note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see 18670-h.htm or 18670-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/8/6/7/18670/18670-h/18670-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/8/6/7/18670/18670-h.zip) bruges and west flanders painted by amédée forestier described by g. w. t. omond [illustration: a flemish country girl] preface there is no part of europe more wanting in what is known as 'scenery' than flanders; and those who journey there must spend most of their time in the old towns which are still so strangely mediæval in their aspect, or in country places which are worth seeing only because of their connection with some event in history--nature has done so little for them. thus the interest and the attraction of flanders and the flemish towns are chiefly historical. but it would be impossible to compress the history of such places as bruges, ypres, furnes, or nieuport within the limits of a few pages, except at the cost of loading them with a mass of dry facts. accordingly the plan adopted in preparing the letterpress which accompanies mr. forestier's drawings has been to select a few leading incidents, and give these at some length. the flemish school of painting and architecture has been so well and frequently described that it would have been mere affectation to make more than a few passing allusions to that topic. some space has, however, been devoted to an account of the recent development of the flemish littoral, which has been so remarkable during the last quarter of a century. contents chapter i the market-place and belfry--early history of bruges chapter ii baldwin bras-de-fer--the place du bourg--murder of charles the good chapter iii the béguinage--churches--the relic of the holy blood chapter iv the bruges matins--battle of the golden spurs chapter v damme--the sea-fight at sluis--splendour of bruges in the middle ages--the fall and loss of trade chapter vi 'bruges la morte' chapter vii the plain of west flanders--ypres chapter viii furnes--the procession of penitents chapter ix nieuport--the battle of the dunes chapter x the coast of flanders chapter xi coxyde--the scenery of the dunes index list of illustrations 1. a flemish country girl 2. bruges: a corner of the market on the grand' place 3. bell-ringer playing a chime 4. bruges: porte d'ostende 5. bruges: rue de l'âne aveugle (showing end of town hall and bridge connecting it with palais de justice) 6. bruges: quai du rosaire 7. bruges: the béguinage 8. bruges: quai des marbriers 9. a flemish young woman 10. a flemish burgher 11. bruges: quai du miroir 12. bruges: view of the palais du franc. 13. bruges: maison du pélican (almshouse) 14. bruges: vegetable market 15. the flemish plain 16. duinhoek: interior of a farmhouse 17. adinkerque: at the kermesse 18. a farmsteading 19. ypres: place du musée (showing top part of the belfry) 20. ypres: arcade under the nieuwerk 21. furnes: grand' place and belfry 22. furnes: peristyle of town hall and palais de justice 23. nieuport: interior of church 24. furnes: tower of st. nicholas 25. furnes: in ste. walburge's church 26. nieuport: a fair parishioner 27. nieuport: hall and vicarage 28. nieuport: the quay, with eel-boats and landing-stages 29. nieuport: the town hall 30. nieuport: church porch (evensong) 31. the dunes: a stormy evening 32. an old farmer 33. la panne: interior of a flemish inn 34. la panne: a flemish inn--playing skittles 35. coxyde: a shrimper on horseback 36. coxyde: a shrimper 37. adinkerque: village and canal the market-place and belfry--early history of bruges bruges and west flanders chapter i the market-place and belfry--early history of bruges every visitor to 'the quaint old flemish city' goes first to the market-place. on saturday mornings the wide space beneath the mighty belfry is full of stalls, with white canvas awnings, and heaped up with a curious assortment of goods. clothing of every description, sabots and leathern shoes and boots, huge earthenware jars, pots and pans, kettles, cups and saucers, baskets, tawdry-coloured prints--chiefly of a religious character--lamps and candlesticks, the cheaper kinds of flemish pottery, knives and forks, carpenters' tools, and such small articles as reels of thread, hatpins, tape, and even bottles of coarse scent, are piled on the stalls or spread out on the rough stones wherever there is a vacant space. round the stalls, in the narrow spaces between them, the people move about, talking, laughing, and bargaining. their native flemish is the tongue they use amongst themselves; but many of them speak what passes for french at bruges, or even a few words of broken english, if some unwary stranger from across the channel is rash enough to venture on doing business with these sharp-witted, plausible folk. at first sight this market-place, so famed in song, is a disappointment. the north side is occupied by a row of seventeenth-century houses turned into shops and third-rate cafés. on the east is a modern post-office, dirty and badly ventilated, and some half-finished government buildings. on the west are two houses which were once of some note--the cranenburg, from the windows of which, in olden times, the counts of flanders, with the lords and ladies of their court, used to watch the tournaments and pageants for which bruges was celebrated, and in which maximilian was imprisoned by the burghers in 1488; and the hôtel de bouchoute, a narrow, square building of dark red brick, with a gilded lion over the doorway. but the cranenburg, once the 'most magnificent private residence in the market-place,' many years ago lost every trace of its original splendour, and is now an unattractive hostelry, the headquarters of a smoking club; while the hôtel de bouchoute, turned into a clothier's shop, has little to distinguish it from its commonplace neighbours. nevertheless, 'in the market-place of bruges stands the belfry old and brown; thrice consumed and thrice rebuilded, still it watches o'er the town.' it redeems the market-place from mediocrity. how long ago the first belfry tower of bruges was built is unknown, but this at least is certain, that in the year 1280 a fire, in which the ancient archives of the town perished, destroyed the greater part of an old belfry, which some suppose may have been erected in the ninth century. on two subsequent occasions, in the fifteenth and eighteenth centuries, the present belfry, erected on the ruins of the former structure, was damaged by fire; and now it stands on the south side of the market-place, rising 350 feet above the halles, a massive building of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, solemn, weather-beaten, and majestic. 'for six hundred years,' it has been said, '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 memories of old times and admiration for one of the most splendid monuments of civic architecture which the middle ages has produced.'[*] [footnote *: gilliat-smith, _the story of bruges_, p. 169 (dent and co., london, 1901). mr. gilliat-smith's book is a picturesque account of bruges in the middle ages. of the english works relating to bruges, there is nothing better than mr. wilfrid robinson's _bruges, an historical sketch_, a short and clear history, coming down to modern times (louis de plancke, bruges, 1899).] in olden times watchmen were always on duty on the belfry to give warning if enemies approached or fire broke out in any part of the town, a constant source of danger when most of the houses were built of wood. even in these more prosaic days the custom of keeping watch and ward unceasingly is still maintained, and if there is a fire, the alarum-bell clangs over the city. all day, from year's end to year's end, the chimes ring every quarter of an hour; and all night, too, during the wildest storms of winter, when the wind shrieks round the tower; and in summer, when the old town lies slumbering in the moonlight. [illustration: bruges. a corner of the market on the grand' place.] from the top of the belfry one looks down on what is practically a mediæval city. the market-place seems to lose its modern aspect when seen from above; and all round there is nothing visible but houses with high-pointed gables and red roofs, intersected by canals, and streets so narrow that they appear to be mere lanes. above these rise, sometimes from trees and gardens, churches, convents, venerable buildings, the lofty spire of notre dame, the tower of st. sauveur, the turrets of the gruthuise, the hospital of st. john, famous for its paintings by memlinc, the church of ste. elizabeth in the grove of the béguinage, the pinnacles of the palais du franc, the steep roof of the hôtel de ville, the dome of the couvent des dames anglaises, and beyond that to the east the slender tower which rises above the guildhouse of the archers of st. sebastian. the walls which guarded bruges in troublous times have disappeared, though five of the old gateways remain; but the town is still contained within the limits which it had reached at the close of the thirteenth century. behind the large square of the halles, from which the belfry rises, is the rue du vieux bourg, the street of the ouden burg, or old fort; and to this street the student of history must first go if he wishes to understand what tradition, more or less authentic, has to say about the earliest phases in the strange, eventful past of bruges. the wide plain of flanders, the northern portion of the country which we now call belgium, was in ancient times a dreary fenland, the haunt of wild beasts and savage men; thick, impenetrable forests, tracts of barren sand, sodden marshes, covered it; and sluggish streams, some whose waters never found their way to the sea, ran through it. one of these rivulets, called the roya, was crossed by a bridge, to defend which, according to early tradition, a fort, or 'burg,' was erected in the fourth century. this fort stood on an islet formed by the meeting of the roya with another stream, called the boterbeke, and a moat which joined the two. we may suppose that near the fort, which was probably a small building of rough stones, or perhaps merely a wooden stockade, a few huts were put up by people who came there for protection, and as time went on the settlement increased. 'john of ypres, abbot of st. bertin,' says mr. robinson, 'who wrote in the fourteenth century, describes how bruges was born and christened: "very soon pedlars began to settle down under the walls of the fort to supply the wants of its inmates. next came merchants, with their valuable wares. innkeepers followed, who began to build houses, where those who could not find lodging in the fort found food and shelter. those who thus turned away from the fort would say, 'let us go to the bridge.' and when the houses near the bridge became so numerous as to form a town, it kept as its proper name the flemish word _brugge_." [illustration: bell-ringer playing a chime.] the small island on which this primitive township stood was bounded on the south and east by the roya, on the north by the boterbeke, and on the west by the moat joining these two streams. the roya still flows along between the site of the old burg and an avenue of lime-trees called the dyver till it reaches the end of the quai du rosaire, when it turns to the north. a short distance beyond this point it is vaulted over, and runs on beneath the streets and houses of the town. the rue du vieux bourg is built over the course of the boterbeke, which now runs under it and under the belfry (erected on foundations sunk deep into the bed of the stream), until it joins the subterranean channel of the roya at the south-east corner of the market-place. the moat which joined these two streams and guarded the west side of the island was filled up long ago, and its bed is now covered by the rue neuve, which connects the rue du vieux bourg with the dyver. thus the boundaries of early bruges can easily be traced; but nothing remains of the ancient buildings, though we read of a warehouse, booths, and a prison, besides the dwelling-houses of the townsfolk. the elements, at least, of civic life were there; and tradition says that in or near the village, for it was nothing more, some altars of the christian faith were set up during the seventh and eighth centuries. trade, too, soon began to flourish, and grew rapidly as the population of the place increased. the roya, flowing eastwards, fell into the zwijn, an arm of the sea, which then ran up close to the town, and on which stood damme, now a small inland village, but once a busy port crowded with shipping. the commercial life of bruges depended on the zwijn; and that much business was done before the close of the ninth century is shown by the fact that bruges had then a coinage of its own.[*] it was from such small beginnings that this famous, 'venice of the north' arose. [footnote *: gilliodts van severen, _bruges ancienne et moderne_, pp. 7, 8, 9.] [illustration: bruges. porte d'ostende.] baldwin bras-de-fre--the place du bourg--murder of charles the good chapter ii baldwin bras-de-fer--the place du bourg--murder of charles the good towards the end of the ninth and at the beginning of the tenth century great changes took place on the banks of the roya, and the foundations of bruges as we know it now were laid. just as in the memorable years 1814 and 1815 the empire of napoleon fell into fragments, and princes and statesmen hastened to readjust the map of europe in their own interests, so in the ninth century the empire of charlemagne was crumbling away; and in the scramble for the spoils, the normans carried fire and sword into flanders. charles the bald, king of the franks, at this crisis called to his aid the strong arm of baldwin, a flemish chief of whose ancestry we know little, but who soon became famous as baldwin bras-de-fer--baldwin of the iron arm, so called because, in peace or war, he was never seen without his coat of mail. this grim warrior had fallen in love with the daughter of charles the bald, judith, who had been already twice married, first to the saxon king ethelwulf (after the death of his first wife osberga, mother of alfred the great) and secondly to ethelbald, on whose death she left england and went to live at senlis. baldwin persuaded the princess to run away with him; and they were married without the knowledge of her father, to escape whose vengeance the culprits fled to rome. pope nicholas i. brought about a reconciliation; and charles not only pardoned his son-in-law, but appointed him ruler of flanders under the title of marquis, which was afterwards changed into that of count. it is to the steel-clad baldwin bras-de-fer that the counts of flanders trace the origin of their title; and he was, moreover, the real founder of that bruges which rose to such glory in the middle ages, and is still, though fallen from its high estate, the picturesque capital of west flanders, whither artists flock to wander about amidst the canals and bridges, the dismantled ramparts, the narrow streets with their curious houses, and the old buildings which bear such eloquent testimony to the ruin which long ago overtook what was once an opulent and powerful city. when the wrath of his father-in-law had been appeased, baldwin, now responsible for the defence of flanders, came to bruges with his wife, and there established his court. but the old burg, it seems, was not thought capable of holding out against the normans, who could easily land on the banks of the zwijn; and baldwin, therefore, set about building a new stronghold on the east side of the old burg, and close to it. it was surrounded partly by the main stream of the roya, and partly by backwaters flowing from it. here he built a fortress for himself and his household, a church dedicated to st. donatian, a prison, and a 'ghiselhuis,' or house for the safe keeping of hostages. the whole was enclosed by walls, built close to the edge of the surrounding waters. the roya is now vaulted over where it ran along the west side of baldwin's stronghold, separating it from the original burg, and the watercourses which defended it on the north and east are filled up; but the stream on the south still remains in the shape of the canal which skirts the quai des marbriers, from which a bridge leads by a narrow lane, called the rue de l'âne aveugle, under an arch of gilded stonework, into the open space now known as the place du bourg. here we are at the very heart of bruges, on the ground where baldwin's stronghold stood, with its four gates and drawbridges, and the high walls frowning above the homes of the townsmen clustering round them. the aspect of the place is completely changed since those early days. a grove of chestnut-trees covers the site of the church of st. donatian; not a stone remains of bras-de-fer's rude palace; and instead of the prison and the hostage-house, there are the hôtel de ville, now more than five hundred years old, from whose windows the counts of flanders swore obedience to the statutes and privileges of the town, the palais de justice, and the dark crypt beneath the chapel which shelters the mysterious relic of the holy blood. [illustration: bruges. rue de l'âne aveugle (showing end of town hall and bridge connecting it with palais de justice).] in summer it is a warm, quiet, pleasant spot. under the shade of the trees, near the statue of van eyck, women selling flowers sit beside rows of geraniums, roses, lilies, pansies, which give a touch of bright colour to the scene. artists from all parts of europe set up their easels and paint. young girls are gravely busy with their water-colours. black-robed nuns and bare-footed carmelites pass silently along. perhaps some traveller from america opens his guide-book to study the map of a city which had risen to greatness long before columbus crossed the seas. a few english people hurry across, and pass under the archway of the rue de l'âne aveugle on the way to their tennis-ground beyond the porte de gand. the sunshine glitters on the gilded façade of the palais de justice, and lights up the statues in their niches on the front of the hôtel de ville. there is no traffic, no noise. everything is still and peaceful. the chimes, ever and anon ringing out from the huge belfry, which rises high above the housetops to the west, alone break the silence. this is bruges sleeping peacefully in old age, lulled to rest by the sound of its own carillon. but it is easy, standing there, to recall the past, and to fancy the scenes which took place from time to time throughout the long period of foreign danger and internal strife. we can imagine the bourg, now so peaceful, full of armed men, rushing to the church of st. donatian on the morning when charles the good was slain; how, in later times, the turbulent burghers, fiery partisans of rival factions, clauwerts shouting for the flemish lion, and leliarts marshalled under the lily of france, raged and threatened; how the stones were splashed with blood on the day of the bruges matins, when so many frenchmen perished; or what shouts were raised when the flemish host came back victorious from the battle of the golden spurs. though every part of bruges--not only the bourg, but the great market-place, and the whole maze of streets and lanes and canals of which it consists--has a story of its own, some of these stories stand out by themselves; and amongst these one of the most dramatic is the story of the death of charles the good. more than two hundred and fifty years had passed away since the coming of baldwin bras-de-fer; bruges had spread far beyond the walls of the bourg; and charles, who had succeeded his cousin baldwin vii., was count of flanders. he was called 'the good' because of his just rule and simple life, and still more, perhaps, because he clothed and fed the poor--not only in bruges, but throughout all flanders. the common people loved him, but his charities gave offence to the rich. he had, moreover, incurred the special enmity of the erembalds, a powerful family, who, though not of noble origin themselves, were connected by marriage with many noble houses. they had supported his claim to the throne of flanders, which had been disputed, and he had rewarded their services by heaping favours on them. but, after a time, they began to oppose the methods of government which charles applied to flanders. they resented most of all one of his decrees which made it unlawful for persons not in his service to carry arms in time of peace. this decree, which was pronounced in order to prevent the daily scenes of violence which charles abhorred, was declared by the erembalds to be an interference with flemish liberty. it did not affect them personally, for they held office under the count; but they none the less opposed it vehemently. while charles was thus on bad terms with the erembalds, a deadly feud existed between them and the straetens, another notable family, which grew to such a height that the rival clans made open war upon each other, pillaging, burning, and slaying after the manner of these times. charles called the leaders of both sides before him, and made them swear to keep the peace; but when he was at ypres in the autumn of 1126, a complaint was laid before him that bertulf, head of the erembalds, who was also provost of st. donatian's, had sent one of his nephews, burchard by name, on a raid into the lands of the straetens, whose cattle he had carried off. on hearing of this outrage, charles gave orders that burchard's house should be pulled down, and that he should compensate the straetens for their losses. the erembalds were powerless to resist this order, and burchard's house was razed to the ground. it has been said that this was only the beginning of strong measures which charles was about to take against the erembalds; but there is no certainty as to what his intentions really were. he then lived in the loove, a mansion which he had built in the bourg at bruges, on the site now occupied by the palais de justice; and there, on his return from ypres, he had a meeting with some of the erembalds, who had been sent to plead on behalf of burchard. as to what took place at this interview there is some doubt. according to one account, charles drank wine with the delegates, and granted a free pardon to burchard, on condition that he kept the peace. according to another account, his demeanour was so unbending that the erembalds left his presence full of angry suspicions, which they communicated to their friends. whatever may have happened, they were bent on mischief. burchard was sent for, and a secret consultation was held, after which burchard and a chosen few assembled in a house on the bourg and arranged their plans. this was on the night of march 1, 1127. [illustration: bruges. quai du rosaire.] at break of day next morning a cold, heavy mist hung low over bruges, and in the bourg everything was shrouded in darkness. but already some poor men were waiting in the courtyard of the loove, to whom charles gave alms on his way to early mass in the church of st. donatian. then he went along a private passage which led into the church, and knelt in prayer before the lady altar. it was his custom to give help to the needy when in church, and he had just put some money into the hands of a poor woman, when suddenly she called out: 'beware, sir count!' he turned quickly round, and there, sword in hand, was burchard, who had stolen up the dim aisle to where charles was kneeling. the next moment burchard struck, and charles fell dead upon the steps of the altar. then followed a scene of wild confusion. the woman ran out into the bourg, calling loudly that the count was slain. in the midst of the uproar some of the royal household fled in terror, while others who entered the church were butchered by the erembalds, who next attacked the loove, and, having pillaged it, rushed over bruges, slaughtering without mercy all who dared to oppose them. after some time one of the count's servants ventured to cover the dead body with a winding-sheet, and to surround it with lighted tapers; and there it remained lying on the pavement, until at last the erembalds, who were afraid to bury it in bruges lest the sight of the tomb of charles the good should one day rouse the townsmen to avenge his death, sent a message to ghent, begging the abbot of st. peter's to take it away and bury it in his own church. the abbot came to bruges, and before dawn the body of the murdered count was being stealthily carried along the aisles of st. donatian's, when a great crowd rushed in, declaring that the bones of charles must be allowed to rest in peace at bruges. the arches rang with cries, chairs were overturned, stools and candlesticks were thrown about, as the people, pressing and struggling round the abbot and his servants, told bertulf, with many an oath, that he must yield to their wishes. at last the provost submitted, and on the morrow, just two days after the murder, the body of charles was buried before the lady altar, on the very spot, it is said, where the statue of van eyck now stands under the trees in the bourg. the triumph of the erembalds was short, for the death of charles the good was terribly avenged by his friends, who came to bruges at the head of a large force. a fierce struggle took place at the rue de l'âne aveugle, where many were slain. the erembalds were driven into the bourg, the gates of which they shut; but an entrance was forced, and, after desperate fighting, some thirty of them, all who remained alive, were compelled to take refuge, first in the nave and then in the tower of the church of st. donatian, where, defending themselves with the courage of despair, they made a last stand, until, worn out by fatigue and hunger, they surrendered and came down. bertulf the provost, burchard, and a few of the other ringleaders had fled some days before, and so escaped, for a time at least, the fate of their companions, who, having been imprisoned in a dungeon, were taken to the top of the church tower and flung down one by one on to the stones of the bourg. 'their bodies,' says mr. gilliat-smith, 'were thrown into a marsh beyond the village of st. andré, and for years afterwards no man after nightfall would willingly pass that way.' in the church of st. sauveur there is a costly shrine containing what are said to be the bones of charles the good, taken from their first resting-place, at which twice every year a festival is held in commemoration of his virtues. the béguinage--churches--the relic of the holy blood chapter iii the béguinage--churches--the relic of the holy blood bruges is one of the most catholic towns in catholic flanders. convents and religious houses of all sorts have always flourished there, and at present there are no less than forty-five of these establishments. probably one of the most interesting to english people is the couvent des dames anglaises, which was founded in 1629 by the english augustinian nuns of ste. monica's convent at louvain. its chapel, with a fine dome of the eighteenth century, contains a beautiful altar built of marbles brought from egypt, greece, and persia; and amongst its possessions is the rosary of catherine of braganza (queen of charles ii. of england), who died at bruges. and then there is the béguinage. there are béguinages at amsterdam and breda, but with this exception of holland, belgium is now the only country in europe where these societies, the origin of whose name is uncertain, are to be found. they consist of spinsters or widows, who, though bound by a few conventual oaths during their connection with the society, may return to the world. on entering each sister pays a sum of money to the general funds, and at first lives for a time along with other novices. at the end of this term of probation they are at liberty to occupy one of the small dwellings within the precincts of the béguinage, and keep house for themselves. they spend their time in sewing, making lace, educating poor children, visiting the sick, or any form of good works for which they may have a taste. they are under a mother superior, the 'grande dame,' appointed by the bishop of the diocese, and must attend the services in the church of their béguinage. thus the béguine, living generally in a house of her own, and free to reenter the world, occupies a different position from the nuns of the better-known orders, though so long as she remains a member of her society she is bound by the vows of chastity and obedience to her ecclesiastical superiors. [illustration: bruges. the béguinage.] the béguinage at bruges, founded in the thirteenth century, is situated near the minnewater, or lac d'amour, which every visitor is taken to see. this sheet of placid water, bordered by trees, which was a harbour in the busy times, is one of the prettiest bits of bruges; and they say that if you go there at midnight, and stand upon the bridge which crosses it on the south, any wish which you may form will certainly come to pass. it is better to go alone, for strict silence is necessary to insure the working of this charm. a bridge over the water which runs from the lac d'amour leads through a gateway into the béguinage, where a circle of small houses--whitewashed, with stepped gables, and green woodwork on the windows--surrounds a lawn planted with tall trees. there is a view of the spire of notre dame beyond the roofs, a favourite subject for the painters who come here in numbers on summer afternoons. the church of ste. elizabeth, an unpretentious building, stands on one side of the lawn; and within it, many times a day, the sisters may be seen on their knees repeating the offices of the church. when the service is finished they rise, remove their white head-coverings, and return demurely to their quaint little homes. bruges has, needless to say, many churches, but nothing which can be compared to the magnificent cathedral of antwerp, to the imposing front of ste. gudule at brussels, or to the huge mass which forms such a conspicuous landmark for several leagues round malines. still, some of the churches are not without interest: the cathedral of st. sauveur, where the stalls of the knights of the order of the golden fleece, which was founded at bruges, are to be seen in the choir, and over one of them the arms of edward iv. of england; the curious little church of jerusalem, with its 'holy sepulchre,' an exact copy of the traditionary grave in palestine--a dark vault, entered by a passage so low that one must crawl through it, and where a light burns before a figure which lies there wrapped in a linen cloth; and the church of notre dame, which contains some treasures, such as a lovely white marble statue of the virgin and child, from the chisel of michael angelo; the tombs of charles the bold of burgundy and his daughter--the 'gentle mary,' whose untimely death at bruges in 1482, after a short married life, saved her from witnessing the misfortunes which clouded the last years of her husband, the archduke maximilian; and a portion of the holy cross, which came to bruges in the fifteenth century. the story goes that a rich merchant, a dutchman from dordrecht, schoutteeten by name, who lived at bruges, was travelling through syria in the year 1380. one day, when journeying with a caravan, he saw a man hiding something in a wood, and, following him, discovered that it was a box, which he suspected might contain something valuable. mijnheer schoutteeten appropriated the box, and carried it home from syria to dordrecht, where a series of miracles began to occur of such a nature as to make it practically certain that the box (or some wood which it contained, for on this point the legend is vague) was a part of the true cross! in course of time schoutteeten died in the odour of sanctity, having on his death-bed expressed a wish that the wood which he had brought from the east should be given to the church of notre dame at bruges. his widow consoled herself by taking a second husband, who, uutenhove by name, fulfilled the pious request of his predecessor, and thus another relic was added to the large collection which is preserved in the various churches and religious houses of bruges. it was brought to flanders in the year 1473, and must have been a source of considerable revenue to the church since then. the buildings of notre dame, with the well-known gruthuise mansion which adjoins them, and the singularly graceful spire, higher than the belfry tower, rising from the exquisite portico called 'het paradijs,' form a very beautiful group; but, with this exception, there is nothing remarkable about the churches of bruges. one of them, however, has a peculiar interest--the chapelle du saint-sang, which stands in the place du bourg in the corner next to the hôtel de ville. it is built in two stories. the lower, a dark, solemn chapel, like a crypt, was dedicated to st. basil at an early period, and is one of the oldest buildings in bruges. the greater part of the upper story does not date further back than the fifteenth century. but it is not the fabric itself, venerable though that is, but what it contains, that makes this place the holy of holies in the religious life of bruges; for here, in a costly shrine of gold and silver adorned with precious stones, they guard the wonderful relic which was brought from palestine in the time of the crusaders by thierry d'alsace, count of flanders, and which is still worshipped by thousands of devout believers every year. thierry d'alsace, the old chroniclers tell us, visited the holy land four times, and was the leader of the flemish warriors who, roused by the eloquence of st. bernard of clairvaux, joined the second crusade in the summer of 1147. he had married sybilla, sister of baldwin, king of jerusalem; and when the time came for his return to europe, his brother-in-law and the patriarch of jerusalem resolved to reward his services by giving him a part of the most valuable relic which the church in palestine possessed, which was a small quantity of a red liquid, said to be blood and water, which, according to immemorial tradition, joseph of arimathæa had preserved after he had washed the dead body of jesus. the earlier history of this relic is unknown, and is as obscure as that of the other 'relics of the holy blood' which are to be found in various places. but there can be no doubt whatever that in the twelfth century the christians at jerusalem believed that it had been in existence since the day of the crucifixion. it was, therefore, presented to thierry with great solemnity in the church of the holy sepulchre during the christmas festivals of 1148. the patriarch, having displayed the vessel which contained it to the people, divided the contents into two portions, one of which he poured into a small vial, the mouth of which was carefully sealed up and secured with gold wire. this vessel was next enclosed in a crystal tube, shut at the ends with golden stoppers, to which ax chain of silver was attached. then the patriarch gave the tube to baldwin, from whose hands thierry, kneeling on the steps of the altar, received it with profound emotion.