Magi" in the church of St. John at Malines, and "The Last Judgment,"
now in the Pinacothek of Munich; in 1618 "The Miraculous Draught of
Fishes" at Malines; in 1619 "The Last Communion of St. Francis," now
in the museum at Antwerp, and, according to Fromentin, his greatest
masterpiece; in 1620 the "Coup de Lance," now at the museum of
Antwerp, and his finest work according to some other authorities. In
1622-23 he produced the twenty-four superb paintings of the Galerie
des Medicis. The "Lion Hunt," and the "Battle of the Amazons," now in
the Pinacothek at Munich, belong to this decade, together with the six
paintings of the history of Decius in the Liechtenstein Gallery, and
thirty-nine pictures for the church of the Jesuits, of which all but
three were destroyed at the burning of the church in 1718. The three
are in the museum of Vienna.

[Illustration: "COUP DE LANCE."--RUBENS.]

Here, in the space of a little over ten years, were nearly a hundred
masterpieces--works of such magnitude that two or three would have
sufficed to immortalise any other painter. Yet in addition to these
labours he designed for the tapestry-workers of Brussels the life of
Achilles in eight parts, the history of Constantine in twelve, and
many other cartoons of extraordinary merit. His friend, Moretus, in
accordance with the high traditions of the house of Plantin, came to
him for designs for many books, and he drew borders, designs,
title-pages and vignettes, and illustrated himself a book on cameos.
He even painted triumphal arches and cars for ceremonial processions,
and these works in his hands acquired a permanence of artistic value
that is in itself one of the highest tributes to his genius. The fine
portraits of Albert and Isabella, now in the museum at Brussels, were
painted for a triumphal arch in the Place de Meir--yet they are
masterpieces of portraiture, perfect and splendid down to the minutest
detail!

According to a report made in 1879, by the _Commission Anversoise
chargée de réunir l'ouevre de Rubens, en gravures ou en
photographies_, there are altogether no less than two thousand, two
hundred and thirty-five pictures and sketches by this amazingly
prolific artist, and four hundred and eighty-four designs--a total of
two thousand, seven hundred and nineteen known works. At Antwerp alone
there are upwards of one hundred pictures, of which more than a score
are masterpieces of world-wide renown and incalculable value. Besides
the great trio at the cathedral, and the family portraits in the
Plantin Museum, the museum catalogues more than thirty subjects of
which the "Spear Thrust" (_Coup de Lance_), "Adoration of the Magi or
Wise Men," the "Last Communion of Saint Francis," the "Christ on the
Straw" (_à la Paille_), "The Prodigal Son," and "Virgin Instructed
by Saint Anne" are among the more notable. Both here and at the
Plantin Museum the student of Rubens can find many interesting prints,
sketches and minor examples of the great master's work. At the museum
also is the interesting Holy Family known as "_La Vierge au
Perroquet_" (Virgin with the Parrot) which was presented by Rubens to
the Guild of St. Luke when he was elected President of that famous
organisation in 1631. Near the Place de Meir is the house of Rubens,
largely a replica of the original built in the eighteenth century--few
vestiges of the building in which the great painter held his almost
royal court remaining. It is worth a visit, but is far inferior to the
Plantin Museum as a memorial and in the interest and importance of its
contents.

[Illustration: "_LA VIERGE AU PERROQUET._"--RUBENS.]

On his death in 1640--"twenty years too early"--the artist was buried
in the church of St. Jacques, an edifice rivalling the cathedral in
size and interest. It was the burial-place of many of the wealthiest
families in Antwerp. The Rubens chapel is in the ambulatory, behind
the high altar, and contains a picture of the "Holy Family" which,
according to the critics, is one of the worst of the artist's
pictures. Several of the faces are those of his own family, which
probably was the reason why his widow placed it here.

Besides the paintings in various churches and museums in Flanders
there are twenty-three by Rubens in the museum at Brussels,
seventy-seven in the Pinacothek at Munich, ninety at Vienna, sixty-six
at Madrid, fifty-four in the Hermitage at St. Petersburg and the same
number in the Louvre at Paris, sixteen at Dresden, thirty-one at
London, while a considerable number can be seen in various public and
private art collections in the United States. "He is everywhere,"
writes Prof. Wauters with justifiable enthusiasm, "and everywhere
triumphant. No matter what pictures surround him, the effect is
invariable; those which resemble his own are eclipsed, those that
would oppose him are silenced; wherever he is he makes you feel his
presence, he stands alone, and at all times occupies the first
place.... He has painted everything--fable, mythology, history,
allegory, portraits, animals, flowers, landscapes--and always in a
masterly way.... Is he perfect? No one is. Has he faults? Assuredly.
He is sometimes reproached with having neither the outline of Raphael,
the depth of Leonardo da Vinci, the largeness of Titian, the
naturalness of Velasquez, nor the chiaroscuro of Rembrandt. But he
has the outline, the depth, the largeness, the naturalness and the
chiaroscuro of Rubens; is not that enough?"

To appreciate fully the magnitude of this greatest of all Flemings it
is necessary to recall, for a moment, the times in which he lived.
Fourteen years after the capture of Antwerp by the Prince of Parma,
Philip II determined--when on his deathbed--to give the Spanish
Netherlands partial independence by transferring the sovereignty over
the loyal provinces possessed by the Crown of Spain to his daughter
Isabella and her husband, the Archduke Albert. The arrival of the
Archdukes, as they were called, in 1599, was made the occasion of a
joyous entry that, on the whole, was justified by their
Government--which was a great improvement over anything that had
preceded it since the days of the unspeakable Alva. To be sure, the
war with the States of Holland still dragged on, and the Scheldt was
closed. But the burghers wisely sought to replace the loss of their
sea trade by encouraging industries. Silk and satin manufactures
during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries gave employment to
upwards of twelve thousand hands, and diamond-cutting became an
industry of growing importance. While the commercial stagnation was
severely felt, the city did not decline like Bruges, but held much of
its population and recovered some of its former wealth.

The Archdukes, who were relieved of the paralysing necessity of
referring every important act to Madrid, did their best to heal the
terrible wounds of the early years of the war and restore some degree
of tranquillity and prosperity to their dominions. Religious
persecutions ceased. Eager to win the love of their subjects, the
Archdukes welcomed Rubens to Antwerp when he returned to his native
city on the death of his mother in 1608, and in order to keep him from
returning to Italy made him their court painter in 1609. During the
remainder of his lifetime their favour never ceased, and on many
occasions Rubens was sent as a special ambassador of the Government on
important diplomatic missions. His courtly manners and stately
appearance favoured him, as well as his now tremendous artistic
reputation. He was knighted by Charles I, while on a visit to England,
and created a Master of Arts by the University of Cambridge. Among his
friends he numbered--besides his royal patrons, Moretus, the printer,
and Rockox, the burgomaster--many of the most famous scholars and
statesmen of his time. He was interested in literature and science as
well as art in all its branches and wrote a vast number of letters on
an astounding variety of subjects--one calculation places the total
number at eight thousand!

[Illustration: PETER PAUL RUBENS.]

As if his own achievements were not enough, the genius of Rubens was
the torch that set aflame a renaissance of Flemish painting that made
the later Flemish school, which justly bears his name, the peer of any
in the long history of art. Of his many pupils the greatest is Anthony
Van Dyck, who was born at Antwerp in 1599 and entered the studio of
the master at the age of fifteen. In the little church of Saventhem,
not far from Brussels, is the most famous of Van Dyck's early
paintings which shows his precocious talent. Rubens had urged his
promising pupil to visit Italy, and not only gave him a letter of
introduction but provided funds for the long journey. The youth set
forth, but in a little village on the way there happened to be a
kermesse into the merriment of which he entered heartily. Among others
with whom he danced was a beautiful country girl with whom the artist
fell so deeply in love that he was unable to proceed any further, but
devoted himself for days to courting her. Meanwhile his funds ran
out, and he bethought himself with horror, when it was too late, that
this meant the abandonment of the trip to Italy. In his extremity he
applied to the parish priest and offered to paint an altarpiece for
the village church on very moderate terms. It is related that the
priest smiled indulgently at the youth's pretensions that he was a
historical painter and put him off, saying that there were no funds.
Van Dyck, however, persisted, and offered to paint the picture if
provided only with the canvas, and leave the matter of the price to
the curé's liberality.

These terms could hardly be refused, and the young artist set to work
with such energy that in a few weeks the picture was finished. The
priest admired the work greatly, particularly the beautiful figure of
the Saint--the subject selected having been Saint Martin dividing his
Cloak among the Beggars--and sent for a connoisseur from Brussels to
decide if he should keep the picture. The verdict was favourable, and
the price paid to the artist enabled him to proceed on his journey to
Italy. It is not reported whether the future painter of kings and
courtiers ever returned to visit his fair inamorata of the kermesse,
but this pretty story, which is told in a rare little book, "Sketches
of Flemish Painters," published at The Hague in 1642, was written by a
contemporary, and may quite possibly have been true. At any rate,
there is the painting itself to prove it.

On his return to Antwerp in 1625 Van Dyck left behind him in Italy
more than a hundred paintings, in itself a prodigious achievement. He
now began to work in his native city with a rapidity and perfection
resembling his master's and produced the altarpieces that are among
the master works of Flemish churches. Here also he painted a
marvellous galaxy of portraits of the great artists of his time and of
the Flemish, French and Spanish nobility. His marvellous etchings also
belong to this period, so that Antwerp is associated with much of his
finest work in two great branches of art. In 1632 the artist went to
London, which he had visited on one or two previous occasions, and
became painter to the court of Charles I. Here he remained for the
rest of his lifetime, painting more than three hundred and fifty
pictures portraying the royal family and nobility of England. He died
in 1641, or only a year after his master, leaving a record of varied
achievement comprising more than one thousand, five hundred works. The
museum at Antwerp possesses twelve of his paintings, of which one of
the most interesting is the "Christ on the Cross" painted for the
Dominican nuns in recognition of the care and tenderness with which
they had nursed his father during the old man's last illness. The
catalogue of the museum somewhat conceals the artist's name under the
Flemish form, Antoon Van Dijck, which hardly suggests the brilliant
and debonnaire Sir Anthony of Whitehall and the beauties of England
under Charles the First. There are sixty-seven works by this master in
Vienna, forty-one at Munich, thirty-eight at St. Petersburg,
twenty-four at the Louvre, twenty-one in Madrid and nineteen in
Dresden, but England possesses the largest collections of his
productions, most of those he painted at London still remaining in the
public and private galleries of that country.

It would be a tedious task to recount the names and works of the
throng of lesser artists who studied at the feet of Rubens and Van
Dyck during the fruitful years when those masters were giving their
talents to the world with such amazing prodigality. Erasmus Quellin I,
the Elder, was one of the first--a sculptor who founded a family of
notable sculptors and painters who lived and gained renown at
Antwerp for more than a century. Faid'herbe, whose work abounds at
Malines, was another sculptor of the highest rank who was a direct
pupil of Rubens; Dusquesnoy, Grupello and Verbrugghen were renowned
sculptors who owed much to his influence.

[Illustration: "AS THE OLD BIRDS SING THE YOUNG BIRDS PIPE."--JACOB
JORDAENS.]

After Rubens and Van Dyck the greatest name in the Flemish school of
this brilliant period was that of Jacob Jordaens, who learned his art
under Rubens' old master, Adam Van Noort, and married his teacher's
beautiful daughter Catherine, who posed for many of his pictures. The
numerous family gatherings depicted by this master are famous, one of
the most characteristic of them all being the well-known "As the Old
Birds Sing the Young Birds Pipe" in the Antwerp museum. His satyrs and
peasants and rural scenes are among the finest products of the Flemish
school. The religious pictures of Gaspard de Crayer and Gerard
Zeghers, the portraits of Cornelius de Vos, and the animal pictures of
Francis Snyders and John Fyts all belong to this epoch when Antwerp,
although sinking in commercial and political importance, was making
herself for all time one of the art capitals of the world.

In pictures of homely Flemish life David Teniers, who belongs to the
next generation of Antwerp artists, achieved a fame that places him in
a sense in a class by himself, for none of the earlier masters
surpassed him in his particular field. He, too, was prolific--one
catalogue enumerating no less than six hundred and eighty-five of his
works. Of the same genre is the work of Adrian Brauwer, whose early
death prevented him from leaving so great a legacy to posterity.
Besides these masters of the first rank, Antwerp boasts an almost
innumerable throng of minor artists--pupils of Rubens, Van Dyck and
their successors--much of whose work is of excellent merit. Any
half-dozen of these would have rendered another city notable in the
history of art, but here their achievements are lost as are the heroic
deeds of the private soldiers in a great army. The mind cannot retain
so many names, cannot appraise and classify so bewildering a mass of
productions.

