The Spell of Flanders

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.