[*] [footnote *: canon van haecke, _le précieux sang à bruges_ (fourth edition), pp. 95, 96.] the count, however, did not think his hands, which had shed so much human blood, worthy to convey the relic home; and he entrusted it to leonius, chaplain of the flemish army, who hung it round his neck, and so carried it to bruges, where he arrived in may, 1150, along with thierry, who, mounted on a white horse led by two barefooted monks, and holding the relic in his hand, was conducted in state to the bourg, where he deposited the precious object in the chapel of st. basil, which is commonly known as the chapel of the holy blood. after some time the relic was found to be dry, but, strange to say, it became liquid, we are told upon the authority of pope clement v., every friday, 'usually at six o'clock.' this weekly miracle continued till about the year 1325. since then it has never taken place except once, in 1388, when the vial containing the relic was being transferred to a new crystal tube; and on this occasion william, bishop of ancona, was astonished to see the relic turning redder than usual, and some drops, as of newly-shed blood, flowing within the vial, which he was holding in his hand. many notable persons who were present, one of them the bishop of lincoln, testified to this event! other miracles wrought through the agency of this relic are recorded. a child which had been born dead was taken to the shrine, and came to life after three days. a young girl who had suffered for twenty months from an issue of blood, and for whom the doctors could do nothing, was cured by the application of a piece of cloth which had been used to cover the relic. another girl who had been paralyzed for a long time, being carried into the chapel of st. basil, was restored to complete strength the moment she kissed the crystal tube. in december, 1689, a fire broke out in the bourg, and threatened to destroy the hôtel de ville; but a priest brought forth the tube containing the relic, and held it up before the flames, which were instantly extinguished. these and many other similar miracles, confirmed by the oath of witnesses and received by the church at the present day as authentic, make the relic an object of profound devotion to the people of bruges and the peasants of the surrounding country, who go in crowds to bow before it twice every friday, when it is exhibited for public worship. it was nearly lost on several occasions in the days of almost constant war, and during the french revolution it was concealed for some years in the house of a private citizen. the chapel of st. basil suffered from the disturbed condition of the country, and when napoleon came to bruges in 1810 it was such a complete wreck that the magistrates were on the point of sweeping it away altogether. but napoleon saved it, declaring that when he looked on the ruins he fancied himself once more amongst the antiquities of egypt, and that to destroy them would be a crime. four years after the battle of waterloo the relic was brought out from its hiding-place, and in 1856 the chapel was restored from the designs of two english architects, william brangwyn and thomas harper king.[*] [footnote *: gilliat-smith, _the story of bruges_, p. 103.] on the first monday after the 2nd of may every year the town of bruges is full of strangers, who have come to witness the celebrated 'procession of the holy blood,' which there is good reason to believe has taken place annually (except during the french revolution) for the last 755 years. very early in the day a mass is celebrated in the upper chapel of the holy blood, which is crowded to the doors. in the crypt, or lower chapel, where many people are kneeling before the sacred images, the gloom, the silence, the bent figures dimly seen in the faint yellow light of a few tapers, make up a weird scene all the morning till about nine o'clock, when the relic, in its 'châsse,' or tabernacle, is carried to the cathedral of st. sauveur, and placed on the high altar, while a pontifical mass is celebrated by one of the bishops. when that is done, the procession starts on its march along the chief thoroughfares of the town. the houses are decorated with flags, and candles burn in almost every window. through the narrow streets, between crowds of people standing on the pavements or looking down from the windows, while the church bells ring and wreaths of incense fill the air, bands of music, squadrons of cavalry, crucifixes, shrines, images, the banners of the parishes and the guilds, heralds in their varied dresses, bareheaded pilgrims from england, france, and other countries, pages, maidens in white, bearing palms, or crowns of thorn, or garlands, priests with relics, acolytes and chanting choristers, pass slowly along. the buffoonery of the middle ages, when giants, ballet-dancers, and mythological characters figured in the scene, has been abandoned; but abraham and isaac, king david and king solomon, joseph and the virgin mary, the magi, and many saints and martyrs, walk in the long procession, which is closed by the bishops and clergy accompanying the gorgeous shrine containing the small tube of something red like blood, before which all the people sink to the ground, and remain kneeling till it has passed. the proceedings of the day end with a benediction at an altar erected in front of the hôtel de ville. the bourg is filled from side to side with those who have taken part in the procession, and by thousands of spectators who have followed them from all parts of the town to witness the closing scene. the crowd gathers under the trees and along the sides of the square, the centre of which, occupied by the processionists, is a mass of colour, above which the standards and images which have been carried through the streets rise against the dark background of the hôtel de ville and the chapel of the holy blood. the relic is taken out of the châsse, and a priest, standing on the steps of the altar high above the crowd, holds it up to be worshipped. everyone bows low, and then, in dead silence, the mysterious object is carried into the chapel, and with this the chief religious ceremony of the year at bruges is brought to a close. there are sights in bruges that night, within a stone's-throw of the chapel of the holy blood, which are worth seeing, they contrast so strangely with all this fervour of religion. the curtain has fallen upon the drama of the day. the flags are furled and put aside. the vestments are in the sacristy. shrines, canopies, censers, all the objects carried in the procession, have disappeared into the churches. the church doors are locked, and the images are left to stand all night without so much as one solitary worshipper kneeling before them. the bourg is empty and dark, steeped in black shadows at the door of the chapel where the relic has been laid to rest. it is all quiet there, but a stroll through the rue de l'âne aveugle and across the canal by the bridge which leads to the purlieus of the fish-markets brings one upon another scene. every second house, if not every house, is a café, 'herberg,' or 'estaminet,' with a bar and sanded floor and some rough chairs and tables; and on the night of the procession of the holy blood they are crowded to the doors. peasants from the country are there in great force. for some days before and after the sacred festival the villagers are in the habit of coming into bruges--whole families of them, father and mother, sons and daughters, all in their best finery. they walk through the streets, following the route by which the holy blood is carried, telling their beads and saying their prayers, crossing themselves, and kneeling at any image of christ, or madonna, or saint, which they may notice at the street corners. it is curious to watch their sunburnt faces and uncouth ways as they slouch along, their hands busy with their beads, and their lips never ceasing for a moment to mutter prayer after prayer. they follow in the wake of the procession of the holy blood, or wait to fall upon their knees when it passes and receive the blessing of the bishop, who walks with fingers raised, scattering benedictions from side to side. in the evening, before starting for home, they go to the cafés. as evening passes into night the sounds of music and dancing are heard. at the doors people sit drinking round tables placed on the pavement or in the rank, poisonous gutter. the hot air is heavy with the smell of decayed fish. inside the cafés men and women, old and young, are dancing in the fetid atmosphere to jingling pianos or accordions. the heat, the close, sour fumes of musty clothing, tobacco, beer, gin, fried fish, and unwashed humanity, are overpowering. there are disgusting sights in all directions. fat women, with red, perspiring faces and dirty fingers, still clutching their rosaries; tawdry girls, field-workers, with flushed faces, dancing with country lads, most of whom are more than half tipsy; ribald jokes and laughter and leering eyes; reeling, drunken men; maudlin affection in one corner, and jealous disputing in another; crying babies; beer and gin spilt on the tables; and all sorts of indecency and hideous details which swift might have gloated over or hogarth painted. this is how the day of the holy blood procession is finished by many of the countryfolk. the brutal cabaret comes after the prayers and adoration of the morning! it is a world of contrasts. but soon the lights are out, the shutters are put up, the last customer goes staggering homewards, and the belfry speaks again, as it spoke when the sweet singer lay dreaming at the fleur-de-blé: 'in the ancient town of bruges, in the quaint old flemish city, as the evening shades descended, low and loud and sweetly blended, low at times and loud at times, and changing like a poet's rhymes, rang the beautiful wild chimes from the belfry in the market of the ancient town of bruges. then, with deep sonorous clangour, calmly answering their sweet anger, when the wrangling bells had ended, slowly struck the clock eleven, and, from out the silent heaven, silence on the town descended. silence, silence everywhere, on the earth and in the air, save that footsteps here and there of some burgher home returning, by the street lamps faintly burning, for a moment woke the echoes of the ancient town of bruges.' [illustration: bruges. quai des marbriers.] the bruges matins--battle of the golden spurs chapter iv the bruges matins--battle of the golden spurs the visitor to bruges is reminded, wherever he goes, of the stirring events which fill the chronicles of the town for several centuries. opposite the belfry, in the middle of the market-place, is the monument to peter de coninck and john breidel, on which garlands of flowers are laid every summer, in memory of what they did when the burghers rose against the french in may, 1302; and amongst the modern frescoes which cover the walls of the grande salle des échevins in the hôtel de ville, with its roof of fourteenth-century woodwork, is one which represents the return from the battle of the golden spurs, that famous fight in which the hardy peasantry of flanders overthrew the knights of france whom philip the fair had sent to avenge the blood of the frenchmen who had died on the terrible morning of the 'bruges matins.' the fourteenth century had opened. the town had now reached the limits which have contained it ever since--an irregular oval with a circumference of between four and five miles, surrounded by double ditches, and a strong wall pierced by nine fortified gateways; and as the town had grown, the privileges and liberties of the townsmen had grown likewise. sturdy, independent, and resolved to keep the management of their own affairs in their own hands, the burghers of bruges, like those of the other flemish towns, had succeeded in establishing a system of self-government so complete that it roused the opposition of guy de dampierre, count of flanders, whose efforts to diminish the power of these communities at length brought about a crisis which gave philip the fair of france an excuse for interfering. the count, having to contend both against his own subjects and against the ambitions of the king of france, fell from power, and in the end flanders was annexed to france. soon after this rich province had been added to his domains, philip came with his wife, joanna of navarre, on a visit to bruges. already there were two factions in the town--the leliarts, or french party, consisting chiefly of the upper classes, and the clauwerts, or flemish party, to which the mass of the people belonged. by the former philip was received in royal fashion, and so magnificent were the dresses and jewels worn by the wives and daughters of the nobles and rich burgesses, who sat in the windows and balconies as the royal procession passed along, that the queen was moved to jealousy. 'i thought,' she said, 'that i alone was queen; but here in this place i have six hundred rivals.' but in the streets below there were sullen looks and murmurs of discontent, which grew louder and louder every day, when, after the departure of the court, the magistrates, who belonged to the french party, proposed that the merchant guilds should find money to defray some of the expenses which had been incurred on this occasion. at this time peter de coninck was dean of the guild of weavers, a man of substance, popular and eloquent. there was a tumultuous gathering in the market-place, when, standing in front of the belfry, with the leaders of five-and-twenty guilds around him, he declaimed on liberty, and attacked the magistrates, calling on his fellow-townsmen to resist the taxes. the city officers, on the order of the magistrates, arrested de coninck and his chief supporters, and hurried them to the prison in the bourg. but in a few hours the mob forced an entrance and released them. the signal for revolt had been given, and for some months bruges, like the rest of flanders, was in disorder. de coninck, who had been joined by john breidel, dean of the guild of butchers, was busy rousing the people in all parts of the country. he visited ghent, amongst other places, and tried to persuade the magistrates that if ghent and bruges united their forces the whole flemish people would rise, crush the leliarts, and expel the french. but the men of ghent would not listen to him, and he returned to bruges. here, too, he met with a rebuff, for the magistrates, having heard that jacques de châtillon, whom philip had made governor of flanders, was marching on the town, would not allow him to remain amongst them. he went to damme, and with him went, not only breidel, but 5,000 burghers of the national party, stout clauwerts, who had devoted themselves to regaining the liberty of their country. [illustration: a flemish young woman] when châtillon rode up to the walls of bruges and demanded entrance the magistrates agreed to open the gates, on condition that he brought with him only 300 men-at-arms. but he broke his word, and the town was entered by 2,000 knights, whose haughty looks and threatening language convinced the people that treachery was intended. it was whispered in the market-place that the waggons which rumbled over the drawbridges carried ropes with which the clauwerts who had remained in the town were to be hanged; that there was to be a general massacre, in which not even the women and children would be spared; and that the frenchmen never unbuckled their swords or took off their armour, but were ready to begin the slaughter at any moment. it was a day of terror in bruges, and when evening came some of the burghers slipped out, made their way to damme, and told de coninck what was passing in the town. that night châtillon gave a feast to his chief officers, and amongst his guests was pierre flotte, chancellor of france, perhaps the ablest of those jurists by whose evil councils philip the fair was encouraged in the ideas of autocracy which led him to make the setting up of a despotism the policy of his whole life. with flotte--'that belial,' as pope boniface viii. once called him--and the rest, châtillon sat revelling till a late hour. the night wore on; de châtillon's party broke up, and went to rest; the weary sentinels were half asleep at their posts; and soon all bruges was buried in silence. here and there lights twinkled in some of the guild-houses, where a few of the burghers sat anxiously waiting for what the morrow might bring forth, while others went to the ramparts on the north, and strained their eyes to see if help was coming from damme. at early dawn--it was friday, may 18, 1302--the watchers on the ramparts saw a host of armed men rapidly approaching the town. they were divided into two parties, one of which, led by de coninck, made for the porte ste. croix, while the other, under breidel, marched to the porte de damme, a gateway which no longer exists, but which was then one of the most important entrances, being that by which travellers came from damme and sluis. messengers from the ramparts ran swiftly through the streets, in which daylight was now beginning to appear, and spread the news from house to house. silently the burghers took their swords and pikes, left their homes, and gathered in the market-place and near the houses in which the french were sleeping. the french slept on till, all of a sudden, they were wakened by the tramp of feet, the clash of arms, and shouts of 'flanders for the lion!' breidel had led his men into the town, and they were rushing through the streets to where châtillon had taken up his quarters, while de coninck, having passed through the porte ste. croix, was marching to the bourg. the frenchmen, bewildered, surprised, and only half awake, ran out into the streets. the flemings were shouting 'schilt ende vriendt! schilt ende vriendt!'[*] and every man who could not pronounce these words was known to be a frenchman, and slain upon the spot. some fled to the gates; but at every gate they found a band of guards, who called out 'schilt ende vriendt!' and put them to the sword. [footnote *: 'shield and friend!'] all that summer's morning, and on throughout the day, the massacre continued. old men, women, and children hurled stones from the roofs and windows down upon the enemy. breidel, a man of great strength, killed many with his own hand, and those whom he wounded were beaten to death where they fell by the apprentices with their iron clubs. in the market-place, close to where the monument to de coninck and breidel stands, a party of soldiers, under a gallant french knight, gauthier de sapignies, made a stand; but they were overpowered and slaughtered to the last man. châtillon tried to rally his forces, but the surprise had been too complete, and, disguising himself in the cassock of a priest, he hid, in company with chancellor flotte, till it was dark, when they managed to escape from the town. by this time the carnage had ceased; the walls of the houses and the gutters ran with blood; and the burghers of bruges had done their work so thoroughly that 2,000 frenchmen lay dead upon the streets. but the final reckoning with france was yet to come. then châtillon reached paris and told his master the direful story of the bruges matins, philip swore revenge; and a few weeks later an army 40,000 strong invaded flanders, under the comte d'artois, with whom rode also châtillon, flotte, and many nobles of france. the flemings went to meet them--not only the burghers of bruges, led by de coninck and breidel, marching under the banners of their guilds, but men from every part of flanders--and on july 11, near courtrai, the battle of the golden spurs was fought. [illustration: a flemish burgher] the ground was marshy, with a stream and pools of water between the two armies; and just as the scots at bannockburn, twelve years afterwards, prepared pitfalls for the heavy cavalry of england, so the flemings laid a trap for the french knights by cutting down brushwood and covering the water. the horsemen, clad in cumbrous armour, charged, the brushwood gave way, and most of them sank into the water. the comte d'artois got clear, but was beaten to the ground and killed. the chancellor flotte, who had boasted that he would bring the people of bruges to their knees, was trampled to death. châtillon died too; and when, at last, a long day's fighting came to an end, the flemings had gained a complete victory. by this battle, which took its name from the thousands of golden spurs which were torn from the french knights who fell, the victors secured--for a time, at least--the liberty of their country, and the memory of it was for many a day to flanders what the memory of bannockburn was to scotland, or of morgarten to switzerland. damme--the sea-fight at sluis--splendour of bruges in the middle ages--the fall and loss of trade chapter v damme--the sea-fight at sluis--splendour of bruges in the middle ages--the fall and loss of trade damme, where the patriots mustered on the eve of the bruges matins, is within a short hour's stroll from the east end of the town. the roya, which disappears from view, as we have already seen, opposite the quai du rosaire, emerges from its hidden course at the west end of the quai du miroir, where the statue of jan van eyck stands near the door of the building now used as a public library. this building was once the customs house of bruges, conveniently situated in the neighbourhood of the market-place, and on the side of the roya, which thence stretches eastwards between the quai du miroir and the quai spinola for a few hundred yards, and then turns sharply to the north, and continues between the quai long and the quai de la potterie, which are built in rambling fashion on either side of the water. some of the houses are old, others of no earlier date, apparently, than the seventeenth or eighteenth centuries; some large and well preserved, and some mere cottages, half ruinous, with low gables and faded yellow fronts, huddled together on the rough causeway, alongside of which are moored canal-boats with brown hulls and deck-houses gay with white and green paint. at the end of the quai de la potterie is the modern bassin de commerce, in which the roya loses itself, the harbour for the barges and small steamers which come by the canal connecting ostend with bruges and ghent; and near this was, in ancient days, the porte de damme, through which breidel and his followers burst on that fateful morning in may 600 years ago. to the right of the bassin a broad canal, constructed by napoleon in 1810, extends in a straight line eastwards, contained within dykes which raise it above a wide expanse of level meadow-lands intersected by ditches, and dotted here and there by the white-walled cottages with red roofs and green outside shutters which are so typical of flemish scenery. about two miles out of bruges one comes in sight of a windmill perched on a slope at the side of the canal, a square church-tower, a few houses, and some grassy mounds, which were once strong fortifications. even the historical imagination, which everyone who walks round bruges must carry with him, is hardly equal to realizing that this was once a bustling seaport, with a harbour in which more than a hundred merchant ships, laden with produce from all parts of the world, were sometimes lying at the same time. in those busy times damme, they say, contained 50,000 inhabitants; now there are only about 1,100. beyond damme the canal winds on through the same flat landscape, low-lying, water-logged, with small farmhouses and scanty trees, and in the distance, on the few patches of higher ground, the churches of oostkerke and westcapelle. at last, soon after passing the dutch frontier, the canal ends in a little dock with gray, lichen-covered sides; and this is sluis, a dull place, with a few narrow streets, a market-place, two churches, and a belfry of the fourteenth century. it is quite inland now, miles from the salt water; and from the high ramparts which still surround it the view extends to the north across broad green fields, covering what was once the bed of the sea, in the days when the tide ebbed and flowed in the channel of the zwijn, over which ships passed sailing on their way to bruges. but any english traveller who, having gone a little way out of the beaten track of summer tourists, may chance to mount the ramparts, and look down upon the fields which stretch away to the shores of the north sea and the estuary of the scheldt, and inland beyond damme to the belfry and the spires of bruges, is gazing on the scene of a great event in the naval history of england. here, on what is now dry land, on the morning of june 24, 1340, 800 ships of war, full of armed men--35,000 of them--were drawn up in line of battle; and further out to sea, beyond the entrance of the zwijn, the newly-risen sun was shining on the sails of another fleet which was man�uvring in the offing. [illustration: bruges. qua du miroir] 'in the cities of flanders,' says dr. gardiner, 'had arisen manufacturing populations which supplied the countries round with the products of the loom. to the ghent and bruges of the middle ages england stood in the same relation as that which the australian colonies hold to the leeds and bradford of our own day. the sheep which grazed over the wide, unenclosed pasture-lands of our island formed a great part of the wealth of england, and that wealth depended entirely on the flourishing trade with the flemish towns in which english wool was converted into cloth.' when, therefore, edward iii. claimed the throne of france, and the hundred years' war began, it was of vital importance to the trade of flanders and england that the merchants of the two countries should maintain friendly relations with each other. but philip of valois had persuaded the count of flanders, louis de nevers, to order the arrest of all the english in flanders, and edward had retaliated by arresting all the flemings who were in england, and forbidding the export of english wool to flanders. the result was that the weavers of bruges and the other manufacturing towns of flanders found themselves on the road to ruin; and, having no interest in the question at issue between the kings of france and england, apart from its effect on their commercial prosperity, the burghers of bruges, ghent, and ypres, under the leadership of the famous jacob van artevelde (anticipating, as one of the modern historians of bruges has noticed, what the great powers did for belgium in 1830[*]), succeeded in securing, with the assent of philip, the neutrality of flanders. the french king, however, did not keep faith with the flemings, but proceeded to acts of aggression against them, and a league against france was formed between england and flanders. [footnote *: robinson, _bruges, an historical sketch_, p. 107.] in june, 1340, edward, who was then in england, hearing that an immense number of french ships of war were at anchor in the zwijn, set sail to give them battle with a squadron of 300 vessels. the english fleet anchored off the coast between blankenberghe and heyst on the evening of june 23, and from the top of the dunes the english scouts saw in the distance the masts of the french ships in the zwijn. as soon as there was light next morning, the english weighed anchor and sailed along the coast to the east; past lonely yellow sands, which have swarmed during recent years with workmen toiling at the construction of the immense harbour of see-brugge, which is to be the future port of bruges; past what was then the small fishing hamlet of heyst; past a range of barren dunes, amongst which to-day duinbergen, the latest of the flemish watering-places, with its spacious hotel and trim villas, is being laid out; past a waste of storm-swept sand and rushes, on which are now the digue of knocke, a cluster of hotels and crowded lodging-houses, and a golf-course; and so onwards till they opened the mouth of the zwijn, and saw the french ships crowding the entrance, 'their masts appearing to be like a great wood,' and beyond them the walls of sluis rising from the wet sands left by the receding tide. it was low-water, and while waiting for the turn of the tide the english fleet stood out to sea for some time, so that nicholas béhuchet, the french admiral, began to flatter himself that king edward, finding himself so completely outnumbered, would not dare to risk fighting against such odds. the odds, indeed, were nearly three to one against the english seamen; but as soon as the tide began to flow they steered straight into the channel, and, edward leading the van, came to close quarters, ship to ship. the famous archers of england, who six years later were to do such execution at crecy, lined the bulwarks, and poured in a tempest of arrows so thick that men fell from the tops of the french ships like leaves before a storm. the first of the four lines in which béhuchet had drawn up his fleet was speedily broken, and the english, brandishing their swords and pikes, boarded the french ships, drove their crews overboard, and hoisted the flag of england. king edward was wounded, and the issue may have been doubtful, when suddenly more ships, coming from the north of england, appeared in sight, and hordes of flemings from all parts of flanders, from the coast, and even from inland towns so far away as ypres,[*] came swarming in boats to join in the attack. this decided the fate of the great battle, which continued till sunset. when it ended, the french fleet had ceased to exist, with the exception of a few ships which escaped when it was dark. the flemings captured béhuchet, and hung him then and there. nearly 30,000 of his men perished, many of whom were drowned while attempting to swim ashore, or were clubbed to death by the flemings who lined the beach, waiting to take vengeance on the invaders for having burned their homesteads and carried off their flocks. the english lost two ships and 4,000 men; but the victory was so complete that no courtier was bold enough to carry the news to king philip, who did not know what had befallen his great fleet till the court jester went to him, and said, 'oh! the english cowards! the english cowards! they had not the courage to jump into the sea as our noble frenchmen did at sluis.' [footnote *: vereecke, _histoire militaire de la ville d'ypres_, p. 36.] it is strange to think that flemish peasants work, and cattle feed, and holiday visitors from knocke, or sluis, or kadzand ramble about dry-shod where the waves were rolling in on that midsummer's morning, and that far beneath the grass the timbers of so many stout ships and the bones of so many valiant seamen have long since mouldered away. and it is also strange to think, when wandering along the canals of bruges, where now the swans glide silently about in the almost stagnant water which laps the basements of the old houses, how in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries ships of every nation carried in great bales of merchandise, and that rich traders stored them in warehouses and strong vaults, which are now mere coal-cellars, or the dark and empty haunts of the rats which swarm in the canals. 'there is,' says mr. robinson, 'in the national library at paris a list of the kingdoms and cities which sent their produce to bruges at that time. england sent wool, lead, tin, coal, and cheese; ireland and scotland, chiefly hides and wool; denmark, pigs; russia, hungary, and bohemia, large quantities of wax; poland, gold and silver; germany, wine; liége, copper kettles; and bulgaria, furs.' after naming many parts of europe, asia, and africa, that sent goods, the manuscript adds: 'and all the aforesaid realms and regions send their merchants with wares to flanders, besides those who come from france, poitou, and gascony, and from the three islands of which we know not the names of their kingdoms.' the trade of bruges was enormous. people flocked there from all quarters. 'lombard and venetian merchants with deep-laden argosies; ministers from twenty nations; more than royal pomp and ease.' we read of 150 ships entering in one day, and of german merchants buying 2,600 pieces of cloth, made by flemish weavers, in a morning's marketing. a citizen of bruges was always at the head of the hanseatic league, and maintained the rights of that vast commercial society under the title of 'comte de la hanse.' merchant princes, members of the hanse, lived here in palaces. money-changers grew rich. edward iii. borrowed from the bardi at bruges on the security of the crown jewels of england. contracts of insurance against maritime risks were entered into from an early period, and the merchant shipping code which regulated traffic by sea was known as the 'röles de damme.'