For this reason the tourist who is a philosopher will not regard too
seriously the dicta of the learned as to which of these lesser
paintings is or is not of the first rank in the order of merit. What
of it if the guidebook does not indicate by its little stars that this
is a picture for one to go into raptures over, if the sacristan or
guide passes it coldly by? If it appeals to us by all means let us
pause and admire it, let us study it, find out about it, learn
something of its history and that of the unknown artist who painted
it. Indeed, if on such closer inspection it still appeals to us, let
us buy it if we can--but at all events let us enjoy it to the utmost,
for of such joys Flanders is full. In out of the way corners
everywhere one can find genre pictures like those of Tenier,
brilliantly coloured groups suggestive of Rubens, scenes of bucolic
feasting in imitation of Jordaens. And here and there, who knows,
perhaps one may yet discover an original by one of these greater
artists or their rare predecessors, and retire on the proceeds! Who
knows?

The visitor to the Royal Museum of Fine Arts at Antwerp should not
leave without devoting at least a day to the modern paintings. To an
American, accustomed to museums where long walls filled with dreary
mediocrities are illuminated only at rare intervals with something
altogether fine and satisfactory, these modern galleries are a treat.
Picture after picture, room after room--all are beautiful and worthy,
many are splendid. The collection of modern paintings is not large as
European galleries go, some five hundred and fifty altogether, but
the general average of quality is exceptionally high--much superior in
this respect it seemed to us than the far larger collection at
Brussels, though it is not so regarded by the critics. The interiors
of Henri de Braekeleer, and his charming Nursery Garden, for example,
what could be finer? The "Ancient Fishmarket" at Antwerp by Frans
Bossuet, a native of Ypres; the "Lull before the Storm," by P. J.
Clays, of Bruges, one of whose paintings is in the Metropolitan Museum
at New York--all these are notable. So are the historical pictures of
Baron Leys, Guffens, Louis Gallait and Charles Verlat--but the list is
too long. These pictures are not to be described, they must be seen.
Individually the savants may quarrel as to their merits, but, taking
them all together, these paintings--for the most part by Flemish
artists--prove that the great traditions of Rubens and Van Dyck,
Jordaens and Teniers, have not been forgotten in their native land and
that modern Flemish art is a worthy successor to the greatness of the
past.

The lover of the beautiful has yet another treat in store for him when
he visits the famous old Hotel de Ville. It had hardly been
completed, in 1565, by Cornelis de Vriendt when it was partially
destroyed during the Spanish Fury. Rebuilt a few years later in its
present form, it contains some of the most beautiful rooms to be seen
in all Europe. The vestibule and grand staircase are richly decorated
with coloured marble, while imposing frescoes depict the zenith of
Antwerp's commercial and artistic splendour. The great reception-room
is decorated with four superb historical frescoes by Baron Leys, while
the exquisite Salle des Mariages is completely surrounded with
allegorical paintings portraying the history of the marriage ceremony
by Lagye, a pupil of Leys. In the rooms of this edifice the history of
the famous old city lives again, while in its splendid fireplaces and
minor decorations one can see examples of every branch of Flemish art.

[Illustration: HOTEL DE VILLE, ANTWERP.]

While the Hotel de Ville is most gratifying to the eye and the
imagination, it is not, however, intimately associated with many
important events in the history of the city. Albert and Isabella,
while they ruled, were virtually independent sovereigns, but on the
death of Albert without issue, in 1621, the country reverted to Spain.
Thereafter, for more than two centuries, the city, together with
Flanders, Brabant and the other loyal provinces of the Netherlands,
became the football of European politics, and Belgium received its
sinister name of "the cockpit of Europe." The people, as a whole, took
little interest in the great wars of the Spanish and of the Austrian
Successions that were fought largely to decide who should rule over
them, since there seemed no likelihood of their in any event ever
being able again to rule over themselves. Marlborough, after his great
victory at Ramillies, occupied the city with English troops in 1706,
and in 1715 the Hotel de Ville was the scene of the signing of the
treaty that ended the war. By this treaty the Spanish Netherlands were
ceded to Austria, becoming subject to the Emperor Charles VI. Thirty
years later the French victory at Fontenoy made them masters of the
city, and Louis XV had a joyous entry the following year. Two years
later, in 1748, the country was handed back to Austria and Charles
made a joyous entry in turn, the people apparently welcoming any
change of government with complete impartiality. The Empress Maria
Theresa was popular in her Netherlands dominions, but her son Joseph
II made Austrian rule so odious that there was a revolt, and in 1790
Antwerp was taken by the patriot army, to the immense joy of its
citizens. The Austrians soon crushed the revolution and reoccupied the
city, but the great victory of the French republicans, under
Dumouriez, at Jemappes destroyed the power of Austria in the
Netherlands, and in 1792 the army of the _sans-culottes_ entered
Antwerp. The defeat of Dumouriez at Neerwinden resulted in the
Imperial forces again occupying the city in 1793, but the French
victory at Fleurus the following year turned the tables again and
Antwerp once more became subject to the republic.

All these years the Scheldt had been firmly closed, Joseph II having
made a feeble attempt to free the river, which had collapsed at the
first shot from the Dutch forts. In 1795 the free navigation of the
river was decreed by the French, and a ship came up and was received
in state by the delighted burghers. It is stated that the value of
real estate in the city increased tenfold in consequence of this
decree. On the other hand, the _sans-culottes_ very nearly rivalled
the image-breakers in the vigour with which they destroyed the city's
religious monuments. The cathedral and churches were despoiled, and it
was even proposed to tear down the cathedral, because (they said), "it
cannot be reckoned a monument of any value except for the lead, iron,
copper and timber it contains." Fortunately Napoleon seized the reins
of power at Paris at about this time, and put an end to such nonsense.
In 1803 the First Consul visited Antwerp, which--as he afterwards
said--was "like a loaded pistol pointed at the heart of England."
Filled with this idea, he systematically sought to revive the commerce
of the port and erected great docks there for his war vessels,
portions of which still remain. In 1814, after the Emperor's defeat
and abdication, Antwerp, under Gen. Carnot, was the last French
stronghold in the Netherlands to yield.

After the second defeat of Napoleon at Waterloo Antwerp succeeded in
recovering most of the paintings that had been carried away to France
by the republicans in 1794. The treaty that followed the last
Napoleonic war gave all of what is at present Belgium to the King of
Holland, William I, who favoured Antwerp in many ways. As the Scheldt
still remained free the commerce of the port was considerable and
prosperity seemed to be returning. In 1830 began the revolution that
resulted in the independence of Belgium. One of its first events was
the bombardment of the city of Antwerp by the Dutch troops holding
the citadel. The following year Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha
was elected by the National Congress as King of the Belgians under the
title of Leopold I. The war with Holland was not yet over, however,
and in 1832 the English, French and Belgian troops began a siege of
the citadel at Antwerp, which was still in the hands of the Dutch. The
fortress had one hundred and forty-three guns, and the besiegers two
hundred and twenty-three, and it is stated that sixty-three thousand
projectiles were fired against it. The fortress was a mass of ruins
before its sturdy defenders capitulated.

From 1832 until 1914 Antwerp and the liberty-loving Flemings of
ancient Flanders remained free, happy and increasingly prosperous
under the wise and moderate rule of their chosen Kings. Leopold I
reigned until his death in 1865, and proved to be one of the wisest
monarchs in history. For Antwerp his greatest achievement was the
final freeing of the River Scheldt in 1863, after more than ten years
of diplomatic negotiations, from the tolls which the Dutch had
insisted in levying since 1839. Under his successor, Leopold II, one
of the most efficient chief executives it was possible for a nation to
have, the fine Belgian public service system was developed and the
prosperity of its cities and citizens promoted in every practical way.
In the two decades following the freeing of the Scheldt the commerce
of the port of Antwerp increased six-fold, while that of its rivals,
London and Liverpool, doubled and that of Hamburg and Rotterdam
tripled. Since then the business of the port has advanced even faster,
and the imposing modern business buildings that now line the Place de
Meir, one of the handsomest commercial streets in the world, afford
abundant testimony to its prosperity and wealth--as do the fine
residences of its merchants to be seen in drives through the outskirts
of the city. Under Albert I the wise policies of his predecessors were
continued, and the little country was enjoying peace and contentment
such as never came to it during the centuries of foreign oppression
and tyranny that began with the acquisition of Flanders and Brabant by
the Dukes of Burgundy. It is the greatest moral issue in this war
whether Belgium, after being free for less than eighty-five years,
shall once more pass into the hands of a foreign power. Its people
have demonstrated conclusively that under the limited monarchy they
have chosen they are capable of governing themselves far better than
the best of their self-appointed masters ever did in the bad old days
that, they had hoped, had forever passed away.

CHAPTER XXI

WHERE MODERN FLANDERS SHINES--OSTENDE AND "LA PLAGE"

Our last stopping place in Flanders was the one that many tourists
visit first, the gay watering place of Ostende. Here a little fleet of
fast Channel steamers convey the traveller to Dover in four or five
hours, while an excellent service of through express trains connect
the Dover end of the water route with London, and the Ostende end with
Brussels, Berlin and half the capitals of Europe. Our stay in
Flanders, however, was drawing to a close, and we were headed for
Liverpool, where the new _Aquitania_ was waiting to bear us home.

The tourist who expects in Ostende to find much that is reminiscent of
the Flanders of the sixteenth century, of which so much has been said
in the other chapters of this book, will be disappointed. To be sure,
it is not a young city, being mentioned in the chronicles of Flanders
as far back as the eleventh century. In the Eighty Years' War between
Spain and her revolted Dutch colonies Ostende was for a long time held
by the Dutch, who beat off two severe attacks by the Spaniards in 1583
and 1586, the former led by the all but invincible Farnese, Prince of
Parma. In the year 1600 the Battle of the Dunes took place at
Nieuport, in which the troops of the Archduke Albert were defeated by
a Dutch army under Maurice, Prince of Nassau. This victory, while it
gave great encouragement to the enemies of Spain by demonstrating that
the renowned Spanish soldiers were not invincible, was otherwise
barren of results, and in 1601 the Archdukes determined to besiege
Ostende, which was the last stronghold of the Dutch in Flanders.

Prior to the war with Philip II Ostende had been little more than an
obscure fishing-village, but since it had been fortified by the Dutch,
and had so successfully maintained itself against all assaults, the
place was fast becoming a "thorn in the foot" to the government of the
Archdukes. Queen Elizabeth, whose defeats of Philip's armadas had made
England mistress of the seas, was determined that Spain should not
regain so important a strategic base, and had kept an English garrison
there under an English commander. Since Albert's accession the town
had been greatly strengthened by new ramparts, bastions and
fortifications of every type, then known in the engineering art of
warfare. To protect Flanders against this hostile fortress in its very
midst the Archdukes were obliged to erect eighteen forts around
Ostende and keep them constantly garrisoned and supplied. This cost
ninety thousand crowns a month and kept the rich province in a state
of perpetual war. Towns in the vicinity were compelled to pay tribute
in order to escape pillage, and commerce--then, as always, dependent
upon peace--languished.

The Estates of Flanders under these direful conditions offered the
Archdukes three hundred thousand florins a month as long as the siege
to rid them of this menacing stronghold might last, and three hundred
thousand florins additional as a bonus to be paid in instalments--a
third when the city was invested, a third when a breach was made in
the fortifications, and the balance when the place was taken. These
terms are curiously similar to those employed in drawing building
loans at the present day and show that the Flemings had lost none of
their ancient caution.

On July 5th, 1601, the Archduke Albert arrived before Ostende and
formally began its investment. The Infanta Isabella came with him,
and often shared camp life with her husband during the weary months
that followed. The siege from the very first developed into a contest
of engineers and military strategists on the taking and the defence of
fortified places the like of which had never before been known in
Europe. In fact nearly all Europe was directly engaged in the
conflict. On the Archdukes' side were Spaniards, Italians and
Walloons; on the ramparts of the defenders were lined up side by side
English, Dutch, French, German and Scotch forces. The fortress was
commanded by Sir Francis Vere. The operations of the siege consisted
of mining and counter-mining, the erection and destruction of
batteries, storming of outlying works--all the devices of attack and
defence known to the military science of the day. Never before had the
world seen such cannons and engines of destruction. The siege became
Homeric, epic, a seventeenth-century Siege of Troy.

The great difficulty of the besiegers was their inability to cut off
the town from receiving new provisions and supplies, and a constant
stream of reinforcements, by sea. The Dutch, English and French ships
came and went almost at will. All the summer and fall of 1601 the
siege dragged on, and through the cold winter that followed. In 1602
Sir Francis Vere and a large part of the garrison were relieved and a
new commander and garrison installed without the Archdukes being able
to prevent the manoeuvre. In 1603 Ambrose, the Marquis Spinola, a
young scion of a rich Genoese family, offered to take charge of the
siege of Ostende and to capture the city. As the Archduke Albert had
made a complete failure of the job, and was unpopular besides among
his troops, whom he had not been able to pay with any regularity, he
welcomed this offer and Spinola assumed the command. His wealth
enabled him to pay and feed his soldiers, while his youth and ambition
made him a wary and energetic commander. Day and night he took part in
person in supervising the mines, assaults, trenches and erection of
new positions. Gradually, under his vigorous leadership, the besiegers
began to burrow their way into the town. Maurice of Nassau, unable to
pierce Spinola's network of entrenchments around the town created a
diversion by besieging and capturing Sluys. In spite of this, however,
Spinola clung doggedly to his prey and on September 13th, 1603, Sand
Hill, after a resistance of three years, was captured. Seven days
later the Governor, who now controlled nothing but the heart of the
town, capitulated and on September 22nd, the garrison marched out with
all the honours of war. Hardly a soul of the former population of
Ostende remained at the time of its capture, and it is said that the
Archduchess Isabella "wept at the sight of the mound of earth, all
that remained of the city which she had been so anxious to capture."
It was estimated that the place, which had been little more than a
village, cost the besiegers one hundred thousand lives and the
defenders sixty thousand. The siege had lasted three years, two months
and seventeen days, but the "thorn" had at last been extracted.

For several years after this Ostende remained a city without
inhabitants, the Archdukes rebuilding the place but population coming
to it but slowly. In 1722 The East and West India Company of the
Austrian Netherlands was founded at Ostende, chiefly by Antwerp
capitalists and merchants, who were deeply interested in the
enterprise. Factories were established in India, but the Emperor
Charles VI dissolved the company in 1731 in order to secure English
and Dutch support for his Pragmatic Sanction. The next century was one
of stagnation, the town reverting to a fishing-place, but almost at
the moment of Belgian independence--or from about 1830--it began to be
renowned as a watering-place. It owes much of its present prosperity
to Leopold II, who made it a place of royal residence during the
summer, and whose royal palace still looks down upon the _Digue_ not
far from the racetrack. The coming of the cross-channel steamers still
further stimulated its growth, and at present it is one of the most
beautiful and picturesque of all the Flemish cities.

Our visit was unfortunate--as we regretfully told one another at the
time--in that it came in July, before the season had really opened.
August is the time to come, the waiters and hotel porters all assured
us, for then the Grand Dukes come from Russia, the long special trains
from Germany roll in one after another loaded to capacity, the Channel
steamers arrive three times a day with decks black with English
tourists, and Ostende's many kinds of gaiety are in full swing.
However, the opening of the August season in 1914 was conducted under
circumstances that made us rather glad we were there in July. The
Germans came, to be sure, but the gaiety departed.

No one in Ostende foresaw a bit of the terrible future when we were
there in July. The long curving beach was crowded with people,
little people for the most part, and most of the queer little
beach-houses--summer cottages on wheels--were gradually getting
rented. The beach is splendidly broad and smooth, but the slope
seaward is so slight that at low tide one must needs go very far out
to get into the water at all. This did not seem to trouble anybody
very much, for we saw few who ever went near the water, most of the
pleasure-seekers staying on the warm, dry sand up near the big sloping
sea wall of the _Digue_. For families with small children the little
summer-houses seemed rather attractive, as papa and mamma could sit
within, sheltered from sun or rain, while the youngsters rollicked all
day long in the deep sand.

The _Digue_ just mentioned is a high artificial seawall or embankment,
faced with sloping stone on the sea side and surmounted by a broad
boulevard--the Esplanade. It slopes gradually on the landward side,
one row of stately hotels and lodging-houses facing directly on the
Esplanade, while on the side streets the buildings drop each below the
other until they reach the level of the town, which is some forty or
fifty feet lower than the summit of the embankment. Here the
fashionable crowds promenade at the proper times, while the
unfashionable promenade all day long and far into the night. Even in
July the sight is a most fascinating one, and the Bohemianism of the
crowd and its diversity of national types most interesting. Here, as
everywhere in Belgium, the cafés and hotels place their tables and
chairs far out into the roadway, so that we can sit outdoors in the
manner that the Madame so much enjoys and eat our dinner, or sip our
coffee and cognac, while watching the ever-changing crowds go by.

At Ostende the scale of expenses for everything, rooms, meals,
service, pleasure, cigars, tips, and even for the English newspapers,
increases or falls according to the proximity or remoteness of the
_Digue_. If you are on top of it--look out! To Americans the
charges, even in the finer big hotels, do not seem particularly
excessive--though in August they are usually much higher than in
July--but there is a constant succession of incidental expenses that
make the voyager as a rule hurry more than once to the banker where
his letter of credit can have another illegible notation made on it.
Externally the hotels are very imposing and stately--making a brave
show as one looks down the long line that extends for several miles
from the harbour entrance westward to Westende and beyond half way to
Nieuport. Within they are pretty much like all Belgian hotels of the
better class. For the novelty of the thing we thought of renting one
of the tiny _apartements meublés_, that, each with a charming broad
window--usually open all day long like a piazza--look out directly
upon the sea. The price was a thousand francs a month, which seemed
too much for what was after all little more than one big room with an
alcove. The landlady informed us that she attended to all the details
of the _ménage_, cooking and serving the meals and providing maid
service, but that messieurs must provide the provisions, both solid
and liquid.

The great show place of Ostende is, of course, the Kursaal, a huge
structure of glass, iron and stone belonging to no particular school
of architecture, but in the main making a pleasing impression and
serving very well indeed for the somewhat diversified uses for which
it is intended. In the daytime the Kursaal is a place of relatively
little interest, although well-dressed people flock through it at all
hours. At night it is the scene of much animation, and is, as it was
meant to be, the centre of the gay life of the town. A large
orchestra gives a concert every evening in a very pretty concert hall,
which, when we were there, contained numerous little tables for
refreshments, although I have seen pictures in which the room was
filled with seats in solid rows, like a theatre. It was much more
comfortable the way we found it, and the concert was very enjoyable.
At the intermission, however, we observed that nearly everybody rose
and flocked off into an anteroom leading out of the concert hall. The
Professor and I decided that there appeared to be "something doing" in
that direction and followed the crowd, leaving the ladies to look
after our wraps, and promising to return and get them if we found
anything worth while.

I fear that the narrative of our experience may sound a bit like an
extract from _Innocents Abroad_, but I will relate the thing as it
happened and make no pretence that we were a bit more sophisticated
than we really were. The crowd seemed to be headed through a long and
handsome corridor toward a distant room. We followed along, passing on
the way what looked more or less like the office of a hotel, with a
register book and two or three clerks, to which we paid no attention.
Arrived at the end of the corridor we found ourselves in a large
circular room around which were a number of small tables on which
visitors were rolling balls down toward a group of pockets--some such
a game as one sees at Coney Island or any popular American amusement
resort. The price was two francs for three shots, and barkers were
shouting lustily to all comers to try their luck. On one side a
doorway was heavily curtained with velvet draperies and here
occasional groups of the guests were silently disappearing. We
approached this mysterious passageway and sought to pass like the
others when two tiny lads in brilliant livery demanded our cards. On
our replying that we had none, a large man, also in livery, appeared
from somewhere behind the draperies and courteously informed us that
special membership or admission cards were required from all who
wished to proceed further.

We thereupon returned to the ladies and reported what we had seen, and
took our turn at looking after the wraps while they visited the
circular room. They likewise returned, reporting that admission beyond
the curtains had been refused. After the concert was over we decided
to make another attempt--as both the Professor and I surmised what
attraction lay beyond the mysterious portal. Pausing at the hotel
office we had previously noticed, we asked bluntly how admission to
the hidden room could be secured, and were told that a card would be
given each of us on the sole formality of registering. This we
accordingly did, giving our names, hotel address, home address and one
reference. This done, we each received a card admitting two and
departed to find the Madame and Mrs. Professor.

Arriving at the doorway armed with the cards we had received, we were
ushered at once into a very handsome room where perhaps three hundred
people were gathered about half a dozen roulette tables. No one paid
the slightest attention to us, nor did any employé appear to care
whether we played or contented ourselves with merely looking on.
Practically every one in the room, however, was playing--with all the
tense earnestness that this game of chance seems to impress upon its
devotees. White chips, we observed, cost five francs, reds twenty,
round blues a hundred--or twenty dollars. There were, in addition, a
large ovalshaped blue, marked five hundred and an oblong one marked
one thousand. In less than three minutes one player lost eight of the
thousand franc chips, and then, this being apparently enough for
the evening, lit a cigar and started for home. While he was playing we
observed an over-painted young woman who had just lost her last stake
solicit a loan from him. He tossed the girl a hundred-franc chip and
left without pausing to see whether she won or lost with it. We were
more curious. She lost.

[Illustration: THE "SALLE DES JEUX" IN THE KURSAAL, OSTENDE.]

At about this period of the evening the Madame raised a commotion by
discovering that her reticule was open and a piece of money had fallen
out onto the thick carpet. The Professor and I instantly got down to
look for it, and even the croupiers at the adjoining gaming table
paused to take in the incident. Two or three attendants and waiters
hurried up to help when the Madame spied her lost coin and
triumphantly seized it. It was a one centime piece--worth a fifth of a
cent! I have never seen a more disgusted-looking group of attendants,
and doubt if so small a coin had ever been seen before in this
northern Monte Carlo. The Madame, however, was serenely indifferent to
their opinion. This was the nearest, I may add, that we came to losing
any money there.

At the end of the Esplanade is the Estacade, a pier that extends well
out to sea. Pleasure steamers start here for short trips along the
coast, and turning to the right at this end of the town one comes to
the harbour and the broad basin where hundreds of little brown-sailed
shrimp fishing-boats congregate. Several of these came in while we
were there and sold their cargoes, almost as soon as they were tied
up, to groups of eager market-women with big baskets. Several girls
sat along the quay wall mending huge nets also used in the shrimp
fishery. The little back streets in this vicinity, and around the
quaint fish-market, are the oldest in the town--and the most crooked.

The principal business street of the little city is the rue de Flandre
and its continuation, the rue de la Chapelle, which together take one
from the Digue de Mer straight to the railway and boat stations. On
one side of this street is the Place d'Armes, where a military band
played every evening, and facing which is the Hotel de Ville. Our last
day was spent poking about this part of the town in a pouring rain,
with an occasional peep into huge cafés designed to accommodate a
thousand guests, but which were then almost deserted. The rain ceased
suddenly toward nightfall and we returned to the Digue for a farewell
look at the crowds and the long beach. It was night before we had
seen enough, and then, after ordering and enjoying to the utmost our
last Flemish dinner, we made our way to the Gare Maritime to take the
night boat for Dover. As we steamed out past the long Estacade and
looked back upon the gleaming lights along the Digue we saw the moon
rising redly above the masts in the little harbour. This was our last
view of Flanders, and, as we regretfully saw the lights of the city
sink out of sight behind the tossing waves that gleamed brightly under
the moonbeams, we knew that our pilgrimage was over.

CHAPTER XXII

THE SPELL OF FLANDERS

In this little book the author has endeavoured to portray as clearly
as his limited powers of expression permitted, some of the many
elements that make the spell that Flanders lays upon the minds and
hearts of those who know it and love it well. It is a complex
influence, composed of many and widely diverse factors. If in the
narrative a thread of history has been permitted to obtrude itself,
sometimes perhaps at undue length, it is because before all else
Flanders is a land whose interest lies in its long and romantic
history, and in the marvellous manner in which its artists and
sculptors have portrayed its famous past. As Mr. Griffis in "Belgium,
the Land of Art," has well expressed it, "No other land is richer in
history or more affluent in art than is Belgium. In none have devout,
industrious, patriotic and gifted sons told their country's story more
attractively. By pen and in print, on canvas, in mural decoration, in
sculpture, in monuments of bronze and marble, in fireplaces and in
wood-carving, the story may be read as in an illuminated missal.
Belfries, town halls, churches, guild houses, have each and all a
charm of their own." If these pages have caught ever so little of that
charm they have served their purpose.

To the student of history, of art and architecture, of tapestry and
lace-making, of the origin of the great woollen and linen industries,
of guilds and the organisation of labour, of the commune or municipal
republic in its earliest and finest development, and--before all
else--of liberty in its age-long conflict with tyranny and oppression,
Flanders is a land of endless interest and inspiration. Nowhere else
in the world can there be found within so small a compass so many
monuments of the past, so many of the milestones of human progress.
That some of these relate to a past so remote as to be all but
forgotten, while others are hidden away in spots where few tourists
ever penetrate, only enhances the pleasure of those who are so
persevering or so fortunate as to find them.

Like rare wine, Flanders has mellowed with age, the storms and
sunshine of succeeding centuries touching its fine old houses, its
noble churches and splendid town halls and guild houses but
lightly--imparting the majesty of antiquity without the sadness of
decay. Its dramatic and tragic history--some of which was so terrible
in the making--lives again, without the old-time rancour and hatred,
as the foundation upon which artists with chisel, brush or pen have
created some of the finest of the world's masterpieces.

That to-day Flanders has once more, as so often in the past, become
the battleground of warring Europe gives an element of inexpressible
sadness to these feeble attempts to sketch its glories as they were
only a few short months ago. Already some of the splendid monuments
described in these pages have been shattered by engines of war more
destructive than all those of all former wars taken together. The
noble Hotel de Ville at Ypres, the fine old church of St. Nicholas at
Dixmude, the incomparable cathedral of Malines--we know that these at
least have suffered fearfully, that they may have been injured beyond
any hope of restoration.

In this last sad chapter of Flemish history, it is a pleasure to be
able to record the fact that the people of the United States have for
the first time entered its pages--and in a work of mercy. To the
American people have been given the opportunity, the means and the
disposition to play a noble part in this later history of much
troubled Flanders--to feed the starving, care for the widowed and
orphaned non-combatants of the great war, to help bind up the nation's
wounds and restore hope and courage to its fearfully afflicted people.
This is our part in the history of Flanders--our duty to the people of
the brave nation of which Flanders forms so important and so famous a
part. May all of those on whom the spell of Flanders falls do their
share, however small, to help in this great work so long as the need
lasts!