[*] there were twenty consulates at one time in bruges, and the population of the town is said, though it is difficult to believe that this is not an exaggeration, to have been more than 200,000 before the middle of the fourteenth century. [footnote *: gilliodts van severen, _bruges ancienne et moderne_, p. 14.] six years after the battle of sluis, louis of nevers was killed at crecy, and his son, louis of maele, reigned in his stead as count of flanders. he was a leliart to the core, and his reign of nearly forty years, one long struggle against the liberties of his people, witnessed the capture of bruges by philip van artevelde, the invasion of flanders by the french, the defeat of the nationalists, and the death of van artevelde on the field of roosebeke. nevertheless, during this period and after it bruges grew in beauty and in wealth. the hôtel de ville, without the grandeur of the hôtel de ville at brussels, but still a gem of mediæval architecture, was built on the site of the old 'ghiselhuis' of baldwin bras-de-fer. other noble buildings, rich in design and beautiful in all their outlines, and great mansions, with marble halls and ceilings of exquisitely carved woodwork, rose on every side; towers and pinnacles, shapely windows and graceful arches, overhung the waterways; luxury increased; in the homes of the nobles and wealthy merchants were stores of precious stones, tapestries, silk, fine linen, cloth of gold; the churches and many buildings gleamed with gilded stone and tinted glass and brilliant frescoes. art flourished as the town grew richer. the elder and the younger van eyck, gerard david, and memlinc, with many others before and after them, were attracted by its splendour, as modern painters have been attracted by its decay; and though the 'adoration of the immaculate lamb' hangs in the choir of st. bavon at ghent, the genius which coloured that matchless altar-piece found its inspiration within the walls of bruges. the history of bruges for many long years, especially under the rule of the house of burgundy, was, in the midst of war, turmoil, and rebellion, the history of continuous progress. but all this prosperity depended on the sea. so long as the zwijn remained open, neither war nor faction, not even the last great rising against the archduke maximilian, which drove away the foreign merchants, most of whom went to antwerp, and so impoverished the town that no less than 5,000 houses were standing empty in the year 1405,[*] could have entirely ruined bruges. these disasters might have been retrieved if the channel of communication with damme and sluis had not been lost; but for a long time the condition of this important waterway had been the cause of grave anxiety to the people of bruges. the heavy volume of water which poured with every ebbing tide down the scheldt between flushing and breskens swept past the island of walcheren, and spread out into the north sea and down the english channel, leaving the mud it carried with it on the sands round the mouth of the zwijn, which itself did not discharge a current strong enough to prevent the slow but sure formation of a bank across its entrance. charters, moreover, had been granted to various persons, under which they drained the adjoining lands, and gradually reclaimed large portions from the sea. the channel, at no time very deep, became shallower, narrower, and more difficult of access, until at last, during the second half of the fifteenth century, the passage between sluis and damme was navigable only by small ships. soon the harbour at damme was nearly choked up with sand. many schemes were tried in the hope of preserving the zwijn, but the sea-trade of bruges dwindled away to a mere nothing, and finally disappeared before the middle of the sixteenth century. [footnote *: gilliodts van severen, p. 25.] and so bruges fell from greatness. there are still some traces of the ancient bed of the zwijn amongst the fields near coolkerke, a village a short distance to the north of bruges--a broad ditch with broken banks, and large pools of slimy water lying desolate and forlorn in a wilderness of tangled bushes. these are now the only remains of the highway by which the 'deep-laden argosies' used to enter in the days of old. 'bruges la morte' chapter vi 'bruges la morte' they call it 'bruges la morte,' and at every turn there is something to remind us of the deadly blight which fell upon the city when its trade was lost. the faded colours, the timeworn brickwork, the indescribable look of decay which, even on the brightest morning, throws a shade of melancholy over the whole place, lead one to think of some aged dame, who has 'come down in the world,' wearing out the finery of better days. it is all very sad and pathetic, but strangely beautiful, and the painter never lived who could put on canvas the mellow tints with which time has clothed these old walls, and thus veiled with tender hand the havoc it has made. to stand on the bridge which crosses the canal at the corner of the quai des marbriers and the quai vert, where the pinnacles of the palais du franc and the roof of the hôtel de ville, with the belfry just showing above them, and dull red walls rising from the water, make up a unique picture of still-life, is to read a sermon in stones, an impressive lesson in history. the loss of trade brought bruges face to face with the 'question of the unemployed' in a very aggravated form. how to provide for the poor became a most serious problem, and so many of the people were reduced to living on charity that almshouses sprang up all over the town. god's houses ('godshuisen') they called them, and call them still. they are to be found in all directions--quaint little places, planted down here and there, each with a small chapel of its own, with moss-grown roofs and dingy walls, and doors that open on to the uneven cobbles. every stone of them spells pauperism. the church does much towards maintaining these shelters for the poor--perhaps too much, if it is true that there are 10,000 paupers in bruges out of a population of about 55,000. there is a great deal of begging in the streets, and a sad lack of sturdy self-respect amongst the lower class, which many think is caused by the system of doles, for which the church is chiefly responsible. bruges might not have been so picturesque to-day if her commerce had survived; but the beauty of a town is dearly purchased at the cost of such degradation and loss of personal independence. [illustration: bruges. view of the palais du franc.] it was not only the working class which suffered. many rich families sank into poverty, and their homes, some of which were more like palaces than private houses, had to be dismantled. the fate of one of these lordly mansions is connected with an episode which carries us back into the social life of bruges in the middle of the seventeenth century. on the right side of the rue haute, as one goes from the place du bourg, there is a high block containing two large houses, nos. 6 and 8, of that street. it is now a big, plain building without a trace of architectural distinction; but in the seventeenth century it was a single mansion, built about the year 1320, and was one of the many houses with towers which gave the bruges of that time almost the appearance of an oriental city. it was called the house of the seven towers, from the seven pinnacles which surmounted it; and at the back there was a large garden, which extended to the canal and quai des marbriers. in april, 1656, the 'tall man above two yards high, with dark brown hair, scarcely to be distinguished from black,' for whom the roundheads had searched all england after the battle of worcester, found his way to bruges, with his brother henry, duke of gloucester, and the train of royalists who formed their court. for nearly three years after worcester, charles ii. had lived in france; but in july, 1654, the alliance between cromwell and mazarin drove him to germany, where he remained till don john of austria became governor of the spanish netherlands. thereupon the prospect of recovering the english throne by the assistance of spain led him to remove his court, which had been established for some time at cologne, to flanders. he arrived at bruges on april 22, 1656. his brother james, duke of york, and afterwards king of england, held a commission in the french army, and mazarin offered him a command in italy. charles, however, requested him to leave the french army, and enter the service of spain. at first james refused; but by the mediation of their sister, the princess of orange, he was persuaded to do as his brother wished, and join the court at bruges. the irish viscount tarah received charles, when he first arrived, in his house in the rue du vieux bourg, and there gave him, we read in local history, 'une brillante hospitalité.' but in the beginning of june the court took up its quarters in the house of the seven towers. during his sojourn in flanders, charles was carefully watched by the secret service officers of the commonwealth government, who sent home reports of all he did. these reports, many of which are in the thurloe state papers and other collections, contain some curious details about the exiled court. there never was a more interesting 'english colony' at bruges than at that time. hyde, who received the great seal at bruges, was there with ormonde and the earls of bristol, norwich, and rochester. sir edward nicholas was secretary of state; and we read of colonel sydenham, sir robert murray, and 'mr. cairless', who sat on the tree with charles stewart after worcester fight. another of the exiles at bruges was sir james turner, the soldier of fortune, who served under gustavus adolphus, persecuted the covenanters in scotland, and is usually supposed to have been the original of dugald dalgetty in sir walter scott's _legend of montrose_. a list of the royal household is still preserved at bruges. it was prepared in order that the town council might fix the daily allowance of wine and beer which was to be given to the court, and contains the names of about sixty persons, with a note of the supply granted to each family. a 'letter of intelligence' (the report of a spy), dated from bruges on september 29, 1656, mentions that lilly, the astrologer of london, had written to say that the king would be restored to the throne next year, and that all the english at bruges were delighted. but in the meantime they were very hard up for ready money. ever since leaving england charles and his followers had suffered from the most direful impecuniosity. we find hyde declaring that he has 'neither shoes nor shirt.' the king himself was constantly running into debt for his meals, and his friends spent many a hungry day at bruges. if by good luck they chanced to be in funds, one meal a day sufficed for a party of half a dozen courtiers. if it was cold they could not afford to purchase firewood. the earl of norwich writes, saying that he has to move about so as to get lodgings on credit, and avoid people to whom he owes money. colonel borthwick, who claims to have served the king most faithfully, complains that he is in prison at bruges on suspicion of disloyalty, has not changed his clothes for three years, and is compelled by lack of cash to go without a fire in winter. sir james hamilton, a gentleman-in-waiting, gets drunk one day, and threatens to kill the lord chancellor. he is starving, and declares it is hyde's fault that the king gives him no money. he will put on a clean shirt to be hanged in, and not run away, being without so much as a penny. then we have the petition of a poor fencing-master. 'heaven,' he writes piteously, 'hears the groans of the lowest creatures, and therefore i trust that you, being a terrestrial deity, will not disdain my supplication.' he had come from cologne to bruges to teach the royal household, and wanted his wages, for he and his family were starving. [illustration: bruges. maison du pélican (almshouse).] don john of austria visited charles at bruges, and an allowance from the king of spain was promised, so that men might be levied for the operations against cromwell; but the payments were few and irregular. 'the english court,' says a letter of february, 1657, 'remains still at bridges [bruges], never in greater want, nor greater expectations of money, without which all their levies are like to be at a stand; for englishmen cannot live on bread alone.' a 'letter of intelligence' sent from sluis says that charles is 'much loocked upon, but littell respeckted.' and this is not wonderful if the reports sent home by the commonwealth agents are to be trusted. one of the spies who haunted the neighbourhood of bruges was a mr. butler, who writes in the winter of 1656-1657: 'this last week one of the richest churches in bruges was plundered in the night. the people of bruges are fully persuaded that charles stewart's followers have done it. they spare no pains to find out the guilty, and if it happen to light upon any of charles stewart's train, it will mightily incense that people against them.... there is now a company of french comedians at bruges, who are very punctually attended by charles stewart and his court, and all the ladies there. their most solemn day of acting is the lord's day. i think i may truly say that greater abominations were never practised among people than at this day at charles stewart's court. fornication, drunkenness, and adultery are esteemed no sins amongst them; so i persuade myself god will never prosper any of their attempts.'[*] in another letter we read that once, after a hunting expedition, charles and a gentleman of the bedchamber were the only two who came back sober. sir james turner was mad when drunk, 'and that was pretty often,' says bishop burnet. [footnote *: letter from mr. j. butler, flushing, december 2, 1656, thurloe state papers, v., 645.] but, of course, it was the business of the spies to blacken the character of charles; and there can be little doubt that, in spite of his poverty and loose morals, he was well liked by the citizens of bruges, who, notwithstanding a great deal of outward decorum, have at no time been very strait-laced. 'charles,' we learn from a local history, 'sut se rendre populaire en prenant part aux amusements de la population et en se pliant, sans effort comme sans affectation, aux usages du pays.' during his whole period of exile he contrived to amuse himself. affairs of gallantry, dancing, tennis, billiards, and other frivolous pursuits, occupied as much of his attention as the grave affairs of state over which hyde and ormonde spent so many anxious hours. when on a visit to brussels in the spring of 1657, he employed, we are told, most of his time with don john dancing, or at 'long paume, a spanish play with balls filled with wire.' and, again: 'he passes his time with shooting at bruges, and such other obscure pastimes.' this 'shooting' was the favourite flemish sport of shooting with bow and arrows at an artificial bird fixed on a high pole, the prize being, on great occasions, a golden bird, which was hung by a chain of gold round the winner's neck. in the records of the guilds of st. george and st. sebastian at bruges there are notices relating to charles. the former was a society of cross-bowmen, the latter of archers. on june 11, 1656, charles and the duke of gloucester were at the festival of the society of st. george. charles was the first to try his skill, and managed to hit the mark. after the duke and many others had shot, peter pruyssenaere, a wine merchant in the rue du vieux bourg, brought down the bird, and charles hung the golden 'bird of honour' round his neck. on june 25 charles visited the society of st. sebastian, when michael noé, a gardener, was the winner. the king and gloucester both became members of the st. sebastian, which is still a flourishing society. going along the rue des carmes, the traveller passes the english convent on the left, and on the right, at the end of the street, comes to the guild-house of st. sebastian, with its slender tower and quiet garden, one of the pleasantest spots in bruges. there the names of charles and his brother are to be seen inscribed in a small volume bound in red morocco, the 'bird of honour' with its chain of gold, a silver arrow presented by the duke of gloucester, and some other interesting relics. on september 15, 1843, queen victoria, prince albert, king leopold i., and the queen of the belgians, went to the rue des carmes and signed their names as members of this society, which now possesses two silver cups, presented by the queen of england in 1845 and 1893. the duke of york seems to have been successful as an archer, for in the hôtel de ville at bruges there is a picture by john van meuninxhove, in which charles is seen hanging the 'bird of honour' round his brother's neck. in april, 1657, the english government was informed that the court of charles was preparing to leave bruges. 'yesterday' (april 7) 'some of his servants went before to brussels to make ready lodgings for charles stewart, the duke of york, and the duke of gloucester. all that have or can compass so much money go along with charles stewart on monday morning. i do admire how people live here for want of money. our number is not increased since my last. the most of them are begging again for want of money; and when any straggling persons come, we have not so much money as will take a single man to the quarters; yet we promise ourselves great matters.' they were hampered in all their movements by this want of hard cash, for charles was in debt at bruges, and could not remove his goods until he paid his creditors. it was sadly humiliating. 'the king,' we read, 'will hardly live at bruges any more, but he cannot remove his family and goods till we get money.' the dilemma seems to have been settled by charles, his brothers, and most of the court going off to brussels, leaving their possessions behind them. the final move did not take place till february, 1658, and clarendon says that charles never lived at bruges after that date. he may, however, have returned on a short visit, for jesse, in his _memoirs of the court of england under the stuarts_, states that the king was playing tennis at bruges when sir stephen fox came to him with the great news, 'the devil is dead!' this would be in september, 1658, cromwell having died on the third of that month. after the restoration charles sent to the citizens of bruges a letter of thanks for the way in which they had received him. nor did he forget, amidst the pleasures of the court at whitehall, the simple pastimes of the honest burghers, but presented to the archers of the society of st. sebastian the sum of 3,600 florins, which were expended on their hall of meeting. more than a hundred years later, when the stuart dynasty was a thing of the past and george iii. was seated on the throne of england, the rue haute saw the arrival of some travellers who were very different from the roystering cavaliers and frail beauties who had made it gay in the days of the merry monarch. the english jesuits of st. omer, when expelled from their college, came to bruges in august, 1762, and took up their abode in the house of the seven towers, where they found 'nothing but naked walls and empty chambers.' a miserable place it must have been. 'in one room a rough table of planks had been set up, and the famished travellers were rejoiced at the sight of three roast legs of mutton set on the primitive table. knives, forks, and plates there were none. a flemish servant divided the food with his pocket-knife. a farthing candle gave a rembrandt-like effect to the scene. the boys slept that night on mattresses laid on the floor of one of the big empty rooms of the house. the first days at bruges were cheerless enough.'[*] the religious houses, however, came to the rescue. flemish monks and the nuns of the english convent helped the pilgrims, and the jesuits soon established themselves at bruges, where they remained in peace for a few years, till the austrian government drove them out. the same fate overtook the inmates of many monasteries and convents at bruges in the reign of joseph ii., whose reforming zeal led to that revolt of the austrian netherlands which was the prelude to the invasion of flanders by the army of the french revolution. [footnote *: robinson, _bruges, an historical sketch_, p. 291.] after the conquest of belgium by the french it looked as if all the churches in bruges were doomed. the chapel of st. basil was laid in ruins. the church of st. donatian, which had stood since the days of baldwin bras-de-fer, was pulled down and disappeared entirely. notre dame, st. sauveur, and other places of worship, narrowly escaped destruction; and it was not till the middle of the nineteenth century that the town recovered, in some measure, from these disasters. bruges has doubtless shared in the general prosperity which has spread over the country since belgium became an independent kingdom after the revolution of 1830, but its progress has been slow. it has never lost its old-world associations; and the names of the streets and squares, and the traditions connected with numberless houses which a stranger might pass without notice, are all so many links with the past. there is the rue espagnole, for example, where a vegetable market is held every wednesday. this was the quarter where the spanish merchants lived and did their business. there used to be a tall, dark, and, in fact, very dirty-looking old house in this street known by the spanish name of the 'casa negra.' it was pulled down a few years ago; but lower down, at the foot of the street, the great cellars in which the spaniards stored their goods remain; and on the quai espagnol was the spanish consulate, now a large dwelling-house. a few steps from the quai espagnol is the place des orientaux (oosterlingen plaats), where a minaret of tawny brick rises above the gables of what was once the consulate of smyrna, and on the north side of which, in the brave days of old, stood the splendid maison des orientaux, the headquarters of the hanseatic league in bruges, the finest house in flanders, with turrets and soaring spire, and marvellous façade, and rooms inside all ablaze with gilding. the glory has departed; two modern dwelling-houses have taken the place of this commercial palace; but it must surely be a very dull imagination on which the sight of this spot, now so tranquil and commonplace, but once the centre of such important transactions, makes no impression. from the place des orientaux it is only a few minutes' stroll to the rue cour de gand and the dark brown wooden front of the small house, now a lace shop, which tradition says was one of memlinc's homes in bruges, where we can fancy him, laboriously and with loving care, putting the last minute touches to some immortal painting. then there is the rue anglaise, off the quai spinola, where the english merchant adventurers met to discuss their affairs in houses with such names as 'old england' or 'the tower of london.' the head of the colony, 'governor of the english nation beyond the seas' they called him, was a very busy man 400 years ago.[*] the scottish merchants were settled in the same district, close to the church of ste. walburge. they called their house 'scotland,' and doubtless made as good bargains as the 'auld enemy' in the next street. there is a building called the parijssche halle, or halle de paris, hidden away among the houses to the west of the market-place, with a café and a theatre where flemish plays are acted now, which was formerly the consulate of france; and subscription balls and amateur theatricals are given by the english residents of to-day in the fourteenth-century house of the genoese merchants in the rue flamande. the list of streets and houses with old-time associations like these might be extended indefinitely, for in bruges the past is ever present. [footnote *: in the _flandria illustrata_ of sanderus, vol. i., p. 275, there is a picture of the 'domus anglorum.'] [illustration: bruges. vegetable market.] even the flat-fronted, plain houses with which poverty or the bad taste of the last century replaced many of the older buildings do not spoil the picturesque appearance of the town as a whole, because it is no larger now than it was 600 years ago, and these modern structures are quite lost amongst their venerable neighbours. thus bruges retains its mediæval character. in the midst, however, of all this wealth of architectural beauty and historical interest, the atmosphere of common everyday life seems to be so very dull and depressing that people living there are apt to be driven, by sheer boredom, into spending their lives in a round of small excitements and incessant, wearisome gossip, and into taking far more interest in the paltry squabbles of their neighbours over some storm in a teacup than in the more important topics which invigorate the minds of men and women in healthier and broader societies. long before rodenbach's romance was written this peculiarity of bruges was proverbial throughout belgium. but it is possible that a change is at hand, and that bruges may once again become, not the venice of the north--the time for that is past--but an important town, for the spirit of commercial enterprise which has done so much for other parts of belgium during the last seventy-five years is now invading even this quiet place, whose citizens have begun to dream of recovering some portion of their former prosperity. in 1895 the belgian parliament passed a law providing for the construction, between blankenberghe and heyst, of a harbour connected with bruges by a canal of large dimensions, and of an inner port at the town. the works at see-brugge, as the outer port is called, are nearly completed, and will allow vessels drawing 26-1/2 feet of water to float at any state of the tide. the jetty describes a large curve, and the bend is such that its extremity is parallel to the coast, and 930 yards distant from the low-water mark. the sheltered roadstead is about 272 acres in extent, and communication is made with the canal by a lock 66 feet wide and 282 yards in length. from this point the canal, which has a depth of 26-1/2 feet and is fed by sea-water, runs in a straight line to bruges, and ends at the inner port, which is within a few hundred yards of where the roya used to meet the zwijn. it is capable of affording a minimum capacity of 1,000,000 tons per annum, and the whole equipment has been fitted up necessary for dealing with this amount of traffic. the first ship, an english steamer, entered the new port at bruges on the morning of may 29 in the present year (1905). the carillon rung from the belfry, guns were fired, and a ceremony in honour of the event took place in the hôtel de ville. it now remains to be seen whether any part of the trade which was lost 400 years ago can be recovered by the skill of modern engineers and the resources of modern capital. the plain of west flanders--ypres chapter vii the plain of west flanders--ypres to the west of bruges the wide plain of flanders extends to the french frontier. church spires and windmills are the most prominent objects in the landscape; but though the flatness of the scenery is monotonous, there is something pleasing to the eye in the endless succession of well-cultivated fields, interrupted at intervals by patches of rough bushland, canals, or slow-moving streams winding between rows of pollards, country houses embowered in woods and pleasure-grounds, cottages with fruitful gardens, orchards, small villages, and compact little towns, in most of which the diligent antiquary will find something of interest--a modest belfry, perhaps, with a romance of its own; a parish church, whose foundations were laid long ago in ground dedicated, in the distant past, to the worship of thor or woden; or the remains, it may be, of a mediæval castle, from which some worthy knight, whose name is forgotten except in local traditions, rode away to the crusades. this part of west flanders, which lies wedged in between the coast, with its populous bathing stations, and the better-known district immediately to the south of it, where ghent, tournai, courtrai, and other important centres draw many travellers every year, is seldom visited by strangers, who are almost as much stared at in some of the villages as they would be in the streets of pekin. it is, however, very accessible. the roads are certainly far from good, and anything in the shape of a walking tour is out of the question, for the strongest pedestrian would have all his pleasure spoilt by the hard-going of the long, straight causeway. the ideal way to see the netherlands and study the life of the people is to travel on the canals; but these are not so numerous here as in other parts of the country, and, besides, it is not very easy to arrange for a passage on the barges. but, in addition to the main lines of the state railway, there are the 'chemins-de-fer vicinaux,' or light district railways, which run through all parts of belgium. the fares on these are very low, and there are so many stoppages that the traveller can see a great many places in the course of a single day. there are cycle tracks, too, alongside most of the roads, the cost of keeping them in order being paid out of the yearly tax paid by the owners of bicycles.[*] [footnote *: bicycles entering belgium pay an _ad valorem_ duty of 12 per cent.] [illustration: the flemish plain] this is the most purely flemish part of flanders. one very seldom notices that spanish type of face which is so common elsewhere--at antwerp, for instance. here the race is almost unmixed, and the peasants speak nothing but flemish to each other. many of them do not understand a word of french, though in belgium french is, as everyone knows, the language of public life and of literature. the newspapers published in flemish are small, and do not contain much beyond local news. the result is that the country people in west flanders know very little of what is going on in the world beyond their own parishes. the standard of education is low, being to a great extent in the hands of the clergy, who have hitherto succeeded in defeating all proposals for making it universal and compulsory. but, steeped as most of them are in ignorance and superstition, the agricultural labourers of west flanders are, to all appearance, quite contented with their lot. living is cheap, and their wants are few. coffee, black bread, potatoes, and salted pork, are the chief articles of diet, and in some households even the pork is a treat for special occasions. they seldom taste butter, using lard instead; and the 'margarine' which is sold in the towns does not find its way into the cottages of the outlying country districts. sugar has for many years been much dearer than in england, and the price is steadily rising, but with this exception the food of the people is cheap. tea enters belgium duty free, but the peasants never use it. many villagers smoke coarse tobacco grown in their own gardens, and a 10-centimes cigar is the height of luxury. tobacco being a state monopoly in france, the high price in that country makes smuggling common, and there is a good deal of contraband trading carried on in a quiet way on the frontiers of west flanders. the average wage paid for field labour is from 1 franc 50 centimes to 2 francs a day for married men--that is to say, from about 1s. 3d. to 1s. 8d. of english money. bachelors generally receive 1 franc (10d.) a day and their food. the working hours are long, often from five in the morning till eight in the evening in summer, and in winter from sunrise till sunset, with one break at twelve o'clock for dinner, consisting of bread with pork and black coffee, and another about four in the afternoon, when what remains of the mid-day meal is consumed. the flemish farmhouse is generally a substantial building, with two large living-rooms, in which valuable old pieces of furniture are still occasionally to be found, though the curiosity dealers have, during the last quarter of a century, carried most of them away, polished them up, and sold them at a high profit. carved chests, bearing the arms of ancient families, have been discovered lying full of rubbish in barns or stables, and handsome cabinets, with fine mouldings and brass fittings, have frequently been picked up for a few francs. the heavy beams of the ceilings, black with age, the long flemish stoves, and the quaint window-seats deeply sunk in the thick walls, still remain, and make the interiors of many of these houses very picturesque; but the 'finds' of old furniture, curious brass or pewter dishes, and even stray bits of valuable tapestry, which used to rouse the cupidity of strangers, are now very rare. almost all the brass work which is so eagerly bought by credulous tourists at bruges in summer is bran-new stuff cleverly manufactured for sale--and sold it is at five or six times its real market value! there are no bargains to be picked up on the dyver or in the shops of bruges. [illustration: duinhoek. interior of a farmhouse.] the country life is simple. a good deal of hard drinking goes on in most villages. more beer, probably, is consumed in belgium per head of the population than in any other european country, germany not excepted, and the system of swallowing 'little glasses' of fiery spirit on the top of beer brings forth its natural fruits. the drunken ways of the people are encouraged by the excessive number of public-houses. practically anyone who can pay the government fee and obtain a barrel of beer and a few tumblers may open a drinking-shop. it is not uncommon in a small country village with about 200 inhabitants to see the words 'herberg' or 'estaminet' over the doors of a dozen houses, in which beer is sold at a penny (or less) for a large glass, and where various throat-burning liquors of the _petit verre_ species can be had at the same price; and the result is that very often a great portion of the scanty wage paid on saturday evening is melted into beer or gin on sunday and monday. as a rule, the flemish labourer, being a merry, light-hearted soul, is merely noisy and jovial in a brutal sort of way in his cups; but let a quarrel arise, out come the knives, and before the rural policeman saunters along there are nasty rows, ending in wounds and sometimes in murder. when the lots are drawn for military service, and crowds of country lads with their friends flock into the towns, the public-houses do good business. those who have drawn lucky numbers, and so escaped the conscription, get drunk out of joy; while those who find they must serve in the army drown their sorrow, or celebrate the occasion if they are of a martial turn, by reeling about the streets arm in arm with their companions, shouting and singing. whole families, old and young alike, often join in these performances, and they must be very drunk and very disorderly before the police think of making even the mildest remonstrance. the gay character of the flemings is best seen at the 'kermesse,' or fair, which is held in almost every village during summer. at bruges, ypres, and furnes, and still more in such large cities as brussels or antwerp, the kermesse has ceased to be typical of the country, and is supplanted by fairs such as may be seen in england or in almost any other country. 