And when the great war is over let no American tourist omit Flanders
from his or her European itinerary. Its churches and town halls, its
quaint crooked streets and sixteenth-century houses, have received a
new and greater baptism of fire that has made them, one and all,
shrines to which every lover of liberty should make a pilgrimage. Even
the pleasant Belgian fields, with their bright poppies and corn
flowers, have a more profound interest now that so many of them have
been stained with a deeper red than the poppies ever gave.

THE END

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-- La Furie Espagnole, in Annales de l'Académie d'Archéologie
d' Anvers.

GEFFROY, GUSTAVE: Les Musées d'Europe: La Belgique.

GILLIAT-SMITH, ERNEST: The Story of Bruges.

GORDON, PRYSE L.: Belgium and Holland.

GRIFFIS, W. E.: Belgium the Land of Art.

HAGGARD, A. C. P.: Louis XI and Charles the Bold.
-- Two Great Rivals (François I and Charles V).

HAVARD, HENRY: La Flandre a vol d'oiseau.

HOLLAND, CLIVE: Belgians at Home.

HYMANS, HENRI: Anvers, in Les Villes d'Art célèbres.
-- Bruges et Ypres, in same series.
-- Gand et Tournai, in same series.

JAMESON, MRS. ANNA BROWNELL: Sacred and Legendary Art.
-- Legends of the Madonnas.
-- Legends of the Monastic Orders.

KERVYN DE LETTENHOVE: Huguenots et Gueux.
-- La Flandre pendant les trois derniers Siècles.

KINTSCHOTS, L.: Anvers et ses Faubourgs.

KIRK, J. F.: History of Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy.

KLINGENSTEIN, L.: The Great Infanta Isabel.

MAC DONNELL, JOHN DE COURCY: Belgium, her Kings, Kingdom
and People.

MICHIELS, A.: Rubens et l'École d'Anvers.

MOTLEY, JOHN LOTHROP: The Rise of the Dutch Republic.
-- History of the United Netherlands.

NAMÉCHE: Histoire Nationale de la Belgique.

OMOND, GEORGE W. T.: Brabant and East Flanders.
-- Belgium.

PIRENNE, H.: Histoire de la Belgique.

REIFFENBURG: Mémoire sur le Commerce des Pays-Bas au XVe
et au XVIe Siècle.
-- Histoire de l'Ordre de la Toison d'Or.

ROBERTSON, WILLIAM: History of the Reign of the Emperor,
Charles the Fifth.

ROBINSON, WILFRID C.: Antwerp, an Historical Sketch.

ROOSES, MAX: Art in Flanders.
-- Christophe Plantin, Imprimeur anversois.
-- Catalogue du Musée Plantin-Moretus.
-- Geschiedenis de Antwerpsche schilderschool.

ROYAL ACADEMY OF BELGIUM: Biographie Nationale.

SCHAYES, A. G. B.: Histoire de Architecture en Belgique.

SCOTT, SIR WALTER: Quentin Durward.

SCUDAMORE, CYRIL: Belgium and the Belgians.

SINGLETON, ESTHER: Art of the Belgian Galleries.

SKRINE, FRANCIS HENRY: Fontenoy and the War of the Austrian
Succession.

SMYTHE, C.: The Story of Belgium.

STEPHENS, F. G.: Flemish Relics.

STRADA, FAMIANO: De Bello Belgico (in French, Histoire de
la Guerre de Flandre).

THORPE, BENJAMIN: Netherlandish Traditions, in his Northern
Mythology.

TREMAYNE, ELEANOR E.: The First Governess of the Netherlands,
Margaret of Austria.

VAN DE VYVERE, PAUL: Audenaerde et ses Monuments.

VILBORT, JOSEPH: Renaissance de la Littérature flamande, les
Romans non traduits de Henri Conscience.

WAAGEN: Handbook of Painting in the German, Flemish and
Dutch Schools.

WAUTERS, PROFESSOR A. J.: The Flemish School of Painting.

ZIMMERN, H.: The Hansa Towns.

INDEX

Aardenburg, 59.

Adornes, Anselm and John, of Bruges, 309.

Adrian of Utrecht, 341.

Agincourt, Battle of, 220.

Agrippa, Cornelius, 341.

Aire, seized by Philip Augustus, 135.

Albert, Archduke, and Regent of Spanish Netherlands, defeated in
Battle of the Dunes, 96-98;
portrait by Rubens, 441;
arrival at Antwerp, 447;
welcomes Rubens, 448; 457;
siege of Ostende, 465-469.

Albert I, King of the Belgians, makes headquarters at Furnes in the
Great War, 87;
continues wise policies of predecessors, 462;
peace and contentment under reign of, 462-463.

Alençon, Duke of, 419.

Alfred the Great, taught by Judith, afterwards Countess of Flanders,
26;
daughter Alfrida marries Baldwin II, 24; 182.

Alfrida, daughter of Alfred the Great, 34; 182.

Allen, Grant, "Belgium, its Cities," cited, 235.

Allowin, afterwards St. Bavon, 181-182.

Alost, seized by Spanish mutineers, 415.

Alsace, revolts against tyranny of Charles the Bold, 289.

Alva, Duke of, recommends destruction of Ghent, 352;
made Regent of Spanish Netherlands, 381; 386;
policy a failure, 414-415; 416;
citadel and statue demolished, 418-419; 447.

Amiens, repulses Charles the Bold, 289; 326.

Angelo, Michael, Virgin and Child at Bruges, 51;
compared with Rubens, 438.

Antigonus, legend of, 393-394.

Antoing, village near Fontenoy, 253; 255-256.

Antwerp, an experience in, 8-11;
crippled by closing of the Scheldt, 18-19;
first view of, 20-21; 71; 170; 228;
"_Ville d'Art_," 268;
painting by Van der Weyden at, 272;
works by Memling at, 299;
merchants leave Bruges for, 300; 312;
"renowned for its money," 320; 323; 324;
Cathedral spire completed, 339-340;
"monuments" classified, 363;
legend of Antigonus and Brabo, 393-394;
Scheldt displaces the Zwyn as a highway of commerce, 394-395;
under Dukes of Brabant, 395-397;
under Dukes of Burgundy, 397-398;
_Vielle Boucherie_ and Steen, 399;
new trade routes favour city, 399-401;
Quentin Matsys, 401-403;
other early Antwerp painters, 403-405;
legends of the Long Wapper, Kludde, etc., 405-410;
prosperity under Charles V, 411;
outbreak of the iconoclasts, 412-413;
failure of the Duke of Alva, 414-415;
the "Spanish Fury," 415-418;
citadel and statue of Alva demolished, 418-419;
the "French Fury," 419;
the great siege, 419-422;
ruin resulting from the Fury and the siege, 422-423;
the great printing house of Plantin-Moretus, 423-437;
home of Rubens, 438-439;
Cathedral, description of, 439-442;
life and achievements of Rubens, 442-447;
mild government of Archdukes, 447-448;
Van Dyck, 449-452;
Quellin, Jordaens, David Teniers and lesser Antwerp artists,
452-455;
Royal Museum of Fine Arts, 455-456;
Hotel de Ville, 456-457;
later history from the Archdukes to the Great War, 457-463.

Archery contests in Belgium, 105-110.

Ardennes, 130.

Arenburg, Duke of, 211.

Arnolfini, Jean, and wife, portraits of, by Jean Van Eyck, 340.

Arnulph the Great, strengthens Flemish cities, 35;
founds St. Donatian's at Bruges, 35.

Arras, Treaty of 1191, 189;
Treaty of 1435, 222-223;
tapestry workers organised, 230;
tapestries of, 278-279;
starting point otapestry weaving, 385.

Artois, Count of, besieges Furnes, 90;
leads French at Battle of the Spurs, 157;
death, 159; 160;
County of Artois ceded to France, 189.

Audenaerde, tapestries, 5;
guildsmen from at Battle of the Spurs, 157; 202;
siege of by Philip Van Artevelde, 208;
besieged bPhilip the Bold, 218;
besieged by men from Ghent, 225;
Louis XI drives tapestry weavers from Arras to, 278;
tapestry ateliers specialise in pastoral scenes, 279;
country around, described, 367-368;
monument to volunteers who died in Mexico, 369-370;
description of Hotel de Ville, 370-376;
birthplace of Margaret of Parma, 377;
communal museum in Hotel de Ville, 381-382;
Cloth Hall, 382-383;
church of Ste. Walburge, 383-385;
tapestry weaving at, 385-387;
church of Notre Dame de Pamela, 387-389;
Château de Bourgogne, 390;
many religious institutions of, 390;
sieges and battles of the past, 391-392; 413.

Austria, War of the Austrian Succession, 250;
Austrian troops at Fontenoy, 251;
arms of, at Audenaerde, 373;
Flanders during Warof the Austrian Succession, 458;
under Austrian Empire, 458-459.

Auxerre, marriage of Baldwin I and Judith in 863, 26.

Baldwin of Constantinople, Count of Flanders, 129-139;
painting of, at Courtrai, 152; 153; 162; 189; 197;
portrait of, 373.

Baldwin of the Iron Arm, first Count of Flanders, 26;
remains of old Bourg, 27;
traces of chapel, 28; 55-56; 57; 218.

Baldwin II, marries Alfrida, 34;
fortifies Flemish towns, 34-35; 182.

Baldwin V, Count of Flanders, tower of, at Audenaerde, 376.

Baldwin VIII, signs Treaty of Arras, 189.

Basina, marriage to Childeric at Tournai, 246-247; 265.

Basinus, King of the Thuringians, 246.

Battle of the Spurs, 58; 119;
account of, 156-160; 177; 191;
effects of, 192-193; 196; 224; 314.

Bazaine, Marshal of France, 370.

Beaconsfield, Lord, quoted, 251.

Beaune, painting by Van der Weyden at, 271.

Beauvais, repulses Charles the Bold, 289; 387.

Béguinage, at Bruges, 33-36;
origin of institution, 34-35;
Grand Béguinage at Ghent, 35;
description of, 209-213;
Petit Béguinage at Ghent, 210;
at Audenaerde, 390.

Belfry, at Bruges, built above the Boterbeke, 27;
history and description of, 63-67;
at Courtrai, 147-148;
at Ghent, 184;
description of, 195-198;
at Tournai, description of, 262-263;
at Bruges, completed under Margaret of Austria, 340.

Belgian coast, 16;
Belgian barbers, 44-46;
Belgian State Railway train service, 79-83;
Belgian popular sports, 105-115;
Belgian thrift, 216-217;
Belgian State Railway, working peoples' trains, 242-245.

Bellegambe, 274.

Bergues, canal from Nieuport to, 104.

Berthout, Gauthier, Bishop of Malines, 312.

Berthout, Jean, Bishop of Malines, 314.

Bertulph, Provost of St. Donatian, 37;
executed at Ypres, 40-41.

Bicycle racing in Belgium, 111-112.

_Billets d'abonnement_, 3; 79;
for working-people, 242-243.

Biloque (or Biloke) Hospital at Ghent, 209.

Bladelin, Peter, town house at Bruges, 309;
founder of Middleburg, 309.

Blankenberghe, from the sea, 16;
part of the Franc of Bruges, 59; 324.

Blasère, William de, constructs first hothouse at Ghent, 356.

Blaton, 368.

Blondeel, Lancelot, 61.

Blücher, 359.

Bosch, Jerome, 341; 405.

Botanical Garden at Malines, 316;
at Ghent, 356-358.

Boterbeke River, intersection with the Roya, 26;
subterranean channel of, 27.

Boulger, "History of Belgium," quoted, 293.

Bouts, Dierick, life and principal works, 307-309; 341; 401.

Bouvines, Battle of, 136.

Brabant, Duchy of, 137;
united to Flanders by marriages of Cambrai, 218-219;
Philip the Good becomes Duke of, 221;
Duke of, at siege of Tournai, 249; 286;
Dukes of, contend with Counts of Flanders for Malines, 315;
Dukes of, rule over Antwerp, 395-397.

Brabo, legend of, 393-394.

Braekeleer, Henri de, "Nursery Garden" in Antwerp Museum, 456.

Braine-le-Comte, Flemish name for, 150.

Brauwer, Adrian, 454.

Breidel, John, Dean of Butchers' Guild at Bruges, 154;
at the Matin de Bruges 155-156;
at the Battle of Courtrai, 157-160.

Breughel, Peter the Elder, principal works and characteristics,
404-405.

_Brioches_, 46.

Britto, Jean, printer at Bruges, 58.

Broederlam, Melchior, early painter of Ypres, 230-231.

Broel Towers at Courtrai, 164.

Brou, in Savoy, 335-336.

Bruges, repels Philip the Good in 1437, 4;
murder of Charles the Good, 4-5 and 36-42;
lace makers at, 5;
the first capital of Flanders, 13;
first visit to, 24;
founding of, 26;
derivation of name, 26-27;
_Vieux Bruges_ (old Bruges), 27-28;
more tourists than formerly, 30;
some quaint old streets, 31;
lacemakers on rue du Rouleau, 32;
fortified by Baldwin II, 34;
from Charles the Good to Marie of Burgundy, 52-53;
charter granted by Philip of Alsace, 55;
description of Hotel de Ville, 57-59;
Belfry and chimes, 65-67;
_Halles_, description of, 67-68;
period of greatest commercial activity, 68-70;
silting up of the Zwyn, 70-71;
Baldwin of Constantinople holds court at, 137;
artisans from Ypres move to, 145;
revolt against the French, 154;
visit of King of France, 155;
the Matin de Bruges, 155-156;
guildsmen from Bruges at Battle of the Spurs, 157; 171;
superseded by Ghent as capital of Flanders, 189; 190; 192; 197;
influence of Jacques Van Artevelde in, 200;
capital of Louis of Maele, 205; 210;
Philip the Good establishes Order of the Golden Fleece, 221-222;
the Bruges Vespers, 223-224;
the "Great Humiliation," 224-225;
Guild of St. Luke organised, 229-230;
Jehan de Bruges, 230;
"_Ville d'Art_," 268; 277;
principal capital of Charlesthe Bold, 287;
marriage of Maximilian and Marie of Burgundy, 294;
Memling at Bruges, 294-299;
Gheerhardt David, 299-300;
other early Flemish painters, 300-302;
the Gruuthuise Palace, 302-305;
Cathedral of St. Sauveur, 305-307;
other fine old mediæval buildings, 309-310; 312;
"renowned for its pretty girls," 321; 323;
Treaty of Cambrai, 338-339;
Belfry completed under Margaret of Austria, 340; 344;
paintings by Van der Goes, 362;
"monuments" classified, 363; 366; 393; 394; 397; 398;
attempt to close the Scheldt, 399-400; 401; 434; 448; 456.

Brunehault, rival of Fredegonda, 247-248.

Brussels, 9;
relation to Flanders, 12-13;
more French than Flemish, 13;
weather at, 22-23;
passage through, 24; 150; 170; 219;
Hotel de Ville built by Philip the Good, 228;
tapestry workers organised, 230;
part of the "Adoration of the Lamb" in Museum, 238; 243;
work of Van der Weyden at, 271;
"Abdication of Charles V," by Gallait at, 273;
Stallaert's "Death of Dido" at, 274;
tapestry weavers of Arras driven to, 278;
extorts privileges from Charles the Bold, 287;
works by Memling at, 299;
works by Dierick Bouts at, 308;
"renowned for its noble men," 321; 324; 339;
Cathedral of Ste. Gudule erected, 340;
manuscripts of Margaret of Austria in Bibliotheque Royale, 342;
Marie of Hungary removes capital to, 342; 351; 359;
"Madness of Hugo Van der Goes" in the Modern Gallery, 361;
portrait of Charles the Bold by Van der Goes, 362; 367; 368;
Henri Van Péde architect of Hotel de Ville, 371;
"Legend of St. Anne," by Quentin Matsys, 403; 443; 444;
Modern Gallery compared with Royal Museum at Antwerp, 456; 464.

Burgundy, Dukes of, 4; 17; 174;
the marriages of Cambrai, 218-219;
power extended by Treaty of Arras, 222-223;
further extended at Péronne, 288;
defeated by Swiss at Granson, Morat and Nancy, 290-292;
Kingdom of Burgundy almost established, 293; 315; 351;
early château at Audenaerde, 390; 395;
acquire Antwerp, 398;
tyranny of, 462.

Byzantine Emperors, coins of, found at Tournai, 265.

Caen, Normandy, Plantin learns art of printing in, 423; 424.

Cæsar, Julius, 245; 393.

Calais, siege of by Philip the Good, 223.

Calloo, 399; 420; 421.

Calvinists, partially destroy Abbey of St. Bavon, 184;
propose to present "Adoration of the Lamb" to Queen Elizabeth,
237.

Cambrai, 61;
Marriages of, 218-219;
League of, 337;
Treaty of, 338-339; 351.

Campin, Robert, early painter of Tournai, 270; 273; 274.

Carnot, Gen., defence of Antwerp, 460.

Cassel, captured by Philip Augustus, 135.

Castle of the Counts (Château des Comtes), at Ghent, 170-179;
stormed by Jacques Van Artevelde, 200;
birthplace of John of Gaunt, 201; 233; 262;
Liévin Pyn tortured at, 349.

Caxton, William, learns printing at Bruges, 228.

Çayas, Gabriel de, patron of Christopher Plantin, 424;
interests Philip II in _Biblia Regia_, 426.

Chapel of the Holy Blood at Bruges, crypt of St. Basil, 27-28;
receives relic from Dierick of Alsace, 55-56;
Procession and _Confrerie_, 56;
ruined during French Revolution, 56-57;
restoration, 57; 58.

Charlemagne, breaking up of empire of, 26.

Charles the Bald, creates title of Count of Flanders, 26.

Charles the Bold, 3;
tomb at Bruges, 51-53;
betrothal at Damme, 75-77; 124; 271;
meteoric career and death, 285-294; 295; 302; 305; 310; 333; 344;
portrait of, 362.

Charles I, King of England, knights Rubens, 448;
employs Van Dyck as court painter, 451-452.

Charles V, the Emperor, 52; 62;
statue at Courtrai, 152;
destroys Abbey of St. Bavon, 183-184;
orders bell Roland removed, 197;
captures Tournai, 249;
"Abdication of," painting by Louis Gallait, 273; 292;
christened, 335;
educated by Margaret of Austria, 336;
becomes King of Spain, 337;
elected King of the Romans, 338;
chosen Emperor, 338;
rejoicings at Ghent over birth of, 346;
vast extent of dominions at age of twenty, 346-347; 348;
revolt of Ghent in 1539, 349-350;
withdraws all the city's ancient privileges, 350-355;
origin of Butchers' Guild of Ghent, 365;
portrait of, at Audenaerde, 373;
many reminders of, at Audenaerde, 374;
inserts spectacles in arms of Audenaerde, 373;
statue of, 375;
portrait of, 376;
father of Margaret of Parma, 377-378; 381; 395;
aids prosperity of Antwerp, 411; 412;
great bell at Antwerp named for, 441.

Charles the Good, murder of, 4-5 and 36-42;
rebuilds Cathedral of St. Sauveur, 47;
erects part of church of Notre Dame, 50;
Bruges in the days of, 52-53; 54; 305.

Charles VI, Emperor of Austria, 458; 469.

Charles VI, King of France, sacks Courtrai, 161-162;
wins battle of Rosbecque, 207; 218.

Charles VII, King of France, concludes Treaty of Arras, 222-223.

Charles VIII, King of France, 334.

Charolais, Count of, 233.

Chateaubriand, minister of Louis XVIII, 358.

Childeric, marriage with Basina at Tournai, 246-247;
incidents in life of, carved on portal of the Cathedral, 260;
relics of, discovered, 264-265; 281.

Chilperic, King of the Franks, 247;
besieged at Tournai, 248; 281.

Chimes, at Bruges, 65-67;
at Malines, 322-325;
at Audenaerde, 381;
at Antwerp, 440.

Christus, Petrus, early painter of Bruges, 240.

Claire, Lord, at Battle of Fontenoy, 254.

Clauwaerts, partisans of Flemish independence, 154;
Jacques Van Artevelde, leader of, 199.

Clays, P. J., 456.

Clovis, King of the Franks, 247.

_Concession Caroline_, promulgated by Charles V in 1540, 355.

Columbus, discovery of America helps Antwerp, 400.

Condé, defeats French under Turenne, 95.

Conscience, Hendryk, Flemish novelist, 36.

Conynck, Peter de, Dean of Weavers at Bruges, 154;
leader at the Matin de Bruges, 155-156;
at Battle of Courtrai, 157-160; 193.

Coolman, Gauthier, 319.

Cornelis, Albert, early painter of Bruges, 301.

Cortés, 347.

Counts of Flanders, rule over part of France, 12;
origin of County, 25;
the first Count, Baldwin of the Iron Arm, 26;
model of first castle, 28;
Emperor makes title hereditary, 34; 54; 151;
castle of, at Ghent, 170-179;
foster Abbey of St. Bavon, 182;
make Ghent their capital, 189;
decline in power of, 190;
weakness after Battle of the Spurs, 192-193;
obtain temporal power over Malines, 315; 351;
Scheldt their frontier, 394-395.

Courtrai, linens, 5;
fortified by Baldwin II, 34; 58;
destroyed by Philip Augustus, 136;
lace makers at, 141; 146;
Belfry, 147-148;
Hotel de Ville, 151-153;
Battle of Courtrai, 152-160;
churches of, 161-163;
Broel towers at, 164; 193; 314.

Coxcie, Michel, 237; 238; 339; 341; 386.

Coxyde, dunes at, 92-93;
_pêcheurs de crevettes_, 93.

Crayer, Gaspard de, 384;
religious pictures of, 453.

Crécy, Battle of, 203.

Crispin, 431.

Crowe and Cavalcaselle, "The Early Flemish Painters," cited, 235.

_Cuches au beurre_, 46-47.

Cumberland, Duke of, defeated at Fontenoy, 251-255.

Damme, receives charter from Philip of Alsace, 55;
birth of Van Maerlant (mural painting), 59;
period of prosperity and present aspect, 72-75;
betrothal of Margaret of York by Charles the Bold, 76-77;
destroyed by Philip Augustus, 135;
rallying place for Clauwaerts before the Matin de Bruges, 155;
destroyed by Philip the Bold, 219.

Danes, invasions of, 34.

Daret, Jacques, early painter of Tournai; 270; 273.

David, Gheerhardt, life and principal works, 299-300.

Davis, Thomas Osborne, poet, "Battle of Fontenoy" quoted, 253-255.

Delbeke, Louis, 123.

Deledicque, Antony, 139.

Delvin, Jean, 93.

Dendermonde (Termonde), 202; 310.

Denucé, assistant curator of Plantin Museum, 434.

Denyn, Josef, official bell ringer at Malines, 323-324; 440.

Denys, Gérard, Dean of Weavers at Ghent, 204.

Devreese, Godefroid, sculptor of Courtrai, 165.

Dierick of Alsace, Count of Flanders, 54;
wise rule, 54-55;
brings Holy Blood from Jerusalem, 55-56; 59; 129; 171;
besieges ancient castle at Ghent, 177;
portrait of, 373.

Dierick, Lord of Dixmude, legendary hero, 179.

Dijon, capital of Burgundy, 148;
paintings by Melchior Broederlam at, 230-231;
"The Last Judgment" by Van der Weyden, at Beaune, 271; 287.

Dinant, 277; 286.

Dixmude, at time of the Crusades, 13;
part of the Franc of Bruges, 59;
history of, 83;
church of St. Nicholas, 84-85;
_gâteaux d'ames_, 85;
ravages of the war, 86;
Yser River and canal, 103-104;
church of St. Nicholas destroyed by the Germans, 482.

Dozzo, Gasparo, rich Antwerp merchant, 411.

Dumery, George, 65.

Du Guesclin, 70.

Dumuriez, general of first French Republic, 459.

Dunes, viewed from the sea, 15;
at Coxyde, 92-93;
Battle of the Dunes, 96-98; 465.

Dunkerque, receives charter from Philip of Alsace, 55;
canal from Nieuport to, 104.

Duquesnoy, Jerome, 241; 355;
influenced by Rubens, 453.

Dyle, river, at Malines, 312; 314;
views from, 316; 317;
_grand pont_ across, 333; 334.

Dyver, at Bruges, 27;
view of Notre Dame from, 50.

Eccloo, part of the Franc of Bruges, 59.

Edward I, King of England, obtains Antwerp as a fief, 397.

Edward III, King of England, 198;
treats with Jacques Van Artevelde, 200;
wins Battle of Sluys, 201;
welcomes Flemish weavers, 204-205;
besieges Tournai, 248-249;
at Antwerp, 397.

Edward IV, King of England, guest of the Lord of Gruuthuise, 303.

Egmont, Count of, "Last Honours to" and "Last Moments of" by Louis
Gallait, 273-274.

Eleanor, Queen of France, 339.

Elizabeth, Queen of England, 237;
sends English garrison to Ostende, 465-466.

Epinoy, Christine, Princess of, heroic defence of Tournai, 249;
statue of, 262;
painting of, 274.

Erasmus, 341.

Erembald, house of, 37;
murder of Charles the Good, 38;
besieged in church of St. Donatian, 39;
flung from church tower, 41;
house nearly annihilated, 42.

Erembald, blacksmith at Bruges, 65.

Ethelwolf, King of Wessex, 26.

Eugene, Prince of Savoy, 391.

Everard, Nicholas, 341.

Faid'herbe, Luke, sculptor of Malines, 326;
designs church of Notre Dame d'Hanswyck, 329;
pupil of Rubens, 453.

Farnese, Octavio, Duke of Parma, 378.

Ferdinand of Aragon, 62.

Ferdinand, King of Bohemia, 339.

Ferdinand of Portugal, Count of Flanders, 122; 135-136.

Féré, Pierrot, tapestry maker of Arras, 279.