'merry-go-rounds' driven by steam, elaborate circuses, menageries, waxwork exhibitions, movable theatres, and modern 'shows' of every kind travel about, and settle for a few days, perhaps even for a few weeks, in various towns. the countryfolk of the surrounding district are delighted, and the showmen reap a goodly harvest of francs and centimes; but these fairs are tiresome and commonplace, much less amusing and lively than, for example, st. giles's fair at oxford, though very nearly as noisy. but the kermesse proper, which still survives in some places, shows the flemings amusing themselves in something more like the old fashion than anything which can be seen in the market-place of bruges or on the boulevards of brussels or antwerp. indeed, some of the village scenes, when the young people are dancing or shooting with bows and arrows at the mark, while the elders sit, with their mugs of beer and long pipes, watching and gossiping, are very like what took place in the times of the old painters who were so fond of producing pictures of the kermesses. the dress of the people, of course, is different, but the spirit of the scene, with its homely festivities, is wonderfully little changed. about twenty miles from the french frontier is the town of ypres, once the capital of flanders, and which in the time of louis of nevers was one of the three 'bonnes villes,' bruges and ghent being the others, which appointed deputies to defend the rights and privileges of the whole flemish people. as bruges grew out of the rude fortress on the banks of the roya, so ypres developed from a stronghold built, probably about the year 900, on a small island in the river yperlee. it was triangular in shape, with a tower at each corner, and was at first known by the inhabitants of the surrounding plain as the 'castle of the three towers.' in course of time houses began to appear on the banks of the river near the island. a rampart of earth with a ditch defended these, and as the place grew, the outworks became more extensive. owing to its strategic position, near france and in a part of flanders which was constantly the scene of war, it was of great importance; and probably no other flemish town has seen its defences so frequently altered and enlarged as ypres has between the primitive days when the crusading thierry d'alsace planted hedges of live thorns to strengthen the towers, and the reign of louis xiv., when a vast and elaborate system of fortifications was constructed on scientific principles, under the direction of vauban. the citizens of ypres took a prominent part in most of the great events which distinguished the heroic period of flemish history. in july, 1302, a contingent of 1,200 chosen men, '500 of them clothed in scarlet and the rest in black,' were set to watch the town and castle of courtrai during the battle of the golden spurs, and in the following year the victory was celebrated by the institution of the confraternity of the archers of st. sebastian, which still exists at ypres, the last survivor of the armed societies which flourished there during the middle ages. seven hundred burghers of ypres marched to sluis, embarked in the flemish boats which harassed the french fleet during the naval fight of june, 1340, and at the close of the campaign formed themselves into the confraternity of st. michael, which lasted till the french invasion of 1794. forty years later we find no fewer than 5,000 of the men of ypres, who had now changed their politics, on the french side at the battle of roosebeke, fighting in the thick mist upon the plain between ypres and roulers on that fatal day which saw the death of philip van artevelde and the triumph of the leliarts. [illustration: adinkerque. at the kermesse.] next year, so unceasingly did the tide of war flow over the plain of flanders, an english army, commanded by henry spencer, bishop of norwich, landed at calais under the pretext of supporting the partisans of pope urban vi., who then occupied the holy see, against the adherents of pope clement vii., who had established himself at avignon. the burghers of ghent flocked to the english standard, and the allies laid siege to ypres, which was defended by the french and the leliarts, who followed louis of maele, count of flanders, and maintained the cause of clement. at that time the gateways were the only part of the fortifications made of stone. the ramparts were of earth, planted on the exterior slope with a thick mass of thorn-bushes, interlaced and strengthened by posts. outside there were more defences of wooden stockades, and beyond them two ditches, divided by a dyke, on which was a palisade of pointed stakes. the town, thus fortified, was defended by about 10,000 men, and un june 8, 1383, the siege was begun by a force consisting of 17,000 english and 20,000 flemings of the national party, most of whom came from bruges and ghent. the english had been told that the town would not offer a strong resistance, and on the first day of the siege 1,000 of them tried to carry it at once by assault. they were repulsed; and after that assaults by the besiegers and sorties by the garrison continued day after day, the loss of life on both sides being very great. at last the besiegers, finding that they could not, in the face of the shower of arrows, javelins, and stones which met them, break through the palisades and the sharp thorn fences (those predecessors of the barbed-wire entanglements of to-day), force the gates, or carry the ramparts, built three wooden towers mounted on wheels, and pushed them full of soldiers up to the gates. but the garrison made a sortie, seized the towers, destroyed them, and killed or captured the soldiers who manned them. spencer on several occasions demanded the surrender of the town, but all his proposals were rejected. the english pressed closer and closer, but were repulsed with heavy losses whenever they delivered an assault. the hopes of the garrison rose high on august 7, the sixty-first day of the siege, when news arrived that a french army, 100,000 strong, accompanied by the forces of the count of flanders, was marching to the relief of ypres. early next morning the english made a fresh attempt to force their way into the town, but they were once more driven back. a little later in the day they twice advanced with the utmost bravery. again they were beaten back. so were the burghers of ghent, whom the english reproached for having deceived them by saying that ypres would fall in three days, and whose answer to this accusation was, a furious attack on one of the gates, in which many of them fell. in the afternoon the english again advanced, and succeeded in forcing their way through part of the formidable thorn hedge; but it was of no avail, and once more they had to retire, leaving heaps of dead behind them. after a rest of some hours, another attack was made on seven different parts of the town at the same time. this assault was the most furious and bloody of the siege, but it was the last. spencer saw that, in spite of the splendid courage of his soldiers and of the flemish burghers, it would be impossible to take the town before the french army arrived, and during the night the english, with their allies from ghent and bruges, retired from before ypres. the failure of this campaign left flanders at the mercy of france; but the death of count louis of maele, which took place in january, 1384, brought in the house of burgundy, under whose rule the flemings enjoyed a long period of prosperity and almost complete independence. it was believed in ypres that the town had been saved by the intercession of the virgin mary, its patron saint. in the cathedral church of st. martin the citizens set up an image of notre, dame-de-thuine, that is, our lady of the enclosures, an allusion to the strong barrier of thorns which had kept the enemy at bay; and a kermesse, appointed to be held on the first sunday of august every year in commemoration of the siege, received the name of the 'thuindag,' or day of the enclosures.[*] the people of ypres, though they fought on the french side, had good reason to be proud of the way in which they defended their homes; but the consequences of the siege were disastrous, for the commerce of the town never recovered the loss of the large working-class population which left it at that time. [footnote *: 'thuin,' or 'tuin,' in flemish means an enclosed space, such as a garden plot.] [illustration: a farmsteading] the religious troubles of the sixteenth century left their mark on ypres as well as on the rest of flanders. everyone has read the glowing sentences in which the historian of the dutch republic describes the cathedral of antwerp, and tells how it was wrecked by the reformers during the image-breaking in the summer of 1566. what happened on the banks of the scheldt appeals most to the imagination; but all over flanders the statues and the shrines, the pictures and the stores of ecclesiastical wealth, with which piety, or superstition, or penitence had enriched so many churches and religious houses, became the objects of popular fury. there had been field-preaching near ypres as early as 1562.[*] other parts of west flanders had been visited by the apostles of the new learning, and on august 15, 1566, the reformers swept down upon ypres and sacked the churches. [footnote *: motley, _rise of the dutch republic_, part ii., chapter vi.] in the awful tragedy which soon followed, when parma came upon the scene, that 'spectacle of human energy, human suffering, and human strength to suffer, such as has not often been displayed upon the stage of the world's events' the town had its share of the persecutions and exactions which followed the march of the spanish soldiery; but for more than ten years a majority of the burghers adhered to the cause of philip. in july, 1578, however, ypres fell into the hands of the protestants, and became their headquarters in west flanders. five years later alexander of parma besieged it. the siege lasted until april of the following year, when the protestants, worn out by famine, capitulated, and the town was occupied by the spaniards, who 'resorted to instant measures for cleansing a place which had been so long in the hands of the infidels, and, as the first step towards this purification, the bodies of many heretics who had been buried for years were taken from their graves and publicly hanged in their coffins. all living adherents to the reformed religion were instantly expelled from the place.'[*] by this time the population was reduced to 5,000 souls, and the fortifications were a heap of ruins. [footnote *: motley, _rise of the dutch republic_, part ii., chapter vi.] [illustration: ypres. place du musée (showing top part of the belfry).] a grim memorial of those troublous times is still preserved at ypres. the place du musée is a quiet corner of the town, where a gothic house with double gables contains a collection of old paintings, medals, instruments of torture, and some other curiosities. it was the bishop of ypres who, at midnight on june 4, 1568, announced to count egmont, in his prison at brussels, that his hour had come; and the cross-hilted sword, with its long straight blade, which hangs on the wall of the museum is the sword with which the executioner 'severed his head from his shoulders at a single blow' on the following morning. the same weapon, a few minutes later, was used for the despatch of egmont's friend, count horn. before the end of that dismal sixteenth century flanders regained some of the liberties for which so much blood had been shed; but while the protestant dutch republic rose in the north, the 'catholic' or 'spanish' netherlands in the south remained in the possession of spain until the marriage of philip's daughter isabella to the archduke albert, when these provinces were given as a marriage portion to the bride. this was in 1599. though happier times followed under the moderate rule of albert and isabella, war continued to be the incessant scourge of flanders, and during the marching and countermarching of armies across this battlefield of europe, ypres scarcely ever knew what peace meant. four times besieged and four times taken by the french in the wars of louis xiv., the town had no rest; and for miles all round it the fields were scarred by the new system of attacking strong places which vauban had introduced into the art of war. louis, accompanied by schomberg and luxembourg, was himself present at the siege of 1678; and ypres, having been ceded to france by the treaty of nimeguen in that year, was afterwards strengthened by fortifications constructed from plans furnished by the great french engineer.[*] [footnote *: letter from vauban to louvois on the fortifications of ypres, 1689; vereecke, pp. 325-357.] in the year 1689 vauban speaks of ypres as a place 'formerly great, populous, and busy, but much reduced by the frequent sedition and revolts of its inhabitants, and by the great wars which it has endured.' and in this condition it has remained ever since. though the period which followed the treaty of rastadt in 1714, when flanders passed into the possession of the emperor charles vi., and became a part of the 'austrian netherlands,' was a period of considerable improvement, ypres never recovered its position, not even during the peaceful reign of the empress maria theresa. the revolution against joseph ii. disturbed everything, and in june, 1794, the town yielded, after a short siege, to the army of the french republic. the name of flanders disappeared from the map of europe. the whole of belgium was divided, like france, with which it was now incorporated, into _départements_, ypres being in the department of the lys. for twenty years, during the wars of the republic, the consulate, and the empire, though the conscription was a constant drain upon the youth of flanders, who went away to leave their bones on foreign soil, nothing happened to disturb the quiet of the town, and the fortifications were falling into decay when the return of napoleon from elba set europe in a blaze. during the hundred days guns and war material were hurried over from england, the old defences were restored, and new works constructed by the english engineers; but the battle of waterloo rendered these preparations unnecessary, and the military history of ypres came to an end when the short-lived kingdom of the netherlands was established by the congress of vienna, though it was nominally a place of arms till 1852, when the fortifications were destroyed. nowadays everything is very quiet and unwarlike. the bastions and lunettes, the casemates and moats, which spread in every direction round the town, have almost entirely disappeared, and those parts of the fortifications which remain have been turned into ornamental walks.[*] [footnote *: the evolution of ypres from a feudal tower on an island until it became a great fortress can be traced in a very interesting volume of maps and plans published by m. vereecke in 1858, as a supplement to his _histoire militaire d'ypres_. it shows the first defensive works, those erected by vauban, the state of the fortifications between 1794 and 1814, and what the english engineers did in 1815.] but while so little remains of the works which were constructed, at such a cost and with so much labour, for the purposes of war, the arts of peace, which once flourished at ypres, have left a more enduring monument. there is nothing in bruges or any other flemish town which can compare for massive grandeur with the pile of buildings at the west end of the grand place of ypres. during two centuries the merchants of flanders, whose towns were the chief centres of western commerce and civilization, grew to be the richest in europe, and a great portion of the wealth which industry and public spirit had accumulated was spent in erecting those noble civic and commercial buildings which are still the glory of flanders. the foundation-stone of the halle des drapiers, or cloth hall, of ypres was laid by baldwin of constantinople, then count of flanders, at the beginning of the thirteenth century, but more than 100 years had passed away before it was completed. though the name of the architect who began it is unknown, the unity of design which characterizes the work makes it probable that the original plans were adhered to till the whole was finished. nothing could be simpler than the general idea; but the effect is very fine. the ground-floor of the façade, about 150 yards long, is pierced by a number of rectangular doors, over which are two rows of pointed windows, each exactly above the other, and all of the same style. in the upper row every second window is filled up, and contains the statue of some historical character. at each end there is a turret; and the belfry, a square with towers at the corners, rises from the centre of the building. various additions have been made from time to time to the original halle des drapiers since it was finished in the year 1304, and of these the 'nieuwerck' is the most interesting. the east end of the halle was for a long time hidden by a number of wooden erections, which, having been put up for various purposes after the main building was finished, were known as the 'nieuwe wercken,' or new works. they were pulled down in the beginning of the seventeenth century, and replaced by the stone edifice, in the style of the spanish renaissance, which now goes by the name of the nieuwerck, with its ten shapely arches supported by slender pillars, above whose sculptured capitals rise tiers of narrow windows and the steeply-pitched roof with gables of curiously carved stone. ypres had ceased to be a great commercial city long before the nieuwerck was built; but the cloth hall was a busy place during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, when ypres shared with bruges the responsibility of managing the flemish branch of the hanseatic league. the extensive system of monopolies which the league maintained was, as a matter of course, the cause of much jealousy and bad feeling. in flanders, ghent, bruges, and ypres defended their own privileges against other towns, and quarrelled amongst themselves. the merchants of ypres had a monopoly which forbade all weaving for three leagues round the town, under a penalty of fifty livres and confiscation of the looms and linen woven; but the weavers in the neighbouring communes infringed this monopoly, and sold imitations of ypres linen cloth on all hands. there was constant trouble between the people of ypres and their neighbours at poperinghe. sometimes the weavers of ypres, to enforce their exclusive privileges, marched in arms against poperinghe, and sometimes the men of poperinghe retaliated by attacking their powerful rivals. houses were burnt, looms were broken up, and lives were lost in these struggles, which were so frequent that for a long time something like a chronic state of war existed between the two places. [illustration: ypres. arcade under the nieuwerk.] besides the troubles caused by the jealousy of other towns, intestine disputes arising out of the perpetual contest between labour and capital went on from year to year within the walls of ypres. there, as in the other flemish towns, a sharp line was drawn between the working man, by whose hands the linen was actually woven, and the merchants, members of the guilds, by whom it was sold. in these towns, which maintained armies and made treaties of peace, and whose friendship was sought by princes and statesmen, the artisans, whose industry contributed so much to the importance of the community, resented any infringement of their legal rights. by law the magistrates of ypres were elected annually, and because this had not been done in 1361 the people rose in revolt against the authorities. the mob invaded the hôtel de ville, where the magistrates were assembled. the baillie, jean deprysenaere, trusting to his influence as the local representative of the count of flanders, left the council chamber, and tried to appease the rioters. he was set upon and killed. then the crowd rushed into the council chamber, seized the other magistrates, and locked them up in the belfry, where they remained prisoners for some days. the leaders of the revolt met, and resolved to kill their prisoners, and this sentence was executed on the burgomaster and two of the sheriffs, who were beheaded in front of the halle in the presence of their colleagues.[*] it was by such stern deeds that the fierce democracy of the flemish communes preserved their rights. [footnote *: vereecke, p. 41.] each town, however, stood for itself alone. the idea of government by the populace on the marketplace was common to them all, but they were kept apart by the exclusive spirit of commercial jealousy. the thirst for material prosperity consumed them; but they had no bond of union, and each was ready to advance its own interests at the expense of its rivals. therefore, either in the face of foreign invasion, or when the policy of some count led to revolt and civil war, it was seldom that the people of flanders were united. 'l'union fait la force' is the motto of modern belgium, but in the middle ages there was no powerful central authority round which the communes rallied. hence the spectacle of ghent helping an english army to storm the ramparts of ypres, or of the guildsmen of bruges girding on their swords to strike a blow for count louis of maele against the white hoods who marched from ghent. hence the permanent unrest of these flemish towns, the bickerings and the sheddings of blood, the jealousy of trade pitted against trade or of harbour against harbour, the insolence in the hour of triumph and the abject submission in the hour of defeat, and all the evils which discord brought upon the country. no town suffered more than ypres from the distracted state of flanders, which, combined with the ravages of war and the religious dissensions of the sixteenth century, reduced it from the first rank amongst the cities of the netherlands to something very like the condition of a quiet country town in an out-of-the-way corner of england. that is what the ypres of to-day is like--a sleepy country town, with clean, well-kept streets, dull and uninteresting save for the stately cloth hall, which stands there a silent memorial of the past. furnes--the procession of penitents chapter viii furnes--the procession of penitents the traveller wandering amongst the towns and villages in this corner of west flanders is apt to feel that he is on a kind of sentimental journey as he moves from place to place, and finds himself everywhere surrounded by things which belong to the past rather than to the present. the very guidebooks are eloquent if we read between the lines. this place 'was formerly of much greater importance.' that 'was formerly celebrated for its tapestries.' from this hôtel de ville 'the numerous statuettes with which the building was once embellished have all disappeared.' the tower of that church has been left unfinished for the last 500 years. 'fuimus' might be written on them all. and so, some twenty miles north of ypres, on a plain which in the seventeenth century was so studded with earthen redoubts and serrated by long lines of field-works and ditches that the whole countryside between ypres and dunkirk was virtually one vast entrenched camp, we come to the town of furnes, another of the places on which time has laid its heavy hand. the early history of furnes is obscure, though it is generally supposed to have grown up round a fortress erected by baldwin bras-de-fer to check the inroads of the normans. it suffered much, like its neighbours, from wars and revolutions,[*] and is now one of the quietest of the flemish towns. the market-place is a small square, quaintly picturesque, surrounded by clusters of little brick houses with red and blue tiled roofs, low-stepped gables, and deep mouldings round the windows. behind these dwelling-places the bold flying buttresses of the church of ste. walburge, whose relics were brought to furnes by judith, wife of baldwin bras-de-fer, and the tower of st. nicholas, lift themselves on the north and east; and close together in a corner to the west are the dark gray hôtel de ville and palais de justice, in a room of which the judges of the inquisition used to sit. [footnote *: 'furnes était devenue un _oppidium_, aux termes d'une charte de 1183, qui avait à se défendre à la fois contre les incursions des étrangers et les attaques d'une population "indocile et cruelle," comme l'appelle l'abbé de saint riquier hariulf, toujours déchirée par les factions et toujours prête à la révolte.'--gilliodts van severen: _recueil des anciennes coutumes de la belgique; quartier de furnes_, vol. i., p. 28.] [illustration: furnes. grand place and belfry.] though some features are common to nearly all the flemish towns--the market-place, the belfry, the hôtel de ville, the old gateways, and the churches, with their cherished paintings--yet each of them has generally some association of its own. in bruges we think of how the merchants bought and sold, how the gorgeous city rose, clothed itself in all the colours of the rainbow, glittered for a time, and sank in darkness. in the crowded streets of modern ghent, the busy capital of east flanders, we seem to catch a glimpse of bold jacques van artevelde shouldering his way up to the friday market, or of turbulent burghers gathering there to set pope, or count of flanders, or king of spain at defiance. ypres and its flat meadows suggest one of the innumerable paintings of the flemish wars, the 'battle-pieces' in which the court artists took such pride: the town walls with ditch and glacis before them, and within them the narrow-fronted houses, and the flag flying from steeple or belfry; the clumsy cannon puffing out clouds of smoke; the king of france capering on a fat horse and holding up his baton in an attitude of command in the foreground; and in the distance the tents of the camp, where the travelling theatre was set up, and the musicians fiddled, and an army of serving-men waited on the rouged and powdered ladies who had followed the army into flanders. [illustration: furnes. peristyle of town hall and palais de justice.] furnes, somehow, always recalls the spanish period. the hôtel de ville, a very beautiful example of the renaissance style, with its rare hangings of cordovan leather and its portraits of the archduke albert and his bride, the infanta isabella, is scarcely changed since it was built soon after the death of philip ii. the corps de garde espagnol and the pavilion des officiers espagnols in the market-place, once the headquarters of the whiskered bravos who wrought such ills to flanders, are now used by the municipal council of the town as a museum and a public library; but the stones of this little square were often trodden by the persecutors, with their guards and satellites, in the years when peter titelmann the inquisitor stalked through the fields of flanders, torturing and burning in the name of the catholic church and by authority of the holy office. the spacious room in which the tribunal of the inquisition sat is nowadays remarkable only for its fine proportions and venerable appearance; but, though it was not erected until after the spanish fury had spent its force, and at a time when wiser methods of government had been introduced, it reminds us of the days when the maxims of torquemada were put in force amongst the flemings by priests more wicked and merciless than any who could be found in spain. and in the market-place the people must often have seen the dreadful procession by means of which the church sought to strike terror into the souls of men. those public orgies of clerical intolerance were the suitable consummation of the crimes which had been previously committed in the private conclave of the inquisitors. the burning or strangling of a heretic was not accompanied by so much pomp and circumstance in small towns like furnes as in the great centres, where multitudes, led by the highest in the land, were present to enjoy the spectacle; but the inquisition of the netherlands, under which flanders groaned for so many years, was, as philip himself once boasted, 'much more pitiless than that of spain.' the groans of the victims will never more be heard in the torture-chamber, nor will crowds assemble in the market-place to watch the cortège of the _auto-da-fé_; but every year the famous procession of penitents, which takes place on the last sunday of july, draws many strangers to furnes. it is said in bruges that the ghost of a spanish soldier, condemned to expiate eternally a foul crime done at the bidding of the holy office, walks at midnight on the quai vert, like hamlet's father on the terrace at elsinore; and superstitious people might well fancy that a spectre appears in the market-place of furnes on the summer's night when the town is preparing for the annual ceremony. the origin of the procession was this: in the year 1650 a soldier named mannaert, only twenty-two years old, being in garrison at furnes, went to confession and communion in the chapel of the capucins. after he had received the consecrated wafer, he was persuaded by one of his comrades, mathurin lejeusne, to take it out of his mouth, wrap it in a cloth, and, on returning to his lodging, fry it over a fire, under the delusion that by reducing it to powder he would make himself invulnerable. the young man was arrested, confessed his guilt, and himself asked for punishment. condemned to be strangled, he heard the sentence without a murmur, and went to his death singing the penitential psalms. soon afterwards mathurin lejeusne, the instigator of the sacrilege, was shot for some breach of military duty. this was regarded as a proof of divine justice, and the citizens resolved that something must be done to appease the wrath of god, which they feared would fall upon their town because of the outrage done, as they believed, to the body of his son. a society calling itself the 'confrèrie de la sodalité du sauveur crucifié et de la sainte mère marie, se trouvant en douleur dessous la croix, sur mont calvaire,' had been formed a few years before at furnes, and the members now decided that a procession of penitents should walk through the streets every summer and represent to the people the story of the passion. [illustration: nieuport. interior of church.] though the procession at furnes is a thing of yesterday compared to the procession of the holy blood at bruges, it is far more suggestive of mediævalism. the hooded faces of the penitents, the quaint wooden figures representing biblical characters, the coarse dresses, the tawdry colours, the strangely weird arrangement of the whole business, take us back into the monkish superstitions of the dark ages, with their mystery plays. it is best seen from one of the windows of the spanish house, or from the balcony of the hôtel de ville, on a sultry day, when the sky is heavy with black clouds, and thunder growls over the plain of flanders, and hot raindrops fall now and then into the muddy streets. the first figure which appears is a veiled penitent bearing the standard of the sodality. then come, one after another, groups of persons representing various scenes in the bible story, each group preceded by a penitent carrying an inscription to explain what follows. abraham with his sword conducts isaac to the sacrifice on mount moriah. a penitent holding the serpent and the cross walks before moses. two penitents wearily drag a car on which joseph and mary are seen seated in the stable at bethlehem. the four shepherds and the three magi follow. then comes the flight into egypt, with mary on an ass led by joseph, the infant christ in her arms. later we see the doctors of the temple walking in two rows, disputing with the young jesus in their midst. the triumphal entry into jerusalem is represented by a crowd of schoolchildren waving palm-branches and singing hosannahs round jesus mounted on an ass. the agony in the garden, peter denying his lord and weeping bitterly, jesus crowned with thorns, pilate in his judgment-hall, the saviour staggering beneath the cross, the crucifixion itself, the resurrection and the ascension, are all shown with the crude realism of the middle ages. there are penitents bearing ponderous crosses on their shoulders, or carrying in their hands the whips, the nails, the thorns, the veil of the temple rent in twain, a picture of the darkened sun, and other symbols of the passion. at the end, amidst torches and incense and solemn chanting, the host is exhibited for the adoration of the crowd. [illustration: furnes. tower of st. nicholas.] much of this spectacle is grotesque, and even ludicrous; but there is also a great deal that is terribly real, for the penitents are not actors playing a part, but are all persons who have come to furnes for the purpose of doing penance. they are disguised by the dark brown robes which cover them from head to foot, so that they can see their way only through the eyeholes in the hoods which hide their faces; but as they pass silently along, bending under the heavy crosses, or holding out before them scrolls bearing such words as, 'all they that see me laugh me to scorn,' 'they pierced my hands and my feet,' or, 'see if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow,' there are glimpses of delicate white hands grasping the hard wood of the crosses, and of small, shapely feet bare in the mud. what sighs, what tears and vain regrets, what secret tragedies of passion, guilt, remorse, may not be concealed amongst the doleful company who tread their own via dolorosa on that pilgrimage of sorrow through the streets of furnes! [illustration: furnes. in st. walburge's church.] nieuport--the battle of the dunes chapter ix nieuport--the battle of the dunes on the morning of july 2, in the year 1600, two armies--spaniards, under the archduke albert, and dutchmen, under prince maurice of nassau--stood face to face amongst the dunes near nieuport, where the river yser falls into the sea about ten miles west from ostend. in a field to the east of nieuport there is a high, square tower, part of a monastery and church erected by the templars in the middle of the twelfth century, which, though it escaped complete destruction, was set on fire and nearly consumed when the town was attacked and laid in ruins by the english and the burghers of ghent in 1383, the year of their famous siege of ypres. it is now in a half-ruinous condition, but in july, 1600, it was an important part of the fortifications, and from the top the watchmen of the spanish garrison could see the country all round to a great distance beyond the broad moat which then surrounded the strong walls of nieuport. a few miles inland, to the southwest, in the middle of the plain of flanders, were the houses of furnes, grouped round the church tower of st. nicholas. to the north a wide belt of sandhills (the 'dunes'), with the sea beyond them, extended far past ostend on the east, and to the harbour of dunkirk on the west. nearer, on the landward side of the dunes to the east, and within less than a mile of each other, were the villages of westende and lombaerdzyde. close at hand, all round nieuport, there were numerous small lakes and watercourses connected with the channel of the yser, which, flowing past the town, widened out until it joined the sea, and became a harbour, which on that morning was full of shipping. a new chapter had just begun in the history of west flanders when the dutchmen and the spaniards thus met to slaughter each other amongst the sand and rushes of the dunes. philip ii. had offered to cede the spanish netherlands to his daughter, the infanta isabella, on condition that a marriage was arranged between her and the archduke albert of austria. after the death of philip ii. this offer was confirmed by his successor, philip iii., and the wedding took place in april, 1599. [illustration: nieuport. a fair parishioner.] albert and isabella were both entering on the prime of life, the archduke being forty and the infanta thirty-two at the time of their marriage, and were both of a character admirably fitted for the lofty station to which they had been called. in their portraits, which hang, very often frayed and tarnished, on the walls of the hôtel de ville of many a flemish town, there is nothing very royal or very attractive; but, even after making every allowance for the flattery of contemporary historians, there can be little doubt that their popularity was well deserved--well deserved if even a part of what has been said about them is true. the archduke is always said to have taken philip ii. as a model of demeanour, but he had none of the worst faults of the sullen, powerful despot, with that small mind, that 'incredibly small' mind of his, and cold heart, cold alike to human suffering and human love, who had held the flemings, whom he hated, for so many years in the hollow of his hand. his grave mien and reserved habits, probably acquired during his sojourn at the court of spain, were distasteful to the gay and pleasure-loving people of flanders, who would have preferred a prince more like charles v., whose versatility enabled him to adapt himself to the customs of each amongst the various races over whom he ruled. nevertheless, if they did not love him they respected him, and were grateful for the moderation and good feeling which distinguished his reign, and gave their distracted country, after thirty years of civil war, a period of comparative tranquillity. the infanta isabella, _débonnaire_, affable, tolerant, and noble-hearted, as she is described, gained the hearts of the flemings as her husband never did. 