Ferrand, Count of Flanders, 190.

Flanders, location of, 1 and 12-13;
historical interest of, 3-5;
Bruges first capital of, 13;
plan of chronological tour of, 14;
climate, 22-24;
travel hints, 23;
origin of the County, 25;
just misses becoming independent, 192-193;
"the cock-pit of Europe," 250-251; 286;
end of independence in 1540, 355;
arms of, at Audenaerde, 373;
the Scheldt its Eastern boundary, 394-395.

Flemish architecture, 3;
art, 6;
inns, 7-11;
language, 12-13;
coast, 15-16;
cleanliness, 43-44;
language in West Flanders, 99-100;
Belgium bi-lingual, 149-150;
Flemish dinners, 213-215.

Fleurus, Battle of, 459.

Floris, Corneille, 261.

Floris, Frans, 386;
life and chief works, 403-404.

Flowers in Belgium, 165-166;
fondness of people for, 284;
Bishop Triest encourages horticulture at Ghent, 355-356;
first hothouse, 356;
Botanical Gardens at Ghent, 357-358.

Flushing, 17; 334.

Fontenoy, Battle of, 250-255;
battlefield and monument, 256; 458.

Franchoys, Luc, 331.

Francis I, King of France, 62;
loses Tournai, 248;
concludes Treaty of Cambrai, 338-339.

Fredegonda, Queen of the Franks, 247-248.

Frederick II, Emperor, offers crown to Charles the Bold, 285; 294;
defeated by burghers of Ghent, 345.

Froissart, 148;
eulogy of Ghent, 169;
description of "Mad Margery," 208-209;
describes siege of Tournai, 249.

Fugger, Anthony, fame of his wealth, 411.

Furnes, at time of the Crusades, 13;
receives charter from Philip of Alsace, 55;
history, 86-87; 90;
the Procession of, 87-89;
principal buildings, 90-92.

Fyts, John, animal pictures of, 453.

Galeswintha, sister of Brunehault, 248.

Gallait, Louis, "Last Honours to Counts Egmont and Horn," 273;
other notable works, 273-274;
in Antwerp Museum, 456.

Gavre, Battle of, 225-227; 344.

Geefs, W., sculptor, 369.

George II, King of England, 251.

Gertrude, Countess of Flanders, 87.

Ghent, fortified by Baldwin II, 34;
receives charter from Philip of Alsace, 55;
attack on Nieuport in 1383, 95;
repulsed at Ypres, 144;
artisans from Ypres move to, 145;
loyal to French in 1302, 156;
greatness in the Middle Ages, 169-170;
Château des Comtes, 170-179;
Abbey of St. Bavon, 181-185;
château of Girard the Devil, 185-186;
church of St. Nicholas, 186-188;
cathedral of St. Bavon, 188;
rapid growth in power, 189-191;
takes popular side after Battle of the Spurs, 194;
guilds, 194-195;
Belfry, 195-198;
Cloth Hall (Halles), 197;
the Mammelokker, 198;
Jacques Van Artevelde, 199-204;
expulsion of weavers, 204-205;
Philip Van Artevelde, 206-207;
resists Philip the Bold, 218;
rebels against Philip the Good, 225;
crushed at Gavre, 226-227; 228;
Guild of St. Luke organised, 229; 230; 233;
"the Adoration of the Lamb," 234-238; 262;
"_Ville d'Art_," 268;
extorts concessions from Charles the Bold, 287;
denounced by Charles, 289; 312;
"renowned for its halters," 321;
Hotel de Ville completed, 340; 344;
the Rabot, 345-346;
rejoicings over birth of Charles V, 346;
decline of cloth industry, 347;
Hotel de Ville, description of, 347-349;
outbreak of 1539, 349;
execution of Liévin Pyn, 350;
Emperor withdraws liberties and privileges, 350-355;
Bishop Triest and beginnings of horticulture, 355-357;
Botanical Garden, 357-359;
Louis XVIII at, 358-359;
Justus of Ghent and Hugo Van der Goes, 360-362;
Gerard Van der Meire, 363;
ranks first in "monuments," 363;
some of its minor monuments, 363-366;
Margaret of Parma presented as Regent at, 379; 391; 394; 397; 442.

Ghistelle, Lords of, 309.

Gilliat-Smith, Ernest, "Story of Bruges," cited, 310.

Gilliodts, archevist of Bruges, quoted, 66-67.

Girard the Devil (Girard le Diable), château of, 185-186; 195; 197;
241.

Godfrey of the Beard, Duke of Brabant, 395.

Godfrey of Bouillon, 187.

Gordon, Pryse L., cited, 180.

Gossaert, Jan (or Mabuse), painting by, at Tournai, 274;
at court of Margaret of Austria, 339.

Granson, Battle of, 271; 290; 291; 294.

Granville, Cardinal, 426.

Gravelines, 55.

Griffis, "Belgium, the Land of Art," quoted, 480.

Groeninghe, Abbey of, 159;
Flemish name for Battle of the Spurs, 164.

Grupello, sculptor of Rubens school, 453.

Gruuthuise, Louis (or Lodewyk) Van der, 302; 303.

Gruuthuise Palace, 68; 302-305.

Gryeff, Adolphus de, 386.

Gueldre, Duke of, 313.

Gueux, 328; 329.

Guffens, Godefroid, fresco at Ypres, 124;
at Courtrai, 152.

Guido Gezelle, poet, 163.

Guilds, at Bruges, 64 and 70;
the 400 guilds of Ypres, 128;
guild leaders in 1302, 154;
at Battle of Courtrai, 157;
power of, 192-193;
guild houses in 14th century, 194-195;
slaughter of the fullers, 202;
slaughter of the weavers, 204;
expulsion of weavers, 204-205;
at Malines, 313-315;
house of Boatmen's Guild at Ghent, 347;
fine guild houses of Ghent, 365;
origin of Butchers' Guild, 365.

Guizot, minister of Louis XVIII, 358.

Guy of Dampierre, Count of Flanders, 122; 153-154;
grants Ghent a new _Keure_, 191.

Guy of Namur, 193.

Hachette, Jeanne, heroine of Beauvais, 289.

Hacket, Châtelain of Bruges, 37; 42.

Hainaut, County of, 130;
united to Flanders by marriages of Cambrai, 218-219;
Philip the Good becomes Count of, 221; 243;
Count of, at siege of Tournai, 249.

Hal, baptismal font at, 277.

Hanseatic League, 58;
at Bruges, 69;
abandons Bruges for Antwerp, 71; 401.

Hay, Lord, at Battle of Fontenoy, 254.

Hémony, Pierre, 323.

Hennebicq, painter of Tournai, 274.

Hennequin, painter of Tournai, 274.

Henry III, Duke of Brabant, grants privileges to Antwerp, 396.

Henry V, King of England, wins Battle of Agincourt, 220.

Henry VIII, captures Tournai, 249;
tower of, 266-267.

Herkenbald, "Justice of," painting by Van der Weyden, 271.

Heuvick, early painter of Audenaerde, 382.

Heyst, 16; 324.

Hiéronimites, 186.

Horembout, Gerard, 341.

Horn, Count of, "Last Honors to," 273; 412.

Hugonet, minister of Marie of Burgundy, 349.

Humbercourt, minister of Marie of Burgundy, 349.

Hundred Years' War, 70; 143; 198.

Iconoclasts (or "Image Breakers"), at Malines, 328; 329; 370;
outbreak of, 380-381;
at Audenaerde, 389;
at Antwerp, 412-413; 440.

Innocent VIII, 305-306.

Inquisition, meeting-place at Furnes, 91; 415.

Isabella of Castile, 62.

Isabel, Queen of Denmark, 339.

Isabella, Queen of France, 155.

Isabella, Regent of the Netherlands, 422;
portrait by Rubens, 444;
arrival at Antwerp, 447;
encourages Rubens, 448; 457;
at siege of Ostende, 467;
weeps at ruin of the town, 469.

Isabel of Portugal, marries Philip the Good, 221;
portrait of, 238;
picture of, in collection of Margaret of Austria, 340-341.

Jacqueline, Countess of Hainaut and Holland, 176-177;
forced to abdicate, 221.

Jansenius, Bishop of St. Martin at Ypres, 125-126.

Janssens, Victor, 386.

Jean II, Duke of Brabant, 314.

Jeanne d'Arc, 221.

Jeanne of Constantinople, Countess of Flanders, 122; 132; 135;
136-139;
founds first Béguinage at Ghent, 210.

Jehan de Bruges, early painter, 230.

Jehan de Hasselt, early painter, 230.

Jemappes, Battle of, 459.

Joanna of Spain (Jeanne de Castile), 62; 346.

John, Prince of Asturias, 334-335;
sudden death, 335.

John, Don, of Austria, Regent of the Netherlands, 415; 418.

John of Bavaria, 234.

John I, Duke of Brabant, grants the _Core van Antwerpen_, 396.

John II, Duke of Brabant, gives Antwerp to Edward I, 397.

John III, Duke of Brabant, extends rights of foreigners at Antwerp,
396-397.

John the Fearless, Duke of Burgundy, 220;
court painter of, 231; 233; 383.

John of Gaunt (Ghent), Duke of Lancaster, birth of, 201; 221.

John, King of England, alliance with Ferdinand of Portugal, 136.

Jordaens, Jacob, "Adoration of the Magi" at Dixmude, 84;
characteristics, 453; 455; 456.

Joseph II, Emperor of Austria, 237;
revolt against, 458-459.

Josephine, Empress of France, saves Botanical Garden at Ghent,
357-358.

Judith, first Countess of Flanders, 26;
traces of her chapel, 28; 34.

Justus of Ghent, early Flemish painter, 360-362.

Justus Lipsius, meets Christopher Plantin, 429;
writes his epitaph, 430; 431; 441.

Kaboutermannekens, legends of, 408-409.

Karls, refuse allegiance to feudal overlords, 37;
support the Erembalds, 38;
receive _Keurbrief_ from Philip of Alsace, 60-61.

Katherine, Queen of Portugal, 339.

Keldermans, André, Antoine I, Antoine II, Jean, Laurent and Mathieu,
all architects of Malines, 319-320.

Keldermans, Rombaut, architect of Malines, 318; 320;
rebuilds Hotel de Savoy, 336;
receives many commissions from Margaret of Austria, 339-340;
designs _Maison de la Keure_ at Ghent, 348.

Kerel van Yper, painter of Ypres, 141.

Kermesse, its antiquity, 115; 378; 449.

Keyser, Nicaise de, 160.

Kiliaen, the Flemish lexicographer, 433.

Kipling, quoted, 29.

Kludde, legends of, 409-410.

Knocke, 16.

_Lac d'Amour_, Bruges, see Minnewater.

Laevinius Torrentius, 433.

Lagye, Victor, 457.

Lalaing, Countess of, 377; 378.

Lalaing, Philippe, Count of, 371.

Lannoy, Charles de, 62.

Larks in Belgium, 166-168.

Legend of Baldwin of Constantinople, 130-133;
of siege of Ghent in 930, 179-180;
of St. Nicholas, 187;
of the Mammelokker, 198;
concerning the wealth of the Flemish burghers, 207-208;
of the marriage of Childeric and Basina, 246-247;
of Memling's wound at Nancy, 295-296;
of the "Vuyle Bruydegom" at Malines, 332-333;
of Antigonus and Brabo at Antwerp, 393-394;
of Lohengrin, 394;
of Quentin Matsys, 401-402;
of the Long Wapper of Antwerp, 405-408;
of the Kaboutermannekens, 408-409;
of Kludde, 409-410;
of Van Dyck at Saventhem, 449-451.

Lemaire des Belges, Jean, 341.

Leopold I, King of the Belgians,
first welcomed to Belgium at Furnes, 87;
elected King, 461;
frees the Scheldt in 1863, 461.

Leopold II, King of the Belgians,
an efficient chief executive, 461-462;
Palace at Ostende, 470.

Leys, Baron Henri, 456;
paintings in Hotel de Ville at Antwerp, 457.

Liederick de Buck, portrait of, 373.

Liedts, Baroness, lace collection at Bruges, 304.

Liége, 106; 286;
insurrections at, 287-288;
city sacked, 288; 312; 344.

Lieve, river, at Ghent, 169; 172.

Liliaerts, partisans of France, 154; 189; 191; 194.

Lille, destroyed by Philip Augustus, 136;
Baldwin of Constantinople executed at, 138-139; 207;
fêtes held by Philip the Good at, 227; 280.

Lissweghe, 59.

Lombartzyde, 95;
statue of the Virgin, 104-105.

Longfellow, quoted, 67.

Long Wapper of Antwerp, legends of, 405-408.

Louis of Maele, Count of Flanders, 59; 175;
besieged at Ghent, 178; 183; 204;
marriage of daughter, 205-206;
defeated by Philip Van Artevelde, 206;
death, 207;
wealth of Ghent during reign of, 207-208; 218;
court painter of, 230; 397.

Louis of Nevers, Count of Flanders, 124; 194; 198;
vainly resists popular party, 199-200;
hires assassination of Jacques Van Artevelde, 202-203;
death at Crécy, 203.

Louis the Fat, King of France, 41-42.