'one could not find any court more truly royal or more brilliant in its public fêtes, which sometimes recall the splendid epoch of the house of burgundy. isabella loves a country life. she is often to be seen on horseback, attending the tournaments, leading the chase, flying the hawk, taking part in the sports of the bourgeoise, shooting with the crossbow, and carrying off the prize.' above all things, her works of charity endeared her to the people. in time of war she established hospitals for the wounded, for friends and enemies alike, where she visited them, nursed them, and dressed their wounds with her own hands, with heroic courage and tenderness.[*] [footnote *: de gerlache, i. 260.] [illustration: nieuport. hall and vicarage.] even on their first coming into flanders, before their characters were known except by hearsay, they were received with extraordinary enthusiasm. travelling by way of luxembourg, they came to namur, where their first visit was made the occasion of a military fête, conducted under the personal supervision of comte florent de berlaimont. at nivelles the duc d'arschot paid out of his own purse the cost of the brilliant festivities to which the people of brabant flocked in order to bid their new rulers welcome, and himself led the procession, accompanied by the archbishop of malines and the bishop of antwerp. so they journeyed on amidst scenes of public rejoicing until they came to brussels, where they established their court in accordance with the customs and ceremonies which had been usual under the dukes of burgundy and the kings of spain. but when the archdukes, as they were called, passed from town to town on this royal progress, the phantoms of war, pestilence, and famine hung over the land. the great cities of flanders had been deserted by thousands of their inhabitants. the sea trade of the country had been destroyed by the vigorous blockade which the dutch ships of war maintained along the coast. religious intolerance had driven the most industrious of the working classes to find a refuge in holland or england. villages lay in ruins, surrounded by untilled fields and gardens run to seed. silent looms and empty warehouses were seen on every side. to such a pass had the disastrous policy of the escurial brought this fair province of the spanish empire! from all parts of flanders the cry for peace went up, but the time for peace was not yet come.[*] [footnote *: _l'abbé nameche_, xxi. 6-8.] the new reign had just begun when maurice of nassau suddenly invaded flanders with a great force, and laid siege to nieuport, the garrison of which, reinforced by an army, at the head of which the archduke albert had hurried across flanders, was under the command of the archduke himself, and many spanish generals of great experience in the wars. [illustration: nieuport. the quay, with eel-boats and landing-stages.] though the court at brussels had been taken by surprise, the dutch army was in a position of great danger. part of it lay on the west side of the yser, and part to the east, amongst the dunes near lombaerdzyde and westende, with a bridge of boats thrown across the river as their only connection. their ships were at anchor close to the shore; but prince maurice frankly told his men that it was useless to think of embarking in case of defeat, and that, therefore, they must either win the day or perish there, for the spaniards were before them under the protection of nieuport, the river divided them, the sea was behind them, and it would be impossible for a beaten army to escape by retreating through the dunes in the direction of ostend. such was the position of affairs beneath the walls of nieuport at sunrise on july 2, 1600. the morning was spent by the dutch in preparing for battle. towards noon the spanish leaders held a council of war, at which it was decided to attack the enemy as soon as possible, and about three o'clock the battle began. a stiff breeze from the west, blowing up the english channel, drove clouds of sand into the eyes of the spaniards, and the bright rays of the afternoon sun, shining in their faces as they advanced to the attack, dazzled and confused them. but, in spite of these disadvantages, it seemed at first as if the fortunes of the day were to go in their favour. the bridge of boats across the yser was broken, and some of the dutch regiments, seized by a sudden panic, began to retreat towards the sea; but, finding it impossible to reach the ships, they rallied, and began once more to fight with all the dogged courage of their race. for some hours the battle was continued with equal bravery on both sides, the spaniards storming a battery which the dutch had entrenched amongst the dunes, and the dutch defending it so desperately that the dead and wounded lay piled in heaps around it. but at last the spanish infantry were thrown into confusion by a charge of horsemen; the archduke albert was wounded, and had to retire from the front to have his injuries attended to. prince maurice ordered a general advance of all his army, and in a few minutes the enemy were fleeing from the battlefield, leaving behind them 3,000 dead, 800 prisoners, and more than 100 standards. the loss on the dutch side was about 2,000. the archduke albert, who had narrowly escaped being himself taken prisoner, succeeded in entering nieuport safely with what remained of his army. the town remained in the hands of the spaniards, for prince maurice, after spending some days in vain attempts to capture it, marched with his whole force to ostend, where soon afterwards began the celebrated siege, which was to last for three long years, and about which all europe never tired of talking.[*] [footnote *: 'le siège d'ostende fut, pendant ces trois ans, la fable et la nouvelle de l'europe; on ne se lassait pas d'en parler. des princes, des étrangers de toutes les nations venaient y assister.'--_l'abbé nameche_, xxi. 24.] [illustration: nieuport. the town hall.] the history of nieuport since those days has been the history of a gradual fall. its sea trade disappeared slowly but surely; the fishing industry languished; the population decreased year by year; and it has not shared to any appreciable extent in the prosperity which has enriched other parts of flanders since the revolution of 1830. it is now a quiet, sleepy spot, with humble streets, which remind one of some fishing village on the east coast of scotland. men and women sit at the doors mending nets or preparing bait. the boats, with their black hulls and dark brown sails, move lazily up to the landing-stages, where a few small craft, trading along the coast, lie moored. barges heavily laden with wood are pulled laboriously through the locks of the canals which connect the yser with ostend and furnes. the ancient fortifications have long since disappeared, with the exception of a few grass-grown mounds; and only the grim tower of the templars, standing by itself in a field on the outskirts of the town, remains to show that this insignificant place was once a mighty stronghold. in those old flemish towns, however, it is always possible to find something picturesque; and here we have the cloth hall, with its low arches opening on the market-place, and the gothic church, one of the largest in flanders, with its porch and tower, where the bell-ringers play the chimes and the people pass devoutly to the services of the church. but that is all. nieuport has few attractions nowadays, and is chiefly memorable in flemish history because under its walls they fought that bloody 'battle of the dunes,' in which the stubborn strength and obstinacy of the dutch overcame the fiery valour of the spaniards. they are all well-nigh forgotten now, obstinate dutchman and valiant spaniard alike. amongst the dunes not a vestige remains of the field-works for which they fought. bones, broken weapons and shattered breastplates, and all the débris of the fight, were long ago buried fathoms deep beneath mounds of drifting sand. old nieuport--nieuport ville, as they call it now--for which so much blood was shed, is desolate and dreary with its small industries and meagre commerce; but a short walk to the north brings us to nieuport-bains, and to the gay summer life which pulsates all along the flemish coast, from la panne on the west to the frontiers of holland. [illustration: nieuport. church port (evensong).] the coast of flanders chapter x the coast of flanders to walk from nieuport ville to the digue de mer at nieuport-bains is to pass in a few minutes from the old flanders, the home of so much romance, the scene of so many stirring deeds, from the market-places with the narrow gables heaped up in piles around them, from the belfries soaring to the sky, from the winding streets and the narrow lanes, in which the houses almost touch each other from the tumble-down old hostelries, from the solemn aisles where the candles glimmer and the dim red light glows before the altar, from the land of bras-de-fer, and thierry d'alsace, and memlinc, and van eyck, and rubens, the land which was at once the temple and the golgotha of europe, into the clear, broad light of modern days. the flemish coast, from the frontiers of france to the frontiers of holland, is throughout the same in appearance. the sea rolls in and breaks upon the yellow beach, which extends from east to west for some seventy kilometres in an irregular line, unbroken by rocks or cliffs. above the beach are the dunes, a long range of sandhills, tossed into all sorts of queer shapes by the wind, on which nothing grows but rushes or stunted lombardy poplars, and which reach their highest point, the hoogen-blekker, about 100 feet above the sea, near coxyde, a fishing village four or five miles from nieuport. behind the dunes a strip of undulating ground ('ter streep'), seldom more than a bare mile in width, covered with scanty vegetation, moss, and bushes, connects the barren sandhills with the cultivated farms, green fields, and woodlands of the flemish plain. on the other side of the channel the chalk cliffs and rocky coast of england have kept the waves in check; but the dunes were, for many long years, the only barrier against the encroachments of the sea on flanders. they are, however, a very weak defence against the storms of autumn and winter. the sand drifts like snow before the wind, and the outlines of these miniature mountain ranges change often in a single night. at one time, centuries ago, this part of flanders, which is now so bare, was, it is pretty clear, covered by forests, the remains of which are still sometimes found beneath the subsoil inland and under the sea. when the great change came is unknown, but the process was probably gradual. at an early period, here, as in holland, the fight against the invasions of the sea began, and the first dykes are said to have been constructed in the tenth century. the first was known as the evendyck, and ran from heyst to wenduyne. others followed, but they were swept away, and now only a few traces of them are to be found, buried beneath the sand and moss.[*] [footnote *: bortier, _le littoral de la flandre au ixe et au xixe siècles._] [illustration: the dunes. a stormy evening.] the wild storms of the tenth, eleventh, and twelfth centuries changed the aspect of the coast of flanders. nieuport rose in consequence of one of these convulsions of nature, when the inhabitants of lombaerdzyde, which was then a seaport, were driven by the tempests to the inland village of santhoven, the name of which they changed to 'neoportus'--the new harbour. this was in the beginning of the twelfth century, and thenceforth the struggle against the waves went on incessantly. lands were granted by thierry d'alsace on condition that the owner should construct dykes, and baldwin of constantinople appointed guardians of the shore, charged with the duty of watching the sea and constructing defensive works. but the struggle was carried on under the utmost difficulties. in the twelfth century the sea burst in with resistless force upon the low-lying ground, washing away the dunes and swallowing up whole towns. the inroads of the waves, the heavy rains, and the earthquakes, made life so unendurable that there were thousands who left their homes and emigrated to germany. later, in the thirteenth century, there was a catastrophe of appalling dimensions, long known as the 'great storm,' when 40,000 flemish men and women perished. this was the same tempest which overran the dutch coast, and formed the zuyder zee, those 1,400 square miles of water which the dutch are about to reclaim and form again into dry land. in the following century the town of scarphout, in west flanders, was overwhelmed, and the inhabitants built a new town for themselves on higher ground, and called it blankenberghe, which is now one of the most important watering-places on the coast. ever since those days this constant warfare against the storms has continued, and the sea appears to be bridled; but anyone who has watched the north sea at high tide on a stormy day beating on the shores of flanders, and observed how the dunes yield to the pressure of the wind and waves, and crumble away before his eyes, must come to the conclusion that the peril of the ocean is not yet averted, and can understand the meaning of the great modern works, the _digues de mer_, or sea-fronts, as they would be called in england, which are being gradually constructed at such immense cost all along the coast. a most interesting and, indeed, wonderful thing in the recent history of the netherlands is the rapid development of the flemish littoral from a waste of sand, with here and there a paltry fishing hamlet and two or three small towns, into a great cosmopolitan pleasure resort. seventy-five years ago, when belgium became an independent country, and king leopold i. ascended the throne, ostend and nieuport were the only towns upon the coast which were of any size; but ostend was then a small fortified place, with a harbour wholly unsuited for modern commerce, and nieuport, in a state of decadence, though it possessed a harbour, was a place of no importance. to-day the whole coast is studded with busy watering-places, about twenty of them, most of which have come into existence within the last fifteen years, with a resident population of about 60,000, which is raised by visitors in summer to, it is said, nearly 125,000. the dunes, which the old counts of flanders fought so hard to preserve from the waves, and which were at the beginning of the present century mere wastes of sand, a sort of 'no man's land,' of little or no use except for rabbit-shooting, are now valuable properties, the price of which is rising every year. the work of turning the sand into gold, for that is what the development of the flemish coast comes to, has been carried out partly by the state and partly by private persons. in early times this belt of land upon the margin of the sea was held by the counts of flanders, who treated the ridge of sandhills above high-water mark as a natural rampart against the waves, and granted large tracts of the flat ground which lay behind to various religious houses. at the french revolution these lands were sold as church property at a very low figure, and were afterwards allowed, in many cases, to fall out of cultivation by the purchasers. so great a portion of the district was sold that at the present time only a small portion of the dune land is the property of the state--the narrow strip between mariakerke and middelkerke on the west of ostend, and that which lies between ostend and blankenberghe on the east. the larger portions, which are possessed by private owners, are partly the property of the descendants of those who bought them at the revolution, and partly of building societies, incorporated for the purpose of developing what mr. hall caine once termed the 'visiting industry'--that is to say, the trade in tourists and seaside visitors.[*] [footnote *: letter to the manx reform league, november, 1903.] [illustration: an old farmer] plage de westende, le coq, and duinbergen--three charming summer resorts--have been created by building societies. nieuport-bains and la panne have been developed by the owners of the adjoining lands, the families of crombez and calmeyn. wenduyne, on the other hand, which lies between le coq and blankenberghe, has been made by the state, while the management of blankenberghe, heyst, and middelkerke, as bathing stations, is in the hands of their communal councils. on the coast of flanders, ostend--'la reine des plages'--is, it need hardly be said, the most important place, and its rise has been very remarkable. less than fifty years ago the population was in all about 15,000. during the last fifteen years it has increased by nearly 15,000, and now amounts to about 40,000 in round numbers. the increase in the number of summer visitors has been equally remarkable. in the year 1860 the list of strangers contained 9,700 names; three years ago it contained no less than 42,000. this floating population of foreign visitors who come to ostend is cosmopolitan to an extent unknown at any watering-place in england. in 1902 11,000 english, 8,000 french, 5,000 germans, and 2,000 americans helped to swell the crowds who walked on the sea-front, frequented the luxurious and expensive hotels, or left their money on the gaming-tables at the kursaal. on one day--august 15, 1902--7,000 persons bathed.[*] [footnote *: i give these figures on the authority of m. paul otlet, advocate, of brussels, to whom i am indebted for much information regarding the development of the coast of flanders. see also an article by m. otlet in _le cottage_, may 15 to june 15, 1904.] blankenberghe, with its 30,000 summer visitors, comes next in importance to ostend, while both heyst and middelkerke are crowded during the season. but the life at these towns is not so agreeable as at the smaller watering-places. the hotels are too full, and have, as a rule, very little except their cheapness to recommend them. there is usually a body calling itself the _comité des fêtes_, the members of which devote themselves for two months every summer to devising amusements, sports, and competitions of various kinds, instead of leaving people to amuse themselves in their own way, so that hardly a day passes on which the strains of a second-rate band are not heard in the local kursaal, or a night which is not made hideous by a barrel-organ, to which the crowd is dancing on the _digue_. at the smaller places, however, though these also have their _comité des fêtes_, one escapes to a great extent from these disagreeable surroundings. may, june, and september are the pleasantest months upon the coast of flanders, for the visitors are not so numerous, and even in mid-winter the dunes are worth a visit. then the hotels and villas fronting the sea are closed, and their windows boarded up. the bathing-machines are removed from the beach, and stand in rows in some sheltered spot. the _digue_, a broad extent of level brickwork, is deserted, and the wind sweeps along it, scattering foam and covering it with sand and sprays of tangled seaweed. the mossy surface of the dunes is frozen hard as iron, and often the hailstones rush in furious blasts before the wind. for league after league there is not a sign of life, except the sea-birds flying low near the shore, or the ships rising and falling in the waves far out to sea. in the winter months the coast of flanders is bleak and stormy, but the air in these solitudes is as health-giving as in any other part of europe. of late years the government, represented by comte de smet de naeyer, has bestowed much attention on the development of the littoral, and king leopold ii. has applied his great business talents to the subject. large sums of money have been voted by the belgian parliament for the construction of public works and the extension of the means of communication from place to place. there is a light railway, the 'vicinal,' which runs along the whole coast, at a short distance from the shore, from knocke, on the east, to la panne in the extreme west, and which is connected with the system of state railways at various points. from ostend, through middelkerke, to plage de westende, an electric railway has been constructed, close to the beach and parallel to the vicinal (which is about a mile inland), on which trains run every ten minutes during the summer season. as an instance of the speed and energy with which these works for the convenience of the public are carried out, when once they have been decided upon, it may be mentioned that the contract for the portion of the electric line between middelkerke and plage de westende, a distance of about a mile and a half, was signed on may 9, that five days later 200 workmen began to cut through the dunes, embank and lay the permanent way, and that on june 25, in spite of several interruptions owing to drifting sand and heavy rains, the first train of the regular service arrived at plage de westende. [illustration: la panne. interior of a flemish inn.] a large sum, amounting to several millions of francs, is voted every year for the protection of the shores of flanders against the encroachments of the sea, by the construction of these solid embankments of brickwork and masonry, which will, in the course of a few years, extend in an unbroken line along the whole coast from end to end. the building of these massive sea-walls is a work of great labour and expense, for what seems to be an impregnable embankment, perhaps 30 feet high and 90 feet broad, solid and strong enough to resist the most violent breakers, will be undermined and fall to pieces in a few hours, if not made in the proper way. a _digue_, no matter how thick, which rests on the sand alone will not last. a thick bed of green branches bound together must first be laid down as a foundation: this is strengthened by posts driven through it into the sand. heavy timbers, resting on bundles of branches lashed together, are wedged into the foundations, and slope inwards and upwards to within a few feet of the height to which it is intended to carry the _digue_. on the top another solid bed of branches is laid down, and the whole is first covered with concrete, and then with bricks or tiles, while the edge of the _digue_, at the top of the seaward slope, is composed of heavy blocks of stone cemented together and bound by iron rivets. _digues_ made in this solid fashion, all of them higher above the shore than the thames embankment is above the river, and some of them broader than the embankment, will, before very many years have passed, stretch along the whole coast of flanders without a break, and will form not only a defence against the tides, but a huge level promenade, with the dunes on one side and the sea on the other. this is a gigantic undertaking, but it will be completed during the lifetime of the present generation. [illustration: la panne. a flemish inn--playing skittles.] another grandiose idea, which is actually being carried into effect, is to connect all the seaside resorts on the coast of flanders by a great boulevard, 40 yards wide, with a road for carriages and pedestrians, a track for motor-cars and bicycles, and an electric railway, all side by side. large portions of this magnificent roadway, which is to be known as the 'route royale,' have already been completed between blankenberghe and ostend, and from ostend to plage de westende. from westende it will be continued to nieuport-bains, crossing the yser by movable bridges, and thence to la panne, and so onwards, winding through the dunes, over the french borders, and perhaps as far as paris! a single day's journey through the district which this 'route royale' is to traverse will lead the traveller through the most interesting part of the dunes, and introduce him to most of the favourite _plages_ on the coast of flanders, and thus give him an insight into many characteristic flemish scenes. la panne, for instance, and adinkerque, in the west and on the confines of france, are villages inhabited by fishermen who have built their dwellings in sheltered places amongst the dunes. the low white cottages of la panne, with the strings of dried fish hanging on the walls, nestle in the little valley from which the place takes its name (for _panne_ in flemish means 'a hollow'), surrounded by trees and hedges, gay with wild roses in the summer-time. each cottage stands in its small plot of garden ground, and most of the families own fishing-boats of their own, and farm a holding which supplies them with potatoes and other vegetables. for a long time these cottages were the only houses at la panne, which was seldom visited, except by a few artists; but about fifteen years ago the surveyors and the architects made their appearance, paths and roads were laid out, and, as if by magic, cottages and villas and the inevitable _digue de mer_ have sprung up on the dunes near the sea, and not very far from the original village. the chief feature of the new la panne is that the houses are, except those on the sea-front, built on the natural levels of the ground, some perched on the tops of the dunes, and others in the hollows which separate them. the effect is extremely picturesque, and the example of the builders of la panne is being followed at other places, notably at duinbergen, one of the very latest bathing stations, which has risen during the last three years about a mile to the east of heyst. another very interesting place is the plage de westende, the present terminus of the electric railway from ostend. the old village of westende lies a mile inland on the highway between nieuport and ostend, close to the scene of the battle of the dunes. this plage is, indeed, a model seaside resort, with a _digue_ which looks down upon a shore of the finest sand, and from which, of an evening, one sees the lights of ostend in the east, and the revolving beacon at dunkirk shining far away to the west. the houses which front the sea, all different from each other, are in singularly good taste; and behind them are a number of detached cottages and villas, large and small, in every variety of design. ten years ago the site of this little town was a rabbit warren; now everything is up to date: electric light in every house, perfect drainage, a good water-supply, tennis courts, and an admirable hotel, where even the passing stranger feels at home. though only three-quarters of an hour from noisy, crowded, bustling ostend by the railway, it is one of the quietest and most comfortable places on the coast of flanders, and can be reached by travellers from england in a few hours. some years hence the lovely, peaceful plage de westende may have grown too big, but when the sand has all been turned into gold, and when the contractors and builders have grown rich, those who have known westende in its earlier days will think of it as the quiet spot about which at one time only a few people used to stroll; where perhaps the poet verhaeren found something to inspire him; where many a long summer's evening was spent in pleasant talk on history, and painting, and music by a little society of men and women who spoke french, or german, or english, as the fancy took them, and laughed, and quoted, and exchanged ideas on every subject under the sun; where the professor of music once argued, and sprang up to prove his point by playing--but that is an allusion, or, as mr. kipling would say, 'another story.' the district in which westende lies, with lombaerdzyde, nieuport, furnes, and coxyde close together, is the most interesting on the coast of flanders. le coq, on the other hand, is in that part of the dune country which has least historical interest, and is chiefly known as the place where the royal golf club de belgique has its course. it is only twenty minutes from ostend on the vicinal railway, which has a special station for golfers near the club house. there is no _digue_, and the houses are dotted about in a valley behind the dunes. this place has a curious resemblance to a swiss village. a few years ago the owners of lands upon the flemish littoral began to grasp the fact that there was a sport called golf, on which englishmen were in the habit of spending money, and that it would be an addition to the attractions of ostend if, beside the racecourse, there was a golf-course. king leopold, who is said to contemplate using all the land between the outskirts of ostend and le coq for sporting purposes, paid a large sum, very many thousands of francs, out of his own pocket, and the golf-links at le coq were laid out. the club house is handsome and commodious, but, unfortunately, the course itself, which is the main thing, is not very satisfactory, being far too artificial. the natural 'bunkers' were filled up, and replaced by ramparts and ditches like those on some inland courses in england. on the putting greens the natural undulations of the ground have been levelled, and the greens are all as flat and smooth as billiard-tables. there are clumps of ornamental wood, flower-beds, and artificial ponds with goldfish swimming in them. it is all very pretty, but it is hardly golf. what with the 'grand prix d'ostende,' the 'prix des roses,' the 'prix des ombrelles, handicap libre, réservé aux dames,' the 'grand prix des dames,' and a number of other _objets d'art_, which are offered for competition on almost every day from the beginning of june to the end of september, this is a perfect paradise for the pot-hunter and his familiar friend colonel bogey. real golf, the strenuous game, which demands patience and steady nerves, perhaps, more than any other outdoor game, is not yet quite understood by many belgians; but the bag of clubs is every year becoming more common on the dover mail-boats. most of these golf-bags find their way to knocke, where many of the english colony at bruges spend the summer, and which, as the coast of flanders becomes better known, is visited every year by increasing numbers of travellers from the other side of the channel. knocke is in itself one of the least attractive places on the flemish littoral. the old village, a nondescript collection of houses, lies on the vicinal railway about a mile from the sea, which is reached by a straight roadway, and where there is a _digue_, numerous hotels, pensions, and villas, all of which are filled to overflowing in the season. the air, indeed, is perfect, and there are fine views from the _digue_ and the dunes of the island of walcheren, flushing, and the estuary of the scheldt; but the place was evidently begun with no definite plan: the dunes were ruthlessly levelled, and the result is a few unlovely streets, and a number of detached houses standing in disorder amidst surroundings from which everything that was picturesque has long since departed. but the dunes to the east are wide, and enclose a large space of undulating ground; and here the bruges golf and sports club has its links, which present a very complete contrast to the belgian course at le coq. the links at knocke, if somewhat rough and ready, are certainly sporting in the highest degree. some of the holes, those in what is known as the green valley, are rather featureless; but in the other parts of the course there are numerous natural hazards, bunkers, and hillocks thick with sand and rushes. it has no pretentions to be a 'first-class' course (for one thing, it is too short), but in laying out the eighteen holes the ground has been utilized to the best advantage, and the royal and ancient game flourishes more at knocke than at any other place in belgium. the owners of the soil and the hotel-keepers, with a keen eye to business, and knowing that the golfing alone brings the english, from whom they reap a golden harvest, to knocke, do all in their power to encourage the game, and it is quite possible that before long other links may be established along the coast. the soil of the strip behind the dunes is not so suitable for golf as the close turf of st. andrews, north berwick, or prestwick, for in many places it consists of sand with a slight covering of moss; but with proper treatment it could probably be improved and hardened. it is merely a question of money, and money will certainly be forthcoming if the government, the communes, and the private owners once see that this form of amusement will add to the popularity of the littoral. a short mile's walk to the west of knocke brings us to duinbergen, one of the newest of the flemish _plages_, founded in the year 1901 by the société anonyme de duinbergen, a company in which some members of the royal family are said to hold shares. at knocke and others of the older watering-places everything was sacrificed to the purpose of making money speedily out of every available square inch of sand, and the first thing done was to destroy the dunes. but at duinbergen the good example set by the founders of la panne has been followed and improved upon, and nothing could be more _chic_ than this charming little place, which was planned by herr stübben, of cologne, an architect often employed by the king of the belgians, whose idea was to create a small garden city among the dunes. the dunes have been carefully preserved; the roads and pathways wind round them; most of the villas and cottages have been erected in places from which a view of the sea can be obtained; and even the _digue_ has been built in a curve in order to avoid the straight line, which is apt to give an air of monotony to the rows of villas, however picturesque they may be in themselves, which face the sea at other places. so artistic is the appearance of the houses that the term 'style duinbergen' is used by architects to describe it. electric lighting, a copious supply of water rising by gravitation to the highest houses, and a complete system of drainage, add to the luxuries and comforts of this _plage_, which is one of the best illustrations of the wonders which have been wrought among the dunes by that spirit of enterprise which has done so much for modern flanders during the last few years. coxyde--the scenery of the dunes chapter xi coxyde--the scenery of the dunes the whole of the coast-line is within the province of west flanders, and its development in recent years is the most striking fact in the modern history of the part of belgium with which this volume deals. the change which has taken place on the littoral during the last fifteen or twenty years is extraordinary, and the contrast between the old flanders and the new, between the flanders which lingers in the past and the flanders which marches with the times, is brought vividly before us by the difference between such mediæval towns as bruges, furnes, or nieuport, and the bright new places which glitter on the sandy shores of the flemish coast. but in almost every corner of the dunes, close to these signs of modern progress, there is something to remind us of that past history which is, after all, the great charm of flanders. one of the most characteristic spots in the land of the dunes is the village of coxyde, which lies low amongst the sandhills, about five miles west from nieuport, out of sight of the sea, but inhabited by a race of fisherfolk who, curiously enough, pursue their calling on horseback. mounted on their little horses, and carrying baskets and nets fastened to long poles, they go into the sea to catch small fish and shrimps. it is strange to see them riding about in the water, sometimes in bands, but more frequently alone or in pairs; and this curious custom, which has been handed down from father to son for generations, is peculiar to the part of the coast which lies between la panne and the borders of france. near coxyde, and at the corner where the road from furnes turns in the direction of la panne, is a piece of waste ground which travellers on the vicinal railway pass without notice. but here once stood the famous abbey of the dunes. [illustration: coxyde. a shrimper on horseback.] in the first years of the twelfth century a pious hermit named lyger took up his abode in these solitary regions, built a dwelling for himself, and settled down to spend his life in doing good works and in the practice of religion. soon, as others gathered round him, his dwelling grew into a monastery, and at last, in the year 1122, the abbey of the dunes was founded. it was nearly half a century before the great building, which is said to have been the first structure of such a size built of brick in flanders, was completed; but when at last the work was done the abbey was, by all accounts, one of the most magnificent religious houses in flanders, consisting of a group of buildings with no less than 105 windows, a rich and splendid church, so famous for its ornamental woodwork that the carvings of the stalls were reproduced in the distant abbey of melrose in scotland, and a library which, as time went on, became a storehouse of precious manuscripts and hundreds of those wonderfully illustrated missals on which the monks of the middle ages spent so many laborious hours. we can imagine them in the cells of coxyde copying and copying for hours together, or bending over the exquisitely coloured drawings which are still preserved in the museums of flanders. but their most useful work was done on the lands which lay round the abbey. there were at coxyde in the thirteenth century no fewer than 150 monks and 248 converts engaged at one time in cultivating the soil.[*] they drained the marshes, and planted seeds where seeds would grow, until, after years of hard labour on the barren ground, the abbey of the dunes was surrounded by wide fields which had been reclaimed and turned into a fertile oasis in the midst of that savage and inhospitable desert. [footnote *: derode, _histoire religieuse de la flandre maritime_, p.86.] when st. bernard was preaching the crusade in flanders he came to coxyde. on his advice the monks adopted the order of the cistercians, and their first abbot under the new rule afterwards sat in the chair of st. bernard himself as abbot of clairvaux. thereafter the cistercian abbey of the dunes grew in fame, especially under the rule of st. idesbaldus, who had come there from furnes, where he had been a canon of the church of ste. walburge. 'it has also a special interest for english folk. it long held lands in the isle of sheppey, as well as the advowson of the church of eastchurch, in the same island. these were bestowed on it by richard the lion-hearted. the legend says that these gifts were made to reward its sixth abbot, elias, for the help he gave in releasing richard from captivity. anyhow, royal charters, and dues from the archbishop of canterbury, and a bull of pope celestine iii., confirmed the abbey in its english possessions and privileges. the abbey seems to have derived little benefit from these, and finally, by decision of a general congregation of the cistercian order, handed them over to the abbot and chapter of bexley, to recoup the latter for the cost of entertaining monks of the order going abroad, or returning from the continent, on business of the order.'[*] [footnote *: robinson, _bruges, an historical sketch_, p. 176.] [illustration: coxyde. a shrimper.] the english invasion of the fifteenth century destroyed the work of the monks in their fields and gardens, but the abbey itself was spared; and the great disaster did not come until a century later, when the image-breakers, who had begun their work amongst the gothic arches of antwerp, spread over west flanders, and descended upon coxyde. the abbey was attacked, and the monks fled to bruges, carrying with them many of their treasures, which are still to be seen in the collection on the quai de la poterie, beyond the bridge which is called the pont des dunes. the noble building, so long the home of so much piety and learning, and from which so many generations of apostles had gone forth to toil in the fields and minister to the poor, was abandoned, and allowed to fall into ruins, until at last it gradually sunk into complete decay, and was buried beneath the sands. not a trace of it now remains. history has few more piteous sermons to preach on the vanity of all the works of men. the fishermen on the coast of flanders have, from remote times, paid their vows in the hour of danger to notre dame de lombaerdzyde. if they escape from some wild storm they go on a pilgrimage of thanksgiving. they walk in perfect silence along the road to the shrine, for not a word must be spoken till they reach it; and these hardy seafaring men may be seen kneeling at the altar of the old, weather-beaten church which stands on the south side of the highway through the village, and in which are wooden models of ships hung up as votive offerings before an image of the virgin, which is the object of peculiar veneration. the madonna of lombaerdzyde did not prevail to keep the sea from invading the village at the time when the inhabitants were driven to nieuport, but the belief in her miraculous power is as strong to-day as it was in the dark ages. [illustration: adinkerque. village and canal.] there is a view of lombaerdzyde which no one strolling on the dunes near nieuport should fail to see--a perfect picture, as typical of the scenery in these parts as any landscape chosen by hobbema or ruysdael. a causeway running straight between two lofty dunes of bare sand, and bordered by stunted trees, forms a long vista at the end of which lombaerdzyde appears--a group of red-roofed houses, with narrow gables and white walls, and in the middle the pointed spire of the church, beyond which the level plain of flanders, dotted with other villages and churches and trees in formal rows, stretches away into the distance until it merges in the horizon. adinkerque, a picturesque village beyond furnes, is another place which calls to mind many a picture of the flemish artists in the musée of antwerp and the mauritshuis at the hague; and the recesses of the dune country in which these places are hidden has a wonderful fascination about it--the irregular outlines of the dunes, some high and some low, sinking here into deep hollows of firm sand, and rising there into strange fantastic shapes, sometimes with sides like small precipices on which nothing can grow, and sometimes sloping gently downwards and covered with trembling poplars, spread in confusion on every side. often near the shore the sandy barrier has been broken down by the wind or by the waves, and a long gulley formed, which cuts deep into the dunes, and through which the sand drifts inland till it reaches a steep bank clothed with rushes, against which it heaps itself, and so, rising higher with the storms of each winter, forms another dune. this process has been going on for ages. the sands are for ever shifting, but moss begins to grow in sheltered spots; such wild flowers as can flourish there bloom and decay; the poplars shed their leaves, and nourish by imperceptible degrees the fibres of the moss; some hardy grasses take root; and at length a scanty greensward appears. by such means slowly, in the microcosm of the dunes, have been evolved out of the changing sands places fit for men to live in, until now along the strip which guards the coast of flanders there are green glades gay with flowers, and shady dells, and gardens sheltered from the wind, plots of pasture-land, cottages and churches which seem to grow out of the landscape, their colouring so harmonizes with the colouring which surrounds them. and ever, close at hand, the sea is rolling in and falling on the shore. 'come unto these yellow sands,' and when the sun is going down, casting a long bar of burnished gold across the water, against which, perhaps, the sail of some boat looms dark for a moment and then passes on, the sky glows in such a lovely, tender light that those who watch it must needs linger till the twilight is fading away before they turn their faces inland. there are few evenings for beauty like a summer evening on the shores of flanders. index abbey of the dunes; of melrose adinkerque 'adoration of the immaculate lamb' albert, archduke, portrait at furnes; at the battle of the dunes, marries the infanta isabella; character of; wounded albert, prince, at bruges ancona, bishop of andré, st., village of âne aveugle, rue de l' angelo, michael anglaises, couvent des dames antwerp, cathedral of arschot, duc d' artevelde, jacques van artevelde, philip van artois, comte d' augustinian nuns baldwin, bras-de-fer, real founder of bruges; defends flanders; marries judith; builds church of st. donatian baldwin, king of jerusalem baldwin of constantinople baldwin vii. bannockburn bardi, money-changers at bruges bassin de commerce at bruges battle of the dunes _et seq._ battle of the golden spurs _et seq._ béguinage at bruges; grove of béhuchet, nicholas belfry of bruges belgian parliament passes law for harbour near heyst berlaimont, comte florent de bernard, st., of clairvaux bertulf, provost of st. donatian bexley bicycles, import duty on 'bird of honour' blankenberghe, new harbour near; english fleet at, in 1340 boniface viii. bouchoute, hôtel de borthwick, colonel boterbeke bourg, place du, at bruges brangwyn, william breidel, john breskens bristol, earl of, at bruges bruges, described by john of ypres; origin of name; primitive township of; boundaries in early times; market-place; halles; early trade; the loove at; growth of; capital of west flanders; baldwin bras-de-fer its real founder; place du bourg; murder of charles the good; joanna of navarre at; death of marie, wife of maximilian; hôtel de ville; customs house; oriental appearance in middle ages; produce sent to, in middle ages; hanseatic league at; consulates at; splendour of, in middle ages; under the house of burgundy; loss of trade; pauperism; charles ii. at _et seq._; list of charles ii.'s household at; death of catherine of braganza at; fate of church at french revolution; napoleon at; state of, since revolution of 1830; english jesuits at; queen victoria at; relic of holy blood at _et seq._; procession of the holy blood _et seq._; relic of the holy cross bruges matins brussels, charles ii. at; church of ste. gudule; hôtel de ville burchard burgundy, charles, duke of burgundy, house of burnet, bishop butler, mr. j. caine, mr. hall 'cairless,' mr. capucins, chapel of, at furnes casa negra cathedral of antwerp cathedral of st. martin at ypres cathedral of st. sauveur at bruges catherine of braganza celestine iii. chapel of the capucins at furnes chapelle du saint-sang (st. basil's) at bruges charlemagne charles ii. of england at bruges _et seq._ charles the bald charles the bold charles the good charles v. charles vi. châtillon, jacques de chemins-de-fer vicinaux church of jerusalem at bruges church of notre dame at bruges church of st. donatian at bruges church of ste. walburge cistercians clairvaux clauwerts clement v. clement vii. cologne comte de la hanse congress of vienna coninck, peter de consulate of france; of spain; of smyrna coolkerke courtrai couvent des dames anglaises coxyde cranenberg crecy, battle of cromwell customs house at bruges dalgetty, dugald damme _et seq._; population of; röles de; harbour blocked up dampierre, guy de david, gerard deprysenaere, jean of ypres _digues de mer_, construction of donatian, church of st., built by baldwin bras-de-fer; bertulf, provost of; site of; murder of charles the good in; destroyed don john of austria dordrecht duinbergen dunes, battle of the; scenery of _et seq._ dyver, the, at bruges edward iii. edward iv. egmont, count elias, sixth abbot of coxyde english merchant adventurers erembalds _et seq._; feud with straetens; destruction of ethelbald ethelwulf, husband of judith, daughter of charles the bald evendyck eyck, van, elder and younger flanders, state of, in early times; invaded by normans; origin of title 'count of'; defended by baldwin bras-de-fer; allied to england; neutrality of, in 1340 and 1830; invaded by french; plain of _et seq._; ignorance of country people in; smuggling between france and; annexed to france; invaded by english; causes of disunion in; ceded to the infanta isabella; contrast between different parts of; coast of _et seq._ flotte, pierre, chancellor of france flushing fox, sir stephen france, flanders annexed to france, palais du french consulate at bruges furnes; procession of penitents at; church of ste. walburge; hôtel de ville and palais de justice; church of st. nicholas; corps de garde espagnol and pavillon des officiers espagnols gand, porte de gardiner, dr., quoted gauthier de sapignies genoese merchants, house of, at bruges george iii. germany, emigrations from flanders to ghent ghiselhuis gilliat-smith, author of _the story of bruges_ gloucester, henry, duke of _et seq._ godshuisen golden fleece, order of the golden spurs, battle of the golf in belgium 'governor of the english colony beyond the seas' grande dame of béguinage grande salle des echevins at bruges great storm of thirteenth century gruthuise guildhouse of st. sebastian at bruges gustavus adolphus guy de dampierre haecke, canon van halle de drapiers at ypres halle de paris at bruges halles at bruges hamilton, sir james hanseatic league het paradijs heyst hobbema hogarth holland, béguinages in holy blood, relic and chapel of, at bruges; procession of the holy cross, relic of holy sepulchre, church of, at jerusalem hoogenblekker horn, count hôtel de bouchoute at bruges hôtel de ville at bruges; at furnes house of the seven towers hyde (lord clarendon) idesbaldus, st. inquisition in flanders isabella, the infanta jerusalem, baldwin, king of jerusalem, church of, at bruges jesse, _memoirs of the court of england_ jesuits at bruges joanna of navarre john of ypres joseph ii. joseph of arimathæa judith, wife of baldwin bras-de-fer justice, palais du, at bruges; at furnes kadzand kermesse king, thomas harper knights of the golden fleece knocke lac d'amour la panne le coq _legend of montrose_ lejeusne, mathurin leliarts leonius leopold i. leopold ii. lilly the astrologer lincoln, bishop of lombaerdzyde longfellow, quoted loove, the, at bruges louis of maele louis of nevers louis xiv. louvain luxembourg lyger maele, louis of maison des orientaux mannaert marbriers, quai des mariakerke maria theresa market-place of bruges mary, 'the gentle' matins of bruges maurice of nassau mauritshuis at the hague maximilian, archduke mazarin melrose abbey memlinc meuninxhove, john van michael angelo middelkerke minnewater miracles wrought by the holy blood at bruges morgarten mother superior of béguinage murray, sir robert napoleon at bruges; return from elba; canal to sluis constructed by navarre, joanna of neutrality of flanders in 1340 and 1830 nevers, louis of nicholas i., pope nicholas, sir edward nieuport; origin of; besieged by prince maurice; fallen state of nieuport-bains 'nieuwerck,' at ypres nimeguen, treaty of nivelles noé, michael normans in flanders norwich, earl of notre dame, church of, at bruges notre dame de lombaerdzyde notre dame de thuine 'old england' at bruges oosterlingen plaats oostkerke orientaux, maison des; place des ormonde osburga ostend, growth of otlet, m. paul _note_ ouden burg palais de justice, at bruges; at furnes palais du franc paradijs, het parijssche halle paris parma, duke of, in flanders pauperism of bruges philip ii. cedes spanish netherlands to his daughter philip iii. philip of valois philip the fair place des orientaux place du bourg pont des dunes pope clement v.; vii.; boniface viii.; celestine iii.; urban vi. poperinghe porte de damme porte de gand porte ste. croix procession of the holy blood at bruges _et seq._; of penitents at furnes pruyssenaere, peter quai espagnol; long; des marbriers; du miroir; de la potterie; du rosaire; spinola; vert rastadt, treaty of richard i. robinson, mr. wilfrid, author of _bruges, an historical sketch_ rochester, earl of rodenbach röles de damme rome, flight of baldwin and judith to roosebeke, battle of rosaire, quai du roulers route royale roya rue anglaise, in bruges; de l'âne aveugle; des carmes; cour de gand; espagnole; flamande; haute; neuve; du vieux bourg ruysdael santhoven scarphout 'schielt ende vriendt' schomberg schoutteeten 'scotland,' at bruges scottish merchants at bruges scott, sir walter see-brugge senlis sheppey, isle of sluis smith, gilliatsmet de naeyer, comte smyrna, consulate of, at bruges spaniards, at bruges; at furnes spanish inquisition spencer, henry, bishop of norwich st. andré, village of st. basil, church of st. bavon st. bernard of clairvaux st. donatian, church of st. george, society of st. idesbaldus st. john, hospital of st. martin, church of, at furnes st. nicholas, church of, at furnes st. omer, jesuits of st. peter's, at ghent st. sauveur, church of st. sebastian, society of, at bruges; at ypres ste. elizabeth, church of ste. gudule, church of ste. monica, church of ste. walburge, church of, at bruges; at furnes straetens stübben, herr swift, dean sybilla, wife of thierry d'alsace sydenham, colonel syria tarah, viscount 'ter streep' thierry d'alsace _et seq._ 'thuindag' thurloe state papers titelman the inquisitor torquemada tournai 'tower of london' at bruges turner, sir james valois, philip of van eyck vauban, fortifies ypres verhaeren, m., belgian poet vienna, congress of vieux bourg, rue du virgin and child, statue of, at bruges urban vi. victoria, queen, at bruges walburge, ste., church of, at bruges; at furnes walcheren waterloo, battle of weavers, guild of wenduyne westcapelle westende, village; plage william, bishop of ancona york, duke of, at bruges _et seq._ ypres; field preaching near; churches sacked; taken by parma; by the protestants; place du musée; besieged by louis xiv.; fortified by vauban; ceded to france; described by vauban in 1689; taken by the french in 1794; during the hundred days; end of military history; grand place and cloth hall; monopoly of weaving linen; manages with bruges the hanseatic league in flanders; the nieuwerck; riots at; siege of, by english _et seq._; john of ypres describes early bruges yser zwijn zuyder zee transcriber's note the punctuation and spelling from the original text have been faithfully preserved. only obvious typographical errors have been corrected. [illustration: the great cloth hall: ypres] [illustration: vanished towers and chimes of flanders _written and pictured by_ george wharton edwards the penn publishing company 1916 _philadelphia_] copyright 1916 by george wharton edwards vanished towers and chimes of flanders foreword the unhappy flemish people, who are at present much in the lime-light, because of the invasion and destruction of their once smiling and happy little country, were of a character but little known or understood by the great outside world. the very names of their cities and towns sounded strangely in foreign ears. towns named ypres, courtrai, alost, furnes, tournai, were in the beginning of the invasion unpronounceable by most people, but little by little they have become familiar through newspaper reports of the barbarities said to have been practised upon the people by the invaders. books giving the characteristics of these heroic people are eagerly sought. unhappily these are few, and it would seem that these very inadequate and random notes of mine upon some phases of the lives of these people, particularly those related to architecture, and the music of their renowned chimes of bells, might be useful. that the fleming was not of an artistic nature i found during my residence in these towns of flanders. the great towers and wondrous architectural marvels throughout this smiling green flat landscape appealed to him not at all. he was not interested in either art, music, or literature. he was of an intense practical nature. i am of course speaking of the ordinary or "bourgeois" class now. then, too, the class of great landed proprietors was numerically very small indeed, the land generally being parcelled or hired out in small squares or holdings by the peasants themselves. occasionally the commune owned the land, and sublet portions to the farmers at prices controlled to some extent by the demand. rarely was a "taking" (so-called) more than five acres or so in extent. many of the old "noblesse" are without landed estates, and this, i am informed, was because their lands were forfeited when the french republic annexed belgium, and were never restored to them. thus the whole region of the flemish littoral was given over to small holdings which were worked on shares by the peasants under general conditions which would be considered intolerable by the anglo-saxon. a common and rather depressing sight on the belgian roads at dawn of day, were the long lines of trudging peasants, men, women and boys hurrying to the fields for the long weary hours of toil lasting often into the dark of night. but we were told they were working for their own profit, were their own masters, and did not grumble. this grinding toil in the fields, as practised here where nothing was wasted, could not of course be a happy or healthful work, nor calculated to elevate the peasant in intelligence, so as a matter of fact the great body of the country people, who were the laborers, were steeped in an extraordinary state of ignorance. if their education was neglected, they are still sound catholics, and it may be that it was not thought to be in the interest of the authorities that they should be instructed in more worldly affairs. i am not prepared to argue this question. i only know that while stolid, and unemotional ordinarily, they are intensely patriotic. they became highly excited during the struggle some years ago to have their flemish tongue preserved and taught in the schools, and i remember the crowds of people thronging the streets of antwerp, ghent and bruges, with bands of music playing, and huge banners flying, bearing in large letters legends such as "flanders for the flemings." "hail to the flemish lion" and "flanders to the death." all this was when the struggle between the two parties was going on. the flemings won, be it recorded. let alone, the fleming would have worked out his own salvation in his own way. the country was prosperous. the king and queen were popular, indeed beloved; all seemed to be going well with the people. although belgium was not a military power such as its great neighbors to the north, the east, and the south, its army played an important part in the lives of the people, and the strategical position which the country held filled in the map the ever present question of "balance"; the never absent possibility of the occasion arising when the army would be called upon to defend the neutrality of the little country. but they never dreamed that it would come so soon.... one might close with the words of the great flemish song of the poet ledeganck: "thou art no more, the towns of yore: the proud-necked, world-famed towns, the doughty lion's lair;" (written in 1846.) [the author] greenwich, conn. april, 1916. contents page malines, and some of the vanished towers 17 some carillons of flanders 41 dixmude 55 ypres 65 commines 85 bergues 93 nieuport 99 alost 111 courtrai 119 termonde (dendermonde) 133 louvain 147 douai 157 oudenaarde 163 furnes 171 the artists of malines 181 a word about the belgians 199 list of illustrations the great cloth hall: ypres _frontispiece_ title page decoration page the tower of st. rombauld: malines 18 malines: a quaint back street 22 porte de bruxelles: malines 26 the beguinage: dixmude 34 detail of the chimes in the belfry of st. nicholas: dixmude 42 the belfry: bergues 46 the old porte marechale: bruges 50 the ancient place: dixmude 56 the great jube, or altar screen: dixmude 58 the fish market: dixmude 60 no. 4, rue de dixmude: ypres 72 arcade of the cloth hall: ypres 76 gateway, wall, and old moat: ypres 80 the belfry: commines 88 the towers of st. winoc: bergues 94 the tower of the templars: nieuport 100 the town hall--hall of the knights templar: nieuport 103 tower in the grand' place: nieuport 104 the town hall: alost 112 the belfry: courtrai 120 the broël towers: courtrai 124 the museum: termonde 138 the cathedral: louvain 148 the town hall: louvain 150 the town hall: douai 158 the town hall: oudenaarde 164 old square and church: oudenaarde 166 the fish market: ypres 172 the church of our lady of hanswyk 190 malines [illustration: vanished towers _and_ chimes of flanders] malines the immense, flat-topped, gray gothic spire which dominated the picturesque line of low, red-tiled roofs showing here and there above the clustering, dark-green masses of trees in level meadows, was that of st. rombauld, designated by vauban as "the eighth wonder of the world," constructed by keldermans, of the celebrated family of architects. he it was who designed the bishop's palace, and the great town halls of louvain, oudenaarde, and brussels, although some authorities allege that gauthier coolman designed the cathedral. but without denying the power and artistry of this latter master, we may still believe in the well-established claim of keldermans, who showed in this great tower the height of art culminating in exalted workmanship. keldermans was selected by marguerite and philip of savoie to build the "greatest church in europe," and the plans, drawn with the pen on large sheets of parchment pasted together, which were preserved in the brussels museum up to the outbreak of the war, show what a wonder it was to have been. these plans show the spire complete, but the project was never realized. charles the fifth, filled with admiration for this masterpiece, showered keldermans with honors; made him director of construction of the towns of antwerp, brussels, and malines, putting thus the seal of artistic perfection upon his dynasty. [illustration: the tower of st. rombauld: malines] historical documents in the brussels library contained the following: "the precise origin of the commencements of the cathedral of malines is unknown, as the ancient records were destroyed, together with the archives, during the troubles in the sixteenth century. the 'nefs' and the transepts are the most ancient, their construction dating from the thirteenth century. it is conjectured that the first three erections of altars in the choir and the consecration of the monument took place in march, 1312. the great conflagration of may, 1342, which destroyed nearly all of the town, spared the church itself, but consumed the entire roof of heavy beams of norway pine. the ruins remained thus for a long period because of lack of funds for restoration, and in the meantime services were celebrated in the church of st. catherine. it was not until 1366 that the cathedral was sufficiently repaired to be used by the canons. once begun, however, the repairs continued, although slowly. but the tower remained uncompleted as it was at the outbreak of the great war, standing above the square at the great height of 97.70 metres." on each face of the tower was a large open-work clock face, or "cadran," of gilded copper. each face was forty-seven feet in diameter. these clock faces were the work of jacques willmore, an englishman by birth, but a habitant of malines, and cost the town the sum of ten thousand francs ($2000). the citizens so appreciated his work that the council awarded him a pension of two hundred florins, "which he enjoyed for fourteen years." st. rombauld was famous for its chime of forty-five bells of remarkable silvery quality: masterpieces of flemish bell founding. malines was for many hundreds of years the headquarters of bell founding. of the master bell founders, the most celebrated, according to the archives, was jean zeelstman, who practised his art for thirty years. he made, in 1446, for the ancient church of saint michel at louvain (destroyed by the vandals in 1914) a large bell, bearing the inscription: "michael prepositus paradisi quem nonoripicant angelorum civis fusa per johann zeelstman anno dmi, m. ccc. xlvi." the family of waghemans furnished a great number of bell founders of renown, who made many of the bells in the carillon of the cathedral of st. rombauld; and there was lastly the van den gheyns (or ghein), of which william of bois-le-duc became "bourgeoisie" (burgess) of malines in 1506. his son pierre succeeded to his business in 1533, and in turn left a son pierre ii, who carried on the great repute of his father. the tower of the hospice of notre dame contained in 1914 a remarkable old bell of clear mellow tone--bearing the inscription: "peeter van den ghein heeft mi ghegotten in't jaer m.d. lxxx viii." on the lower rim were the words: "campana sancti spiritus divi rumlodi." pierre van den ghein ii had but one son, pierre iii, who died without issue in 1618. william, however, left a second son, from whom descended the line of later bell founders, who made many of the