Louis XI, King of France, lives at Furnes while Dauphin, 90;
drives tapestry weavers from Arras, 278;
implacable foe of Charles the Bold, 286;
foments insurrection at Liége, 287-288;
stirs up German resistance to Charles, 289;
causes downfall of Charles, 293; 294; 334; 344.

Louis XIII, King of France, 387.

Louis XIV, captures Tournai, 250; 265;
removes tapestries from Audenaerde, 376;
portrait of, 376; 387;
bombards Audenaerde, 391.

Louis XV, King of France, at Battle of Fontenoy, 251-255;
Joyous Entry at Antwerp, 458.

Louis XVIII, King of France, at Ghent, 358-359.

Louise of Savoy, 338.

Louvain, 219;
Hotel de Ville, 228;
Guild of St. Luke organised, 230;
work of Van der Weyden at, 271;
Dierick Bouts at, 307-308; 310;
"renowned for its scholars," 321; 371; 395;
birth-place of Quentin Matsys, 401; 403.

Lyon, Jean, Dean of Boatmen's Guild, 188.

Lys, river, 146;
superior for retting flax, 147; 158; 164; 169; 204; 206.

Mabuse, see Jan Gossaert.

Mace, Robert, teaches art of printing to Christopher Plantin, 423.

Maele, Château of, near Bruges, 303.

Mahaut, Countess of Flanders, 122.

Malfait of Brussels, 124.

Malines, lace makers at, 5;
centre of Flemish architecture, art and learning, 12;
"_Ville d'Art_," 268;
extorts privileges from Charles the Bold, 287;
terrible destruction in the Great War, 311;
situation and importance, 312;
early history, 312-315;
Cloth Hall and museum, 317; 318;
Cathedral of St. Rombaut, 318-323;
chimes, 323-325;
interior of Cathedral, 325-327;
"renowned for its fools," 321;
Notre Dame au delà de la Dyle, 327-328;
Notre Dame d'Hanswyck, 328-329;
church of St. Jean, 330-331;
Hotel de Ville, 332;
Vieux Palais, 332-333;
some fine old houses, 333;
Margaret of Austria, early life, 333-336;
her court at Malines, 336; 342;
death,342-343;
"monuments" classified, 363; 439; 442;
Cathedral sadly injured, 482.

Mammelokker, bas relief and legend of, 198.

Manson, Collard, printer at Bruges, 228; 435.

Margaret of Austria, Regent of the Netherlands, 61-62;
childhood and early life, 333-336;
Palace at Malines, 336;
Regent of the Netherlands, 337;
negotiates the "Ladies' Peace," 338-339;
brilliant court, 339;
taste for art and literature, 340-342;
untimely death, 342-343; 345; 349.

Margaret, Countess of Flanders, 122; 132; 135; 136; 153.

Margaret, daughter of Louis of Maele, 183; 205-206; 218.

Margaret of Parma, portrait at Audenaerde, 376;
birth and marriages, 377-378;
Regent of the Netherlands, 379;
popularity, 379-380;
suppresses outbreak of the Iconoclasts, 380-381;
superseded by Duke of Alva, 381; 413; 419; 425.

Margaret of York, betrothal to Charles the Bold at Damme, 75-77;
resides at Malines, 333; 336.

Maria Theresa, Empress of Austria, 458.

Marie of Burgundy, tomb at Bruges, 51-53;
statue, 62; 293;
marries Maximilian, 294;
children of, 333; 344; 345; 349.

Marie of Champagne, Countess of Flanders, 133;
dedicates Cloth Hall at Ypres, 134;
death in Syria, 134; 162.

Marie, Queen of Hungary, 339;
Regent of the Netherlands, 342-343;
insurrection at Ghent during reign of, 349-350; 354.

Marlborough, Duke of, captures Tournai, 250;
wins Battle of Audenaerde, 391;
recalled in peasant nursery song, 391-392;
takes Antwerp after Battle of Ramillies, 458.

Marot, Clement, 428.

Marvis Towers at Tournai, 265.

Massé, 341.

Matsys, Quentin, life and principal works, 401-403.

Matthew, Duke of Lorraine, 122.

Maurice, Count of Nassau, wins Battle of the Dunes, 96-98; 465;
captures Sluys, 468.

Maximilian, Emperor, 51;
statue of, 62;
conflict with Bruges, 71;
marriage to Marie of Burgundy, 294; 333;
Regent of Flanders, 334;
fondness for daughter, Margaret of Austria, 337;
death, 338; 345; 347; 411.

Maximilian, Emperor of Mexico, 369.

Memling, Hans, at Bruges, 295-296;
works of, in Hospital of St. Jean, 296-298;
other notable paintings, 298-299; 307;
in collection of Margaret of Austria, 341.

Mercator, 431.

Merghelynck Museum at Ypres, 139-140; 304.

Meunier, Constantin, statue of _pecheur des crevettes_, 93;
painting at Courtrai, 160.

Michelle, first wife of Philip the Good, 183;
death of, 233-234.

Middleburg, paintings by Van der Weyden at, 309.

Minnewater, 33;
view of Notre Dame from, 50;
formerly chief harbour of Bruges, 71-72.

Molinet, Jean, 341.

Mons, capital of Hainaut, 130;
Flemish name for, 150; 219;
Hotel de Ville, 228; 243; 252.

Montalembert, quoted, 388.

Montanus, Arias, supervises _Biblia Regia_, 426;
opinion of Christopher Plantin, 427; 431.

Morat, Battle of, 291.

Moretus, Balthazar I, 432.

Moretus, Edouard, sells Plantin-Moretus museum to city of Antwerp,
432.

Moretus, Jean I, marries Martina, daughter of Christopher Plantin,
429; 431; 432;
tomb in the Cathedral, 441;
employs Rubens, 443;
friend of Rubens, 448.

Moretus, Jean II, 431-432.

Montereau, murder of John the Fearless at, 220.

_Morte d'Ypres, la_ (the Death of Ypres), 117; 122; 123; 144.

Motley, cited, 413.

Nancy, siege of, 291;
death of Charles the Bold before, 292; 295; 333.

Namur, 312.

Napoleon, saves Chapel of the Holy Blood, 56; 94; 282; 330; 358;
358-359;
removes tapestries from Audenaerde, 376;
at Antwerp, 460.

Nauwelaerts, official bell ringer of Bruges, 66.

Neerwinden, Battle of, 459.

Nicholas V, Pope, 340.

Nicholas de Verdun, 277.

Nieuport, at time of the Crusades, 13;
receives charter from Philip of Alsace, 55;
some famous sieges of, 95;
Battle of the Dunes, 96-98;
Chambers of Rhetoric, 99;
Tower of the Templars, Cloth Hall and church of Notre Dame,
99-101;
the Yser River, locks and canals, 103-104; 465; 473.

Norsemen, anarchy resulting from invasions of, 36;
capture Tournai, 248; 256; 259;
burn church at Audenaerde, 383.

Notre Dame, Cathedral of, at Antwerp, 20; 228;
well cover made by Quentin Matsys, 401;
description of, 440-442.

Notre Dame de Pamela, church of, at Audenaerde, 387-389.

Notre Dame, church of, at Bruges, 50-53;
remains of Charles the Bold placed in, 292; 303; 306.

Notre Dame, church of, at Courtrai, 162-163.

Notre Dame au delà de la Dyle, church of, at Malines, 316;
description, 327-328.

Notre Dame d'Hanswyck, church of, at Malines, 316;
description, 328-329.

Notre Dame, Cathedral of, at Tournai, 245;
description, 255-262.

Order of the Golden Fleece, 58; 172; 175;
established by Philip the Good, 221-222;
fêtes at Lille, 227;
Tournai tapestries ordered for, 279;
chapter at Malines, 334;
at Antwerp, 412;
portrait of Charles V wearing insignia of, 376.

Ostende, part of the Franc of Bruges, 59; 102;
canal from Nieuport to, 103; 324; 359;
on main tourist routes, 464;
great siege of 1601-1603, 465-469;
renown as a watering place since 1830, 470;
description of the _Digue_, the Esplanade and the beach, 471-472;
summer prices at, 472-473;
the Kursaal, 473-477;
the Estacade, 477-478;
last glimpses of, 478-479.

Orleans, Duke of, 220; 233.

Ortelius, 431.

Oudenaarde, Jan van, 72.

Pape, Simon de, early painter of Audenaerde, 384; 389.

Parma, Duke of, captures Ypres, 144;
besieges Tournai, 249;
son of Margaret of Parma, 378;
Regent of the Netherlands, 379; 414;
siege of Antwerp, 419-422; 447;
siege of Ostende, 465.

Pauwels, Ferdinand, 121-122.

Pavia, Battle of, 62.

Pembroke, Duke of, 70.

Péronne, 138;
Louis XI visits Charles the Bold at, 288; 293.

Péterinck, François, maker of fine porcelains at Tournai, 280.

Philibert II, Duke of Savoy, 335.

Philip of Alsace, Count of Flanders, grants charters to many Flemish
cities, 55; 59;
grants the _Keurbrief_, 59-61; 87; 129;
builds Spuytorre at Courtrai, 164;
erects Château des Comtes at Ghent, 171; 173; 189.

Philip Augustus, King of France, 135-136; 138; 153;
Treaty of Arras, 189;
annexes Tournai, 248;
painting of, at Tournai, 274.

Philip the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, 90; 124;
removes clock at Courtrai, 148;
rebuilds Spuytorre at Courtrai, 164;
marries Margaret of Maele, 183;
significance of this event, 205-206;
acknowledged as Count of Flanders, 218;
arranges the marriages of Cambrai, 218-219;
death, 220;
court painter of, 230-231; 397.

Philippe de Champaigne, 376.

Philip the Fair (Philippe le Bel), King of France, 153;
annexes Flanders, 154;
at Bruges, 155;
rage over the Matin de Bruges, 156;
defeated at Courtrai, 157-160;
sheriffs of, besieged at Ghent, 177.

Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy, 4; 58; 90; 175; 176;
becomes Count of Flanders, Hainaut and Holland, and Duke of
Brabant, 220-221;
founds Order of the Golden Fleece, 221-222;
siege of Calais, 222-223;
repulsed at Bruges (Bruges vespers), 223-224;
humbles Bruges, 224-225;
crushes Ghent at Gavre, 225-227;
holds fêtes at Lille, 227;
divergent estimates of character, 228-229; 231;
visits studio of Jean Van Eyck, 235-236;
orders portrait of Isabel of Portugal, 238;
orders tapestries at Tournai, 279; 287; 305; 340; 344;
grants liberal charter to Antwerp, 398.

Philip the Handsome, Duke of Burgundy, 51; 62; 91;
education, 333;
premature death, 334; 346.

Philip II, King of Spain, 91; 236-237; 249; 292-293;
unwise policy provokes revolt, 379-380;
sends Duke of Alva to punish iconoclasts, 381; 412; 413-415;
rejoices at fall of Antwerp, 422; 424;
aids Plantin to publish _Biblia Regia_, 426; 427; 432; 447; 465.

Philip of Valois, King of France, 201-202.

Pierre de Beckère, 52.

Pius II, 378.

Pizarro, 346.

Plantin, Christopher, early life, 423-424;
establishes printing house at Antwerp, 425;
issues the _Biblia Regia_, 426-427;
extent of business, 427-428;
moves to Friday Market, 428-429;
death, 429-430;
extent of achievements, 431;
tomb in the Cathedral, 441.

Plantin-Moretus Museum, at Antwerp, 423; 432-437;
portraits by Rubens, 444;
sketches by Rubens, 445.

Pourbus, Pieter, 301.

Prévost, Jean, 301.

Procession of the Holy Blood at Bruges, 56;
Procession at Furnes, 87-89;
_Peysprocessie_ at Malines, 315.

Pyn, Liévin, execution of, 349-350; 351; 352.

Quellin, Erasmus, "The Adoration of the Shepherds" at Malines, 327;
433;
founds family of sculptors and painters, 452-543.

"Quentin Durward" by Sir Walter Scott, cited, 288.

Rabot at Ghent, 345-346.

Raeske, Richard de, 37.

Ramillies, Battle of, 458.

Raphelingen, Francis, chief proof-reader of Christopher Plantin,
427;
marries Margaret, eldest daughter, 429.

Rénacle de Florennes, 341.

_Reparation invisible_, 215-216.

Requesens, Regent of the Netherlands, 415.

Richard, Duke of Gloucester, later Richard III, King of England,
303.

Rivière, Jeanne, wife of Christopher Plantin, 423;
aids husband with a linen business, 429.

Robbins, Philippe, master tapestry weaver of Audenaerde, 387.

Robert the Frisian, Count of Flanders, 141.

Robert II, Count of Flanders, 87-88.

Robinson, Wilfrid, "Antwerp, an Historical Sketch," quoted, 397.

Rockox, burgomaster of Antwerp, 448.

Roda, Jerome, 415.

Roland, the great bell at Ghent, 196-197;
inscription on, 196;
taken down by Charles V, 354.

Rooses, Max, Director of Plantin-Moretus Museum, quoted, 239-240;
298;
description of Plantin Museum, cited, 433.

Rosbecque, Battle of, 162; 163; 207.

Roya, at Bruges, 26; 27; 52.