bells of malines. of these pierre iv, who associated himself with pierre de clerck (a cousin german), made the great "bourdon" called salvator. during the later years of the seventeenth century, the van den gheyns seem to have quitted the town, seeking their fortunes elsewhere, for the foundry passed into other and less competent hands. in malines dwelt the primate of belgium, the now celebrated cardinal mercier, whose courageous attitude in the face of the invaders has aroused the admiration of the whole civilized world. malines, although near brussels, had, up to the outbreak of the war and its subsequent ruin, perhaps better preserved its characteristics than more remote towns of flanders. the market place was surrounded by purely flemish gabled houses of grayish stucco and stone, and these were most charmingly here and there reflected in the sluggish water of the rather evil-smelling river dyle. catholicism was a most powerful factor here, and the struggle between luther and loyola, separating the ancient from the modern in flemish architecture, was nowhere better exemplified than in malines. it has been said that the modern jesuitism succeeded to the ancient mysticism without displacing it, and the installation of the first in the very sanctuary of the latter has manifested itself in the ornamentation of the ecclesiastical edifices throughout flanders, and indeed this fact is very evident to the travelers in this region. the people of malines jealously retained the integrity of their ancient tongue, and many books in the language were published here. associations abounded in the town banded together for the preservation of flemish as a language. on fête days these companies, headed by bands of music, paraded the streets, bearing large silken banners on which, with the lion of flanders, were inscriptions such as "flanders for the flemish," and "hail to our flemish lion." on these occasions, too, the chimes in st. rombauld were played by a celebrated bell-ringer, while the square below the tower was black with people listening breathlessly to the songs of their forefathers, often joining in the chorus, the sounds of the voices carrying a long distance. on the opposite side of the square, in the center of which was a fine statue of margaret of austria, adjoining the recently restored "halles," a fine building in the purest renaissance was being constructed, certainly a credit to the town, and an honor to its architect, attesting as it did the artistic sense and prosperity of the people. this, too, lies now in ashes--alas! flanders fairly bloomed, if i may use the expression, with exquisite architecture, and this garden spot, this cradle of art, as it has well been called, is levelled now in heaps of shapeless ruin. [illustration: malines: a quaint back street] certainly in this damp, low-lying country the gothic style flourished amazingly, and brought into existence talent which produced many cathedrals, town halls, and gateways, the like of which were not to be found elsewhere in europe. these buildings, ornamented with lace-like traceries and crowded with statuary, their interiors embellished with choir screens of marvelous detail wrought in stone, preserved to the world the art of a half-forgotten past, and these works of incomparable art were being cared for and restored by the state for the benefit of the whole world. here, too, in malines was a most quaint "beguinage," or asylum, in an old quarter of the town, hidden away amid a network of narrow streets: a community of gentle-mannered, placid-faced women, who dwelt in a semi-religious retirement after the ancient rules laid down by sainte begga, in little, low, red-roofed houses ranged all about a grass-grown square. here, after depositing a considerable sum of money, they were permitted to live in groups of three and four in each house, each coming and going as she pleased, without taking any formal vow. their days were given up to church, hospital, parish duties and work among the sick and needy: an order, by the way, not found outside of flanders. each day brought for them a monotonous existence, the same duties at the same hours, waking in a gentle quietude, rhythmed by the silvery notes of the convent bell recalling them to the duties of their pious lives, all oblivious of the great outside world. each beguinage door bore the name of some saint, and often in a moss-covered niche in the old walls was seen a small statue of some saint, or holy personage, draped in vines. the heavy, barred door was nail studded, and furnished usually with an iron-grilled wicket, where at the sound of the bell of the visitor a panel slid back and a white-coiffed face appeared. this secluded quarter was not exclusively inhabited by these gentle women, for there were other dwellings for those that loved the quiet solitude of this end of the town. the malines beguinage was suppressed by the authorities in 1798, and it was not until 1804 that the order was permitted to resume operations under their former rights, nor were they allowed to resume their quaint costume until the year 1814. in the small church on my last visit i saw the portrait of the beguine catherine van halter, the work of the painter i. cossiers, and another picture by him representing the dead christ on the knees of the virgin surrounded by disciples. cossiers seemed to revel in the ghastliness of the scene, but the workmanship was certainly of a very high order. the beguine showed me with much pride their great treasure, a tiny, six-inch figure of the crucifixion, carved from one piece of ivory by jerome due quesnoy. it was of very admirable workmanship, the face being remarkable in expression. despatches (march, 1916) report this beguinage entirely destroyed by the siege guns. one wonders what was the fate of the saintly women. on the place de la boucherie in malines was the old "palais," which was used as a museum and contained many ill-assorted objects of the greatest interest and value, such as medals, embroideries, weapons, and a fine collection of ancient miniatures on ivory. there was also a great iron "armoire aux chartes," quite filled with priceless parchments, great vellum tomes, bound in brass; large waxen seals of dead and gone rulers and nobles; heavy volumes bound in leather, containing the archives. and also a most curious strong box bound in iron bands, nail studded, and with immense locks and keys, upon which reclined a strange, wooden figure with a grinning face, clad in the moth-eaten ancient dress of malines, representing "op signorken" (the card states), but the attendant told me it was the "vuyle bridegroom," and related a story of it which cannot be set down here, flemish ideas and speech being rather freer than ours. but the people, or rather the peasants, are devoted to him, and there were occasions when he was borne in triumph in processions when the town was "en fête." the ancient palace of margaret of york, wife of charles the bold, who after the tragic death of her consort retired to malines, was in the rue de l'empereur. it was used latterly as the hospital, and was utterly destroyed in the bombardment of 1914. the only remnant of the ancient fortifications, i found on my last visit in 1910, was the fine gate, the "porte de bruxelles," with a small section of the walls, all reflected in an old moat now overgrown with moss and sedge grass. there were, too, quaint vistas of the old tower of our lady of hanswyk and a number of arched bridges along the banks of the yellow dyle, which flows sluggishly through the old town. on the "quai-au-sel," i saw in 1910, a number of ancient façades, most picturesque and quaintly pinnacled. there also a small botanical garden floriated most luxuriantly, and here again the dyle reflected the mossy walls of ancient stone palaces, and there were rows of tall, wooden, carved posts standing in the stream, to which boats were moored as in venice. [illustration: porte de bruxelles: malines] throughout the town, up to the time of the bombardment, were many quaint market-places, all grass grown, wherein on market days were tall-wheeled, peasant carts, and lines of huge, hollow-backed, thick-legged, hairy horses, which were being offered for sale. and there were innumerable fountains and tall iron pumps of knights in armor; forgotten heroes of bygone ages, all of great artistic merit and value; and over all was the dominating tower of st. rombauld, vast, gray, and mysterious, limned against the pearly, luminous sky, the more impressive perhaps because of its unfinished state. and so, however interesting the other architectural attractions of malines might be, and they were many, it was always to the great cathedral that one turned, for the townspeople were so proud of the great gray tower, venerated throughout the whole region, that they were insistent that we should explore it to the last detail. "the bells," they would exclaim, "the great bells of saint rombauld! you have not yet seen them?" st. rombauld simply compelled one's attention, and ended by laying so firm a hold upon the imagination that at no moment of the day or night was one wholly unconscious of its unique presence. by day and night its chimes floated through the air "like the music of fairy bells," weird and soft, noting the passing hours in this ancient flemish town. for four hundred years it had watched over the varying fortunes of this region, gaining that precious quality which appealed to ruskin, who said, "its glory is in its age and in that deep sense of voicefulness, of stern watching, of mysterious sympathy, nay, even of approval or condemnation, which we feel in walls that have long been washed by the passing waves of humanity." from below the eye was carried upward by range upon range of exquisite gothic detail to the four great open-work, gilded, clock discs, through which one could dimly see the beautiful, open-pointed lancets behind which on great beams hung the carillon bells, row upon row. no words of mine can give any idea of the rich grayish brown of this old tower against the pale luminous sky, or the pathetic charm of its wild bell music, shattering down through the silent watches of the night, over the sleeping town, as i have heard it, standing by some silent, dark, palace-bordered canal, watching the tall tower melting into the immensity of the dusk, or by day in varying light and shade, in storm and sunshine, with wind-driven clouds chasing each other across the sky. the ascent of the tower was a formidable task, and really it seemed as if it must have been far more than three hundred and fifty feet to the topmost gallery, when i essayed it on that stormy august day. it was not an easy task to gain admittance to the tower; on two former occasions, when i made the attempt, the _custode_ was not to be found. "he had gone to market and taken the key to the tower door with him," said the withered old dame who at length understood my wish. on this day, however, she produced the key, a huge iron one, weighing, i should say, half a pound, from a nail behind the green door of the entry. she unlocked a heavy, white-washed door into a dusty, dim vestibule, and then proceeded to lock me in, pointing to another door at the farther end, saying, as she returned to her savory stew pot on the iron stove, "montez, montez, vous trouverez l'escalier." the heavy door swung to by a weight on a cord, and i was at the bottom step of the winding stairway of the tower. for a few steps upward the way was in darkness, up the narrow stone steps, clinging to a waxy, slippery rope attached to the wall, which was grimy with dust, the steps sloping worn and uneven. quaint, gloomy openings in the wall revealed themselves from time to time as i toiled upwards, openings into deep gulfs of mysterious gloom, spanned at times by huge oaken beams. here and there at dim landings, lighted by narrow gothic slits in the walls, were blackened, low doorways heavily bolted and studded with iron nails. the narrow slits of windows served only to let in dim, dusty beams of violet light. through one dark slit in the wall i caught sight of the huge bulk of a bronze bell, green with the precious patina of age, and i fancied i heard footsteps on the stairway that wound its way above. it was the watchman, a great hairy, oily fleming, clad in a red sort of jersey, and blue patched trousers. on the back of his shock of pale, rope-colored hair sat jauntily a diminutive cap with a glazed peak. in the lobes of his huge ears were small gold rings. i was glad to see him and to have his company in that place of cobwebs and dangling hand rope. i gave him a thick black cigar which i had bought in the market-place that morning, and struck a match from which we both had a light. he expressed wonder at my matches, those paper cartons common in america, but which he had never before seen. i gave them to him, to his delight. he brought me upwards into a room crammed with strange machinery, all cranks and levers and wires and pulleys, and before us two great cylinders like unto a "brobdingnagian" music box. he drew out a stool for me and courteously bade me be seated, speaking in french with a strong flemish accent. he was, he said, a mechanic, whose duty it was to care for the bells and the machinery. he had an assistant who went on duty at six o'clock. he served watches of eight hours. there came a "whir" from a fan above, and a tinkle from a small bell somewhere near at hand. he said that the half hour would strike in three minutes. had i ever been in a bell tower when the chimes played? yes? then m'sieur knew what to expect. i took out my watch, and from the tail of my eye i fancied that i saw a gleam in his as he appraised the watch i held in my hand. he drew his bench nearer to me and held out his great hairy, oily paw, saying, "let me see the pretty watch." "not necessary," i replied, putting it back in my pocket and calmly eying him, although my heart began to beat fast. i was alone in the tower with this hairy cerberus, who, for all i knew, might be contemplating doing me mischief. if i was in danger, as i might be, then i resolved to defend myself as well as i was able. i had an ammonia gun in my pocket which i carried to fend off ugly dogs by the roadside, which infest the country. and this i carried in my hip pocket. it resembled somewhat a forty-four caliber revolver. i put my hand behind me, drew it forth, eying him the while, and ostentatiously toyed with it before placing it in my blouse side pocket. it had, i thought, an instantaneous effect, for he drew back, opening his great mouth to say something, i know not what nor shall i ever know, for at that instant came a clang from the machinery, a warning whir of wheels, the rattle of chains, and one of the great barrels began to revolve slowly; up and down rattled the chains and levers, then, faint, sweet and far off, i heard a melodious jangle followed by the first notes of the "mirleton" i had so often heard below in the town, but now subdued, etherealized, and softened like unto the dream music one fancies in the night. the watchman now grinned reassuringly at me, and, rising, beckoned me with his huge grimy hand to follow him. grasping my good ammonia gun i followed him up a wooden stairway to a green baize covered door. this he opened to an inferno of crash and din. the air was alive with tumult and the booming of heavy metal. we were among the great bells of the bottom tier. before us was the "bourdon," so called, weighing 2,200 pounds, the bronze monster upon which the bass note was sounded, and which sounded the hour over the level fields of flanders. dimly above i could see other bells of various size, hanging tier upon tier from great, red-painted, wooden beams clamped with iron bands. i contrived to keep the watchman ever before me, not trusting him, although his frank smile somewhat disarmed my suspicion. it may be i did him an injustice, but i liked not the avaricious gleam in his little slits of eyes. the bells clanged and clashed as they would break from their fastenings and drop upon us, and my brain reeled with the discord. on they beat and boomed, as if they would never stop. no melody was now apparent, though down below it had seemed as if their sweetness was all too brief. up here in the tower they were not at all melodious; they were rough, discordant, and uneven, some sounding as though out of tune and cracked. all of the mystery and glamour of sweet tenderness, all their pathos and weirdness, had quite vanished, and here amid the smell of lubricating oil and the heavy, noisy grinding of the cog wheels, and the rattle of iron chains, all the poetry and elusiveness of the bells was certainly wanting. all at once just before me a great hammer raised its head, and then fell with a sounding clang upon the rim of a big bell; the half hour had struck. all about us the air resounded and vibrated with the mighty waves of sound. from the bells above finally came the hum of faint harmonics, and then followed silence like the stillness that ensues after a heavy clap of thunder. cerberus now beckoned me to accompany him amongst the bells, and showed me the machinery that sets this great marvel of sound in motion. he showed me the huge "tambour-carillon," with barrels all bestudded with little brass pegs which pull the wires connected with the great hammers, which in their turn strike the forty-six bells, that unrivaled chime known throughout flanders as the master work of the van den gheyns of louvain, who were, as already told, the greatest bell founders of the age. the great hour bell weighing, as already noted, nearly a ton, required the united strength of eight men to ring him. cerberus pointed out to me the narrow plank runway between the huge dusty beams, whereon these eight men stood to their task. the carillon tunes, he told me, were altered every year or so, and to do this required the entire changing of the small brass pegs in the cylinders, a most formidable task, i thought. he explained that the cutting of each hole costs sixty _centimes_ (twelve cents) and that there were about 30,000 holes, so that the change must be quite expensive, but i did not figure it out for myself. the musical range of this carillon chime of malines may be judged by the fact that it was possible to play, following on the hour, a selection from "don pasquale," and on the half and quarter hours a few bars from the "pre aux clercs." every seven and a half minutes sounded a few jangling sweet notes, and thus the air over the old town of malines and the small hamlets surrounding it both day and night was musical with the bells of the carillon. on fête days a certain famous bell ringer was engaged by the authorities to play the bells from the _clavecin_. this is a sort of keyboard with pedals played by hand and foot, fashioned like a rude piano. the work is very hard, one would think, but i have heard some remarkable results from it. in former times the office of "carilloneur" was a most important position, and, as in the case of the van den gheyn family of louvain, it was hereditary. the music played by these men, those "morceaux fugues," once the pride and pleasure of the netherlands, is now the wonder and despair of the modern bell ringer, however skillful he may be. [illustration: the beguinage: dixmude] cerberus informed me that sometimes months pass without a visit from a stranger to his tower room, and that he had to wind up the mechanism of the immense clock twice each day, and that of the carillon separately three times each twenty-four hours, and that it was required of him that he should sound two strokes upon the "do" bell after each quarter, to show that he was "on the job," so to speak. i told him i thought his task a hard and lonely one, and i offered him another of the black cigars, which he accepted with civility, but i kept my hand ostentatiously in my blouse pocket, where lay the ammonia gun, and he saw plainly that i did so. i am inclined now to think that my fears, as far as he was concerned, were groundless, but nevertheless they were very real that day in the old tower of saint rombauld. he began his task of winding up the mechanism, while i mounted the steep steps leading upwards to the top gallery. here on the open gallery i gazed north, east, south, and west over the placid, flat, green-embossed meadows threaded with silver, ribbon-like waterways, upon which floated red-sailed barges. below, as in the bottom of a bowl, lay malines, its small red-roofed houses stretching away in all directions to the remains of the ancient walls, topped here and there with a red-sailed windmill, in the midst of verdant fresh fields wooded here and there with clumps of willows, where the armies of the counts of flanders, and the van arteveldes, fought in the olden days. i could see the square below where, in the grand' place, those doughty knights of the golden fleece had gathered before the pilgrimage to the holy land. now a few dwarfed, black figures of peasants crawled like insects across the wide emptiness of it. here among the startled jackdaws i lounged smoking and ruminating upon the bells, oily cerberus, and his lonely task, and inhaling the misty air from the winding canals in the fertile green fields below--appraising the values of the pale diaphanous sky of misty blue, harmonizing so exquisitely with the tender greens of the landscape which had charmed cuyp and memling, until the blue was suffused with molten gold, and over all the landscape spread a tender and lovely radiance, which in turn became changed to ruddy flames in the west, and then the radiance began to fade. then i bethought me that it was time i sought out the terrible cerberus, the guardian of the tower, and induce him peaceably to permit me to go forth unharmed. i confess that i was coward enough to give him two francs as a fee instead of the single one which was his due, and then i stumbled down the long winding stairway, grasping the slippery hand rope timorously until i gained the street level, glad to be among fellow beings once more, but not sorry i had spent the afternoon among the bells of the carillon of saint rombauld--those bells which now lie broken among the ashes of the tower in the grand' place of the ruined town of malines. some carillons of flanders some carillons of flanders it is worth noting that nearly all of the noble flemish towers with their wealth of bells are almost within sight (and i had nearly written, sound) of each other. from the summit of the tower in antwerp one could see dimly the cathedrals of malines and brussels, perhaps even those of bruges and ghent in clear weather. haweis ("music and morals") says that "one hundred and twenty-six towers can be seen from the antwerp cathedral on a fair morning," and he was a most careful observer. "so these mighty spires, gray and changeless in the high air, seem to hold converse together over the heads of puny mortals, and their language is rolled from tower to tower by the music of the bells." "non sunt loquellae neque sermones, audiantur voces eorum," (there is neither speech nor language, but their voices are heard among men). this is an inscription copied by haweis in the tower at antwerp, from a great bell signed, "f. hemony amstelo-damia, 1658." speaking of the rich decorations which the van den gheyns and hemony lavished on their bells, he says, "the decorations worked in bas relief around some of the old bells are extremely beautiful, while the inscriptions are often highly suggestive, and even touching." these decorations are usually confined to the top and bottom rims of the bell, and are in low relief, so as to impede the vibration as little as possible. at malines on a bell bearing date "1697, antwerp" (now destroyed) there is an amazingly vigorous hunt through a forest with dogs and all kinds of animals. i did not see this bell when i was in the tower of st. rombauld, as the light in the bell chamber was very dim. the inscription was carried right around the bell, and had all the grace and freedom of a spirited sketch. [illustration: detail of the chimes in belfry of st nicholas: dixmude] on one of hemony's bells dated 1674 and bearing the inscription, "laudate domini omnes gentes," we noticed a long procession of cherub boys dancing and ringing flat hand bells such as are even now rung before the host in street processions. some of the inscriptions are barely legible because of the peculiarity of the gothic letters. haweis mentions seeing the initials j.r. ("john ruskin") in the deep sill of the staircase window; underneath a slight design of a rose window apparently sketched with the point of a compass. ruskin loved the malines cathedral well, and made many sketches of detail while there. i looked carefully for these initials, but i could not find them, i am sorry to say. bells have been strangely neglected by antiquaries and historians, and but few facts concerning them are to be found in the libraries. haweis speaks of the difficulty he encountered in finding data about the chimes of the low countries, alleging that the published accounts and rumors about their size, weight, and age are seldom accurate or reliable. even in the great libraries and archives of the netherlands at louvain, bruges, or brussels the librarians were unable to furnish him with accurate information. he says: "the great folios of louvain, antwerp, and mechlin (malines) containing what is generally supposed to be an exhaustive transcript of all the monumental and funereal inscriptions in belgium, will often bestow but a couple of dates and one inscription upon a richly decorated and inscribed carillon of thirty or forty bells. the reason of this is not far to seek. the fact is, it is no easy matter to get at the bells when once they are hung, and many an antiquarian who will haunt tombs and pore over illegible brasses with commendable patience will decline to risk his neck in the most interesting of belfries. the pursuit, too, is often a disappointing one. perhaps it is possible to get half way around a bell and then be prevented by a thick beam, or the bell's own wheel from seeing the outer half, which, by perverse chance, generally contains the date and the name of the founder. "perhaps the oldest bell is quite inaccessible, or, after a half hour's climbing amid the utmost dust and difficulty, we reach a perfectly blank or commonplace bell." he gives the date of 1620, as that when the family of van den gheyns were bringing the art of bell founding to perfection in louvain, and notes that the tower and bells of each fortified town were half civic property. thus the curfew, the carolus, and the st. mary bells in antwerp cathedral belong to the town. "let us," he says, "enter the town of mechlin (malines) in the year 1638. the old wooden bridge (over the river dyle) has since been replaced by a stone one. to this day the elaborately carved façades of the old houses close on the water are of incomparable richness of design. the peculiar ascent of steps leading up to the angle of the roof, in a style borrowed from the spaniards, is a style everywhere to be met with. the noblest of square florid gothic towers, the tower of st. rombauld (variously spelled st. rombaud, st. rombaut, or st. rombod) finished up to three hundred and forty-eight feet, guides us to what is now called the grand' place, where in an obscure building are the workshops and furnaces adjoining the abode of peter van den gheyn, the most renowned bell founder of the seventeenth century, born in 1605. in company with his associate, deklerk, arrangements are being made for the founding of a big bell. "before the cast was made there was no doubt great controversy between the mighty smiths, deklerk and van den gheyn: plans had to be drawn out on parchment, measurements and calculations made, little proportions weighed by fine instinct, and the defects and merits of ever so many bells canvassed. the ordinary measurements, which now hold good for a large bell, are, roughly, one-fifteenth of the diameter in thickness, and twelve times the thickness in height. describing the foundry buildings: the first is for the furnaces, containing the vast caldron for the fusing of the metal; in the second is a kind of shallow well, where the bell would have to be modeled in clay. "the object to be first attained is a hollow mold of the exact size and shape of the intended bell, into which the liquid metal is poured through a tube from the furnace, and this mold is constructed in the following simple but ingenious manner: "suppose the bell to be six feet high, a brick column of about that height is built something in the shape of the outside of a bell. upon the smooth surface of this solid bell-shaped mass can now be laid figures, decorations, and inscriptions in wax; a large quantity of the most delicately prepared clay is then produced, the model is slightly washed with some kind of oil to prevent the fine clay from sticking to it, and three or four coats of the fine clay in an almost liquid state are daubed carefully all over the model. next, a coating of common clay is added to strengthen the mold to the thickness of some inches. and thus the model stands with its great bell-shaped cover closely fitting over it. "a fire is now lighted underneath, the brick work in the interior is heated, through the clay, through the wax ornaments and oils, which steam out in vapor through two holes at the top, leaving their impressions on the inside of the cover (of clay). [illustration: the belfry: bergues] "when everything is baked thoroughly hard, the cover is raised bodily into the air by a rope, and held suspended some feet exactly above the model. in the interior of the cover thus raised will, of course, be found the exact impression in hollow of the outside of the bell. the model of clay and masonry is then broken up, and its place is taken by another perfectly smooth model, only smaller--exactly the size of the inside of the bell, in fact. on this the great cover now descends, and is stopped in time to leave a hollow space between the new model and itself. this is effected simply by the bottom rim of the new model forming a base, at the proper distance upon which the rim of the clay cover may rest in its descent. "the hollow space between the clay cover and second clay mold is now the exact shape of the required bell, and only waits to be filled with metal. "so far all has been comparatively easy; but the critical moment has now arrived. the furnaces have long been smoking; the brick work containing the caldron is almost glowing with red heat; a vast draft passage underneath the floor keeps the fire rapid; from time to time it leaps up with a hundred angry tongues, or in one sheet of flame, over the furnace-imbedded caldron. then the cunning artificer brings forth his heaps of choice metal, large cakes of red coruscated copper from drontheim, called 'rosette,' owing to a certain rare pink bloom that seems to lie all over it like the purple on a plum; then a quantity of tin, so highly refined that it shines and glistens like pure silver; these are thrown into the caldron and melted down together. kings and nobles have stood beside those famous caldrons, and looked with reverence upon the making of these old bells. nay, they have brought gold and silver and, pronouncing the name of some holy saint or apostle which the bell was thereafter to bear, they have flung in precious metals, rings, bracelets, and even bullion. "but for a moment or two before the pipe which is to convey the metal to the mold is opened, the smith stands and stirs the molten mass to see if all is melted. then he casts in certain proportions of zinc and other metals which belong to the secrets of the trade; he knows how much depends upon these little refinements, which he has acquired by experience, and which perhaps he could not impart even if he would, so true is it that in every art that which constitutes success is a matter of instinct, and not of rule, or even science. "he knows, too, that almost everything depends upon the moment chosen for flooding the mold. standing in the intense heat, and calling loudly for a still more raging fire, he stirs the metal once more. at a given signal the pipe is opened, and with a long smothered rush the molten metal fills the mold to the brim. nothing now remains but to let the metal cool, and then to break up the clay and brick work and extract the bell, which is then finished for better or for worse." we learn much of the difficulties encountered even by these great masters in successfully casting the bells, and that even they were not exempt from failure. "the great salvator" bell at malines, made by peter van den gheyn, cracked eight years after it was hung in the tower (1696). it was recast by de haze of antwerp, and existed up to a few years ago--surely a good long life for any active bell. in the belfry of st. peter's at louvain, which is now in ruins and level with the street, was a great bell of splendid tone, bearing the following inscription: "claes noorden johan albert de grave me fecerunt amstel--odamia, mdccxiv." haweis mentions also the names of bartholomews goethale, 1680, who made a bell now in st. stephen's belfry at ghent; and another, andrew steilert, 1563, at malines (mechlin). the great carillon in the belfry at bruges, thus far spared by the iconoclasts of 1914, consisting of forty bells and one large bourdon, or triumphal bell, is from the foundry of the great dumery, who also made the carillon at antwerp. haweis credits petrus hemony, 1658, with being the most prolific of all the bell founders. he was a good musician and took to bell founding only late in life. "his small bells are exceedingly fine, but his larger ones are seldom true." to the ear of so eminent an authority this may be true, but, to my own, the bells seem quite perfect, and i have repeatedly and most attentively listened to them from below in the grand' place, trying to discover the inharmonious note that troubled him. i ventured to ask one of the priests if he had noticed any flatness in the notes, and he scorned the idea, saying that the bells, "all of them," were perfect. nevertheless, i must accept the statement of haweis, who for years made a study of these bells and their individualities and than whom perhaps never has lived a