Rubens, Peter Paul, "St. Bavon withdrawing from the World" at Ghent,
241;
"Christ on the Cross" at Malines, 317;
"Miraculous Draught of Fishes" at Malines, 327-328;
"Adoration of the Magi" at Malines, 330; 386; 433;
rank among the masters, 438;
two masterpieces in Cathedral at Antwerp, 339-440;
"Resurrection" in the Cathedral, 441;
at height of fame, 442-444;
enormous productivity, 444-445;
death, 445;
Prof. Wauters' estimate of, 446-447;
patronised by the "Archdukes," 448;
diplomatic missions, 448;
letters, 449; 455; 456.

Rudolph II, Emperor of Austria, 405.

St. Amand, early missionary, 181.

St. Basil, crypt of, at Bruges, 27-28;
restoration, 57; 171.

St. Bavon, Abbey of, at Ghent, 181-185; 189;
destruction of, by Charles V, 353.

St. Bavon, Cathedral of, at Ghent, 172;
crypt, 188-189;
altar-piece by the Van Eycks, 234-238;
other works of art in, 240-241; 355; 360.

St. Brice, church of, at Tournai, 263-264.

St. Donatian, church of, at Bruges, 35;
scene of murder of Charles the Good, 38;
besieged by foes of the Erembalds, 39-41;
Erembalds flung from tower, 41;
destroyed in French Revolution, 42;
relics and approximate site, 42-43; 292.

St. Eleuthereus, statue of, on portal of Cathedral, 260;
_Chasse_ of, 276-277;
life of, depicted on tapestry in Cathedral, 279.

St. George, church of, at Nancy, 292.

St. Ghislain, 252.

Ste. Gudule, Cathedral of, at Brussels, 340.

St. Jacques, church of, at Antwerp, 445-446.

St. Jean, Hospital of, at Bruges, legend of nursing Memling,
295-296;
Shrine of St. Ursula, 296-298;
other works by Memling at, 298;
description of, 299; 301.

St. Jean, church of, at Ghent, name changed to St. Bavon in 1540,
188.

St. Jean, church of, at Malines, 330-331.

St. Luke, Guild of, first organised in Flemish towns, 229-230;
admits brothers Van Eyck at Bruges, 234;
at Tournai, 270-271;
at Ghent admits Van der Meire, 363;
admits Frans Floris at Antwerp, 403;
admits Christopher Plantin at Antwerp, 423;
elects Rubens President, 445.

St. Martin, church of, at Courtrai, 161-162.

St. Martin, church of, at Ypres, 125-126.

St. Mary, church of, at Antwerp, 412;
becomes Cathedral of Notre Dame in 1560, 440.

St. Michel, church of, at Ghent, 181.

St. Nicholas, church of, at Dixmude, 84-85; 482.

St. Nicholas, church of, at Ghent, 186-188.

St. Omer, seized by Philip Augustus, 135.

St. Peter, monastery of, at Ghent, 181-182; 189.

St. Peter, church of, at Louvain, 307-308.

St. Piat, martyrdom at Tournai, 245;
statue of, on portal of Cathedral, 260;
life of, depicted on tapestry in Cathedral, 279.

St. Rombaut, Cathedral of, at Malines, 312; 313;
first view of, 317;
the tower and its builders, 318-323;
the chimes, 323-325;
interior and art treasures, 325-327; 328;
tower completed, 340.

St. Sauveur, Cathedral of, at Bruges, 47-50; 305-307; 362.

Ste. Ursula, Shrine of, 296-298.

Ste. Walburge, church of, at Audenaerde, 368; 369; 382;
description of, 383-385; 389.

Ste. Walburge, church of, at Furnes, 88 and 92.

Saventhem, 449-451.

Savoy, Duchess of, see Margaret of Austria.

Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, Leopold, Prince of, elected King of the Belgians,
461.

Saxe, Maurice, victor at Fontenoy, 251-255.

Scheldt, estuary, 17;
"the greyest of grey rivers," 18;
history of navigation on, 18-19;
view from, 19-20;
river traffic on, 20;
Antwerp from, 21;
monument on Place Marnix, 19; 169;
at Tournai, 266; 300;
snakes in, 382;
at Audenaerde, 387; 389;
legend of Brabo, 393-394;
displaces the Zwyn as highway of commerce, 394-395;
fight for mastery of, 399-400;
deepens as commerce grows, 400; 401; 414;
closed during reign of the Archdukes, 447;
opened to navigation in 1795, 459;
docks erected by Napoleon, 460;
free under the Dutch, 460;
freed permanently by Leopold I in 1863, 461;
growth of commerce since, 462.

Scott, Sir Walter, "Quentin Durward," cited, 288; 304.

Seghers, Daniel, 51.

Shelley, "Ode to the Skylark," quoted, 167-168.

Sigebert, brother of Chilperic, 248; 281.

Sluys, part of the Franc of Bruges, 59;
landing place of Margaret of York in 1468, 76;
Battle of, 201;
captured by Maurice of Nassau, 468.

Snellinck, Jean, "Creation of Eve" at Audenaerde, 388-389.

Snyders, Francis, animal pictures of, 453.

Spanish Fury, the, 415-418.

Spierinckx, Peter, 386.

Spinola, Ambrose, Marquis of, captures Ostende, 468-469.

Stallaert, "Death of Dido," 274.

Steen, 396; 398;
description of, 399.

Strada, the historian, cited, 378.

Swerts, Jean, mural paintings at Ypres, 125;
at Courtrai, 152.

Taillebert, Urban, 84.

Tancmar, Lord of Straten, 37.

Tani, Jacopo, 298.

Tapestry, 5;
workers organised into a guild, 230;
in church of St. Brice at Tournai, 264;
weaving at Tournai, 278-280; 376;
at Audenaerde, 384-390.

Templars, Tower of, at Nieuport, 95; 99;
House of, at Ypres, 140-141.

Teniers, David, 7; 386;
master of scenes of homely Flemish life, 453-454; 455; 456.

Tournai, tapestries, 5;
forest of, 134;
besieged by Edward III, 202;
Guild of St. Luke organised, 229;
tapestry workers organised, 230;
oldest city in Belgium, 242;
_Turris Nerviorum_ of Cæsar, 245;
capital of Merovingian Kings, 245-248;
many sieges, 248-250;
Battle of Fontenoy, 250-255;
Belfry, 262-263;
Roman houses and church of St. Brice, 263-264;
relics of King Childeric, 264-265;
Marvis Towers, _Pont des Trous_, and tower of Henry VIII, 265-267;
_Ville d'Art_, 268-269 and 281-282;
Robert Campin, Jacques Daret and Van der Weyden, 269-272;
Cloth Hall and Museum of Fine Arts, 272-275;
later artists, 274-275;
sculptors at, 275-276;
gold and silversmiths at, 276-277;
coppersmiths at, 277-278;
tapestry weavers, 278-280;
porcelains of, 280-281;
manufactures of stained glass, 281-282;
manufacture of fine carpets, 282; 312;
"monuments" classified, 363; 377;
tapestry weaving at, 383.

Trajan, "the Just Emperor," painting by Van der Weyden, 271.

Triest, Bishop, tomb in Cathedral of St. Bavon at Ghent, 241;
encourages horticulture at Ghent, 355-356; 358.

Turenne, defeated by Condé near Nieuport, 95.

Turin, Exposition of, Tournai carpet shown at, 282.

Turnhout, lace makers at, 5;
fairy hill near, 409.

Urbin, Duke of, 378.

Valckx, Pierre, sculptor, 381.

Valenciennes, 134; 137;
lace made at Ypres, 141; 219;
tapestry workers organised, 230; 351.

Van Artevelde, Jacques (or Jacob), besieges Louis of Maele at Ghent,
178;
rise to power, 199-200;
alliance with Edward III, 201;
Battle of Sluys, 201-202;
assassination, 202-204; 248-249; 397.

Van Artevelde, Philip, brief career, 206-207;
big cannon of, 208;
at siege of Audenaerde, 391.

Van Bredael, Alexander, 386.

Van den Broeck, 431.

Van Dyck, Anthony, "The Raising of the Cross" at Courtrai, 162-163;
"The Crucifixion" at Malines, 327; 433;
pupil of Rubens, 499;
"Saint Martin dividing Cloak among the Beggars," 499-451;
at Antwerp, 451;
court painter of Charles I, 451;
chief works, 451-452; 456.

Van Eyck, Hubert, tombstone at Abbey of St. Bavon, 184;
discovery of art of painting with oils, 231-233;
in service of Philip the Good, 233-234;
plans and begins "The Adoration of the Lamb," 234-235;
death, 234;
monument, 241; 269; 270; 295; 360.

Van Eyck, Jean, colours statues for Hotel de Ville at Bruges, 58;
59;
discovery of art of painting with oils, 231-233;
enters service of Philip the Good, 233-234;
completes "The Adoration of the Lamb," 235;
later paintings, 238-239;
death, 240;
monument, 241; 269; 270; 295; 301;
"_La Belle Portugalaise_" at Malines, 341-342; 360.

Van der Gheynst, Jehanne (or Jeanne), 377-378.

Van der Goes, Hugo, 273; 301; 307;
life and principal works, 360-362.

Van Maerlant, Jacob, Flemish poet, 59;
statue at Damme, 73-74.

Van der Meire, Gerard, painter of Ghent, 363.

Van Nieuwenhove, Martin, painting of, by Memling, 298.

Van Noort, Adam, teacher of Rubens, 441.

Van Orley, Bernard, 339; 341.

Van der Paele, George, painting of, by Jean Van Eyck, 239-240.

Van Péde, Henri, 371.

Van der Schelden, Paul, sculptor, 373;
wooden doorway at Audenaerde, 375.

Van Severdonck, 274.

Van de Walle, burgomaster of Bruges, 224; 225.

Van der Voort, Michel, sculptor of Antwerp, 326.

Van der Weyden, Rogier (Roger de la Pasture), 270-272; 273;
influence of sculpture on, 275; 280; 300; 307; 308; 309; 341.

Vauban, military engineer, constructs walls of Ypres, 142;
fortifies Tournai, 250; 312.

Verbanck, Georges, 241.

Verbruggen, P. H., sculptor, 241; 453.

Vere, Sir Francis, English commander at Ostende, 467-468.

Verhaegen, Theodore, sculptor, 329;
fine carvings at Malines, 331.

Verlat, Charles, 418-419.

Vervoort, Michel, 442.

Vivés, Louis, 341.

Voisin, Belgian historian, 160.

Vos, Martin de, many works of, at Antwerp, 404; 431.

Vriendt, Albrecht and Julian de, frescoes at Bruges, 58-59;
at Furnes, 91.

Vriendt, Cornelius de, 456-457.

Vos, Cornelius de, portraits of, 453.

Vydts, Jodocus, 234.

Waghenakere, Dominique de, architect, 348.

Walloon provinces, 13; 24.

Walter of Straten, 37.

Waterloo, Battle of, 94; 158; 250; 359; 460.

Wauters, Prof. A. J., "History of Flemish Painting," cited, 229;
attributes portrait of Charles the Bold to Van der Goes, 362;
on Peter Breughel the Elder, quoted, 404-405;
eulogy of Rubens, quoted, 446-447.

Wauters, Emile, painting of the madness of Hugo Van der Goes, 361.

Weale, James, cited, 299.

Westende, 473.

White Hoods, 188;
destroy castles of Liliaert nobles, 200.

William of Dampierre, Count of Flanders, 153.

William I, King of Holland, 460.

William of Juliers, Provost of Maestricht, 154; 193.

William the Silent, Prince of Orange, 320; 328; 412; 419;
death, 419;
plans for defence of Antwerp disregarded, 420-421.

Winders, sculptor, 19.

Witte, Gaspar de, 386.

Wolsey, Cardinal, 249.

Wordsworth, quoted, 168.

Wynandael, 53; 132.

Yperlée, tributary to the Yser, 104.

Ypres, at the time of the Crusades, 13;
fortified by Baldwin II, 34;
execution of Provost of St. Donatian at, 40-41;
receives charter from Philip of Alsace, 55;
stubborn defence in the Great War, 116-118;
_Halle aux Draps_, or Cloth Hall, 118-125;
church of St. Martin, 125-126;
Grande Place, 126-129;
Musée Merghelynck, 139-140;
rue de Lille and ancient city walls, 141-143;
causes of decline, 143-145;
language spoken at, 159;
guildsmen of, at Battle of the Spurs, 157; 190; 192; 198-199;
influence of Jacques Van Artevelde in, 200; 202;
Melchior Broederlam, early painter of, 230-231; 304;
Hotel de Ville destroyed by the Germans, 482.

Ysenbrant, Adriaen, early painter of Bruges, 301.

Yser Canal, limit of the German advance, 94;
the locks, the river and the three canals, 103-104.

Zee-Brugge, from the sea, 16.

Zeghers, Gerard, religious pictures of, 453.

Zwyn, ancient channel to Bruges, 16-17; 59;
silting up of, 70-71;
replaced by the Scheldt, as channel of commerce, 394-395; 398.

*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Spell of Flanders - An Outline of the History, Legends and Art of Belgium's Famous Northern Provinces" ***

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