more eminent authority. from my room in the small hotel de buda, just beneath the old gray tower of st. rombauld in this ancient town of malines, i have listened by day and night to the music of these bells, which sounded so exquisite to me that i can still recall them. the poet has beautifully expressed the idea of the bell music of flanders thus, "the wind that sweeps over her campagnas and fertile levels is full of broken melodious whispers" (haweis). certainly these chimes of bells playing thus by day and night, day in, day out, year after year, must exercise a most potent influence upon the imagination and life of the people. the flemish peasant is born, grows up, lives his life out, and finally is laid away to the music of these ancient bells. [illustration: the old porte marechale: bruges] when i came away from malines and reached antwerp, i lodged in the place verte, as near to the chimes as i could get. my student days being over, i found that i had a strange sense of loss, as if i had lost a dear and valued friend, for the sound of the bells had become really a part of my daily existence. victor hugo, who traveled through flanders in 1837, stopped for a time in malines, and was so impressed with the carillon that he is said to have written there the following lines by moonlight with a diamond upon the window-pane in his room: "j'aime le carillon dans tes cités antiques, o vieux pays, gardien de tes moeurs domestiques, noble flandre, où le nord se réchauffe engourdi au soleil de castille et s'accouple au midi. le carillon, c'est l'heure inattendue et folle que l'oeil croit voir, vêtue en danseuse espagnole apparaître soudain par le trou vif et clair que ferait, en s'ouvrant, une porte de l'air." it was not until the seventeenth century that flanders began to place these wondrous collections of bells in her great towers, which seem to have been built for them. thus came the carillons of malines, bruges, ghent, antwerp, louvain, and tournai. of these, antwerp possessed the greatest in number, sixty-five bells. malines came next with forty-four, then bruges with forty, and a great bourdon or bass bell; then tournai and louvain with forty, and finally ghent with thirty-nine. in ancient times these carillons were played by hand on a keyboard, called a _clavecin_. in the belfry at bruges, in a dusty old chamber with a leaden floor, i found a very old _clavecin_. it was simply a rude keyboard much like that of a primitive kind of organ, presenting a number of jutting handles, something like rolling pins, each of which was attached to a wire operating the hammer, in the bell chamber overhead, which strikes the rim of the bells. there was an old red, leather-covered bench before this machine on which the performer sat, and it must have been a task requiring considerable strength and agility so to smite each of these pins with his gloved fist, his knees and each of his feet (on the foot board) that the hammers above would fall on the rims of the different bells. from my room in the old "panier d'or" in the market-place on many nights have i watched the tower against the dim sky, and seen the light of the "_veilleur_," shining in the topmost window, where he keeps watch over the sleeping town, and sounds two strokes upon a small bell after each quarter is struck, to show that he is on watch. and so passed the time in this peaceful land until that fatal day in august, 1914. dixmude dixmude there is no longer a grand' place at dixmude. of the town, the great squat church of st. martin, and the quaint town hall adjoining it, now not one stone remains upon another. the old mossy walls and bastion are level with the soil, and even the course of the small sluggishly flowing river yser is changed by the ruin that chokes it. i found it to be a melancholy, faded-out kind of place in 1910, when i last saw it. i came down from antwerp especially to see old st. martin's, which enshrined a most wondrous _jube_, or altar screen, and a chime of bells from the workshop of the van den gheyns. there was likewise on the grand' place, a fine old prison of the fourteenth century, its windows all closed with rusty iron bars, most of which were loose in the stones. i tried them, to the manifest indignation of the solitary gendarme, who saw me from a distance across the grand' place and hurried over to place me under arrest. i had to show him not only my passport but my letter of credit and my sketch book before he would believe that i was what i claimed to be, a curious american, and something of an antiquary. but it was the sketch book that won him, for he told me that he had a son studying painting in antwerp at the academy. so we smoked together on a bench over the bridge of the "pape gaei" and he related the story of his life, while i made a sketch of the silent, grass-grown grand' place and the squat tower of old st. martin's, and the town hall beside it. while we sat there on the bench only two people crossed the square, that same square that witnessed the entry of charles the fifth amid the silk-and velvet-clad nobles and burghers, and the members of the great and powerful guilds, which he regarded and treated with such respect. in those days the town had a population of thirty thousand or more. on this day my friend the gendarme told me that there were about eleven hundred in the town. of this eleven hundred i saw twelve market people, the _custode_ of the church of st. martin; ditto that of the town hall; the gendarme; one baby in the arms of a crippled girl, and two gaunt cats. the great docks to which merchantmen from all parts of the earth came in ships in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries had now vanished, and long green grass waved in the meadows where the channel had been. [illustration: the ancient place: dixmude] the ancient corporations and brotherhood, formerly of such power and renown, had likewise long since vanished, and nought remained but here and there on the silent, grass-grown streets gray, ancient palaces with barred and shuttered windows. the very names of those who once dwelt there could be found only in the musty archives in bruges or brussels. a small _estaminet_ across the bridge bore the sign "in den pape gaei," and to this i fared and wrote my notes, while the crippled girl carrying the baby seated herself where she could watch me, and then lapsed into a sort of trance, with wide open eyes which evidently saw not. in company with a large, black, savage-looking dog which traveled side-ways regarding me threateningly, i thought, and gloweringly refused my offers of friendship, i crossed the grand' place to the hôtel de ville, or town hall, the door of which stood open. inside, no living soul responded to my knock. the rooms were rather bare of furniture, many of them of noble proportions, and a few desks and chairs showed that they were used by the town officers, wherever they were. st. martin's was closed, and i skirted its walls, hoping to find somewhere a door unfastened that i might enter and see the great _jube_ or altar screen. in a small, evil-smelling alley-way, where there was a patch of green grass, i saw low down in the wall a grated window, which i fancied must be at the back of the altar. i got down on my knees and, parting the grass which grew there rankly, i put my face in against the iron bars that closed it. for a moment i could see nothing, then when my eyes became accustomed to the light i saw a tall candle burning on an iron ring on the wall; then a heavy black cross beside it, and finally a figure in some sort of heavy dark robe kneeling prostrate before it, only the tightly clasped white hands gleaming in the dim candle light; almost holding my breath i withdrew my head, feeling that i was almost committing sacrilege. unfortunately for me, i dislodged some loose mortar, and i heard this rattle noisily into the chamber below. then i fled as rapidly as i could down the dim alley-way to the silent sunlit grand' place. here i found the verger, and he admitted me to the great old church, in return for a one-franc piece, and brought me a rush-bottom chair to a choice spot before the wondrous _jube_, where i made my drawing. [illustration: the great jube, or altar screen: dixmude] in the silence of the great gray old church i labored over the exquisite gothic detail, all unmindful of the passing time, when all at once i became conscious that a small green door beside the right hand low _retable_ was moving outward. i ceased working and watched it; then the solitary candle before the statue of the virgin guttered and flared up; then the small door opened wide and forth came an old man in a priest's cassock, with a staff in his hand. the small, green, baize-covered door closed noiselessly; the old man slowly opened the gate before the altar and came down the step toward me. without a word he walked behind my chair and peered over my shoulder at the drawing i was making of the great _jube_. he tapped the floor with his staff, placed it under his arm, sought his pocket somewhere beneath his cassock, from which he produced a snuff box. from this he took a generous pinch, and a moment later was blowing vigorously that note of satisfaction that only a devotee of the powder can render an effective adjunct of emotion. "bien faite, m'sieur," he exclaimed at length, wiping his eyes on a rather suspicious looking handkerchief. "t-r-r-r-r-es bien faite! j'vous fais mes compliments." "admirable! you have certainly rendered the spirit of our great and wondrous altar screen." a little later we passed out of the old church through a side door leading into a small green enclosure, now gloomy in the shade of the old stone walls. at one end was a tangle of briar, and here were some old graves, each with a tinsel wreath or two on the iron cross. and presiding over these was the limp figure of a one-legged man on two crutches, who saluted us. we passed along to the end of the inclosure, where lay a chance beam of sunshine like a bar of dusty gold against the rich green grass. "oui, m'sieur," said the priest, as if continuing a sentence he was running over in his mind. "cassé! pauvre pierre, un peu cassé, le pauvre bonhomme, but then, he's good for several years yet; cracked he is, but only cracked like a good old basin, and (in the idiom) he'll still hold well his bowl of soup." he laughed at his wit, became grave, then shook out another laugh. "see," he added, pointing to the ground all about us strewn with morsels of tile; "the roof cracks, but it still holds," he added, pointing upwards at the old tower of st. martin's. "and now, m'sieur, i shall take you to my house; _tenez_, figure to yourself," and he laid a fine, richly veined, strong old hand upon my arm with a charming gesture. "i have been here twenty-five years; i bought all the antique furniture of my predecessor. i said to myself, 'yes, i shall buy the furniture for five hundred francs, and then, later i shall sell to a wealthy amateur for one thousand francs, perhaps in a year or two.' twenty-five years ago, and i have it yet. and now it creaks and creaks and snaps in the night. we all creak and creak thus as we grow old; ah, you should hear my wardrobes. 'elles cassent les dos,' and i lie in my warm bed in the winter nights and listen to my antiques groan and complain. poor old things, they belonged to the 'empire' period; no wonder they groan. [illustration: the fish market: dixmude] "and when my friend the notaire comes to play chess with me, you should see him eye my antiques, ah, so covetously; i see him, but i never let on. such a collection of antiques as we all are, m'sieur." then he became serious, and lifting his cane he pointed to a gravestone at one side, "my old servant lies there, m'sieur; we are all old here now, but still we do not die. alas! we never die. there is plenty of room here for us, but we die hard. see, myotis, heliotrope, hare bells, and mignonette, a bed of perfume, and there lies my old servant. a restless old soul she was, and she took such a long time to die. she was eighty-five when she finally made up her mind." i had a cup of wine with the old man in his small _salle à manger_. his house was indeed a mine of wealth for the antiquary and collector, more like a shop than a house. i lingered with him for nearly an hour, telling him of the great world lying beyond dixmude, of london and paris, and of new york and some of its wonders, of which i fancied he was rather sceptical. and then i came away, after shaking hands with him at his doorstep in the dim alley-way, with the bar of golden sunlight shining at the entrance to the grand' place and the noise of the rooks cawing on the roof. "_au revoir_, m'sieur le peintre, _et bon voyage_, and remember, 'ask, and it shall be given, seek and you shall find,'" and with these cryptic words, he stood with uplifted hands, a smile irradiating his fine ascetic face glowing like that of a saint. behind the faded black of his old _soutane_ i could see his treasures of blue china and ancient cabinets, and a chance light illumined a mirror behind his head, and aureoled him like unto one of the saints behind the great "jube," and thus i left him. and now dixmude is in formless heaps of ashes and burnt timbers. hardly one stone now remains upon another. there is no longer a grand' place--and the very course of the river yser is changed. ypres ypres ypres as a town grew out of a rude sort of stronghold built, says m. vereeke in his "histoire militaire d'ypres," in the year 900, on a small island in the river yperlee. it was in the shape of a triangle with a tower on each corner, and was known to the inhabitants as the "castle of the three turrets." its establishment was followed by a collection of small huts on the banks of the stream, built by those who craved the protection of the fortress. they built a rampart of earth and a wide ditch to defend it, and to this they added from time to time until the works became so extensive that a town sprang into being, which from its strategic position on the borders of france soon became of great importance in the wars that constantly occurred. probably no other flemish town has seen its defenses so altered and enlarged as ypres has between the primitive days when the crusading thierry d'alsace planted hedges of live thorns to strengthen the towers, and the formation of the great works of vauban. we have been so accustomed to regarding the fleming as a sluggish boor, that it comes in the nature of a surprise when we read of the part these burghers, these weavers and spinners, took in the great events that distinguished flemish history. "in july, 1302, a contingent of twelve hundred chosen men, five hundred of them clothed in scarlet and the rest in black, were set to watch the town and castle of courtrai, and the old roman broël bridge, during the battle of the 'golden spurs,' and the following year saw the celebration of the establishment of the confraternity of the archers of st. sebastian, which still existed in ypres when i was there in 1910. this was the last survivor of the famed, armed societies of archers which flourished in the middle ages. seven hundred of these men of ypres embarked in the flemish ships which so harassed the french fleet in the great naval engagement of june, 1340." forty years later five thousand men of ypres fought upon the battlefield with the french, on that momentous day which witnessed the death of philip van artevelde and the triumph of leliarts. later, when the allies laid siege to the town, defended by leliarts and louis of maele, it was maintained by a force of ten thousand men, and on june 8, 1383, these were joined by seventeen thousand english and twenty thousand flemings, these latter from bruges and ghent. at this time the gateways were the only part of the fortifications built of stone. the ramparts were of earth, planted with thorn bushes and interlaced with beams. outside were additional works of wooden posts and stockades, behind the dyke, which was also palisaded. the english, believing that the town would not strongly resist their numbers, tried to carry it by assault. they were easily repulsed, to their great astonishment, with great losses. at last they built three great wooden towers on wheels filled with soldiers, which they pushed up to the walls, but the valiant garrison swarmed upon these towers, set fire to them, and either killed or captured those who manned them. all the proposals of spencer demanding the surrender of ypres were met with scorn, and the english were repeatedly repulsed with great losses of men whenever they attempted assaults. the english turned upon the flemish of ghent with fury, saying that they had deceived them as to the strength of the garrison of ypres, and spencer, realizing that it was impossible to take the town before the french army arrived, retired from the field with his soldiers. this left flanders at the mercy of the french. but now ensued the death of count louis of maele (1384) and this brought flanders under the rule of the house of burgundy, which resulted in prosperity and well nigh complete independence for the flemings. the great kermesse of our lady of the garden (notre dame de thuine) was then inaugurated because the townspeople believe that ypres had been saved by the intercession of the virgin mary--the word thuin meaning in flemish "an enclosed space, such as a garden plot," an allusion to the barrier of thorns which had so well kept the enemy away from the walls--a sort of predecessor of the barbed-wire entanglements used in the present great world war. the kermesse was held by the people of ypres on the first sunday in august every year, called most affectionately "thuindag," and while there in 1910 i saw the celebration in the great square before the cloth hall, and listened to the ringing of the chimes; the day being ushered in at sunrise by a fanfare of trumpets on the parapet of the tower by the members of a local association, who played ancient patriotic airs with great skill and enthusiasm. in the place de musée, a quiet, gray corner of this old town, was an ancient gothic house containing a really priceless collection of medals and instruments of torture used during the terrible days of the spanish inquisition. i spent long hours in these old musty rooms alone, and i might have stolen away whatever took my fancy had i been so minded, for the _custode_ left me quite alone to wander at will, and the cases containing the seals, parchments, and small objects were all unfastened. i saw the other day another wonderful panorama photograph taken from an aeroplane showing ypres as it now is, a vast heap of ruins, the cloth hall gutted; the cathedral leveled, and the site of the little old museum a vast blackened hole in the earth where a shell had landed. the photograph, taken by an englishman, was dated september, 1915. the great hanseatic league, that extensive system of monopolies, was the cause of great dissatisfaction and many wars because of jealousy and bad feeling. ypres, ghent, and bruges, while defending their rights and privileges against all other towns, fought among themselves. the monopoly enjoyed by the merchant weavers of ypres forbade all weaving for "three leagues around the walls of ypres, under penalty of confiscation of the looms and all of the linen thus woven." constant friction was thus engendered between the towns of ypres and poperinghe, resulting in bloody battles and the burning and destruction of much property. even within the walls of the town this bickering went on from year to year. when they were not quarreling with their neighbors over slights or attacks, either actual or fancied, they fought among themselves over the eternal question of capital _versus_ labor. a sharp line was drawn between the workingman and the members of the guilds who sold his output. the artisans, whose industry contributed so greatly to the prosperity of these towns, resented any infringement of their legal rights. the merchant magistrates were annually elected, and on one occasion, in 1361, to be exact, because this was omitted, the people arose in their might against the governors, who were assembled in the nieuwerck of the hôtel de ville. the baillie, one jean deprysenaere, haughty in his supposed power, and trusting in his office, as local representative of the court of flanders, appeared before the insurgent weavers and endeavored to appease them. "they fell upon him and slew him" (vereeke). then, rushing into the council chamber, they seized the other magistrates and confined them in the belfry of the cloth hall. "then the leaders in council resolved to kill the magistrates, and beheaded the burgomaster and two sheriffs in the place before the cloth hall in the presence of their colleagues" (vereeke). following the custom of the netherlands, each town acted for itself alone. the popular form of government was that of gatherings in the market-place where laws were discussed and made by and for the people. the spirit of commercial jealousy, however, kept them apart and nullified their power. consumed by the thirst for commercial, material prosperity, they had no faith in each other, no bond of union, each being ready and willing to foster its own interest at its rival's expense. thus neither against foreign nor internal difficulties were they really united. the motto of modern belgium, "l'union fait la force," was not yet invented, and there was no great and powerful authority in which they believed and about which they could gather. this history presents the picture of ghent assisting an army of english soldiers to lay siege to ypres. so the distrustful people dwelt amid perpetual quarreling, trade pitted against trade, town against town, fostering weakness of government and shameful submission in defeat. no town suffered as did ypres during this distracted state of affairs in flanders of the sixteenth century, which saw it reduced from a place of first importance to a dead town with the population of a village. and so it remained up to the outbreak of the world war in 1914. this medieval and most picturesque of all the towns of flanders had not felt the effect of the wave of restoration, which took place in belgium during the decade preceding the outbreak of the world war, owing to the fact that its monuments of the past were perhaps finer and in a better state of preservation than those of any of the other ancient towns. ypres in the early days had treated the neighboring town of poperinghe with great severity through jealousy, but she in turn suffered heavily at the hands of ghent in 1383-84 when the vast body of weavers fled, taking refuge in england, and taking with them all hope of the town's future prosperity. its decline thenceforward was rapid, and it never recovered its former place in the councils of flanders. its two great memorials of the olden times were the great cloth hall, in the grand' place, and the cathedral of saint martin, both dating from the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. the cloth hall, begun by count baldwin ix of flanders, was perhaps the best preserved and oldest specimen of its kind in the netherlands, and was practically complete up to the middle of august, 1915, when the great guns of the iconoclastic invader shot away the top of the immense clock tower, and unroofed the entire structure. its façade was nearly five hundred feet long, of most severe and simple lines, and presented a double row of ogival windows, surmounted by niches containing thirty-one finely executed statues of counts and countesses of flanders. there were small, graceful turrets at each end, and a lofty belfry some two hundred and thirty feet in height in the center, containing a fine set of bells connected with the mechanism of a carillon. [illustration: no. 4, rue de dixmude: ypres] the interior of the hall was of noble proportions, running the full length, its walls decorated by a series of paintings by two modern flemish painters, which were not of the highest merit, yet good withal. at the market-place end was a highly ornate structure called the new work (nieuwerke), erected by the burghers as a guild-hall in the fifteenth century. this was the first part of the edifice to be ruined by a german shell. the destruction of this exquisite work of art seems entirely wanton and unnecessary. it produced no result whatever of advantage. there were neither english, french, nor belgian soldiers in ypres at the time. the populace consisted of about ten thousand peaceful peasants and shopkeepers, who, trusting in the fact that the town was unarmed and unfortified, remained in their homes. the town was battered and destroyed, leveled in ashes. the bombardment destroyed also the great cathedral of saint martin adjoining the cloth hall, which dated from the thirteenth century [although the tower was not added until the fifteenth century]. it formed a very fine specimen of late gothic, the interior containing some fine oak carving and a richly carved and decorated organ loft. bishop jansenius, the founder of the sect of jansenists, is buried in a gothic cloister which formed a part of the older church that occupied the site. another interesting monument of past greatness was the hôtel de ville, erected in the sixteenth century, and containing a large collection of modern paintings by french and belgian artists. of this structure not a trace remains save a vast blackened pile of crumbled stones and mortar. in the market-place now roam bands of half-starved dogs in search of food; not a roof remains intact. a couple of sentries pace before the hospital at the end of the grand' place. a recent photograph in the _illustrated london news_ taken from an aeroplane shows the ruined town like a vast honeycomb uncovered, the streets and squares filled with débris, the fragments of upstanding walls showing where a few months ago dwelt in peace and prosperity an innocent, happy people, now scattered to the four winds--paupers, subsisting upon charity. their valiant and noble king and queen are living with the remnant of the belgian army in the small fishing village of la panne on the sand dunes of the north sea. the unique character of the half-forgotten town was exemplified by the number of ancient, wooden-faced houses to be found in the side streets. the most curious of these, perhaps, was that situated near the porte de lille, which i have mentioned in another page, and which noted architects of brussels and antwerp vainly petitioned the state to protect, or to remove bodily the façade and erect it in one of the vast "salles" of the cloth hall. both mm. pauwels and delbeke, the mural painters, then engaged in the decorations of the cloth hall, joined in protests to the authorities against their neglect of this remarkable example of medieval construction, but all these petitions were pigeonholed, and nothing resulted but vain empty promises, so the matter rested, and now this beautiful house has vanished forever. the great mural decorations of the "halles" were nearly completed by mm. delbeke and pauwels, when they both died within a few months of each other, in 1891. in these decorations the artists traced the history of ypres from 1187 to 1383, the date of the great siege, showing taste and elegance in the compositions, notably in that called the "wedding feast of mahaut, daughter of robert of bethune, with mathias of lorraine (1314)." one of the panels by m. pauwels showed most vividly the progress of the "pest," under the title of the "mort d'ypres" (_de dood van yperen_, flemish). it represented the "fossoyeur" calling upon the citizens upon the tolling of the great bell of st. martin's, to bring out their dead for burial. m. delbeke's talent was engaged upon scenes illustrating the civil life of the town, the gatherings in celebration of the philanthropic and intellectual events in its remarkable history, a task in which he was successful in spite of the carping of envious contemporaries. a committee of artists was appointed to examine his work, and although this body decided in his favor, it may be that the criticism to which he was subjected hastened his death. at any rate the panels remained unfinished, no other painter having the courage to carry out the projected work. [illustration: arcade of the cloth hall: ypres] the original sketches for these great compositions were preserved in the museum of the town, but the detailed drawings, some in color, were, up to the outbreak of the war in 1914, in the museum of decorative arts in brussels, together with the cartoons of another artist, charles de groux (1870), to whom the decoration of the halles had been awarded by the state in competition. a most sumptuous gothic apartment was that styled the "salle echevinale," restored with great skill in recent years by a concurrence of flemish artists, members of the academy. upon either side of a magnificent stone mantel, bearing statues in niches of kings, counts and countesses, bishops and high dignitaries, were large well executed frescoes by mm. swerts and guffens, showing figures of the evangelists st. mark and st. john, surrounded by myriads of counts and countesses of flanders, from the time of louis de nevers and margaret of artois to charles the bold, and margaret of york, whose tombs are in the cathedral at bruges. the attribution of these frescoes to melchior broederlam does not, it would seem, accord with the style or the date of their production, m. alph. van den peereboom thinks, and he gives credit for the work to two painters who worked in ypres in 1468--mm. pennant and floris untenhoven. in my search for the curious and picturesque, i came, one showery day, upon a passageway beneath the old belfry which led to the tower of st. martin's. here one might believe himself back in the middle ages. on both sides of the narrow street were ancient wooden-fronted houses not a whit less interesting or well preserved than that front erected in the chamber of the "halles." this small dark street led to a vast and solitary square. on one side were lofty edifices called the colonnade of the "nieuwerck," at the end of which was a quaint vista of the grand' place. on the other side was a range of most wondrous ancient constructions; the _conciergerie_ and its attendant offices, bearing finials and gables of astonishing richness of character, and ornamented with _chefs-d'oeuvres_ of iron-work, marking the dates of erection, all of them prior to 1616. in this square not a soul appeared, nor was there a sound to be heard save the cooing of some doves upon a rooftree, although i sat there upon a stone coping for the better part of a half hour. then all at once, out of a green doorway next the _conciergerie_, poured a throng of children, whose shrill cries and laughter brought me back to the present. one wonders where now are these merry light-hearted little ones, who thronged that gray grass-grown square behind the old cloth hall in 1912.... in this old square i studied the truly magnificent south portal and transept of st. martin's, the triple portal with its splendid polygonal rose window, and its two graceful slender side towers, connecting a long gallery between the two smaller side portals. one's impression of this great edifice is that of a sense of noble proportions, rather than ornateness, and this is to be considered remarkable when one remembers the different epochs of its construction. that the choir was commenced in 1221 is established by the epitaph of hugues, _prévôt_ of st. martin's, whose ashes reposed in the church which he built: that the first stone of the nave transepts was laid with ceremony by marguerite of constantinople in 1254; that the south portal was of the fifteenth century and that a century later the chapel called the _doyen_ toward the south wall at the foot of the tower, was erected. the tower itself, visible from all parts of the town, was the conception of martin untenhoven of malines, and replaced a more primitive one in 1433. of very severe character, its great bare bulk rose to an unfinished height of some hundred and seventy feet, and terminated in a squatty sort of pent-house roof of typical flemish character. it was flanked by four smaller, unfinished towers, one at each corner. this tower, one may recall, figures in many of the pictures of jean van eyck. it is not without reason that schayes, in his "histoire de l'architecture en belgique," speaks of the choir of st. martin's as "one of the most remarkable of the religious constructions of the epoch in belgium." of most noble lines and proportion if it were not for the intruding altar screen in the jesuit style, which mars the effect, the ensemble were well-nigh perfect. its decoration, too, was remarkable. a fresco at the left of the choir, with a portrait of robert de bethune, count of flanders, who died at ypres in 1322 and was buried in the church, was uncovered early in the eighties during a restoration; this had been most villainously repainted by a local "artist"(?); and i mortally offended the young priest who showed it to me, by the vehemence of my comments. the stalls of the choir, in two banks or ranges, twenty-seven above, twenty-four below, bore the date of 1598, and the signature of d'urbain taillebert, a native sculptor of great merit, who also carved the great _jube_ of dixmude (see drawing). other works of taillebert are no less remarkable, notably the superb arcade with the christ triumphant suspended between the columns at the principal entrance. he was also the sculptor of the mausoleum of bishop antoine de hennin, erected in 1622 in the choir. in the pavement before the altar a plain stone marked the resting place of the famous corneille jansen (cornelius jansenius), seventh bishop of ypres, who died of the pest the 6th of may, 1638. one recalls that the doctrine of jansen gave birth to the sect of that name which still flourishes in holland. following the rue de lille one came upon the old tower of st. pierre, massed among tall straight lines of picturesque poplars, its bulk recalling vaguely the belfry of the cloth hall. in this church was shown a curious little picture, representing the devil setting fire to the tower, which was destroyed in 1638, but was later rebuilt after the original plans. the interior had no dignity of style whatever. there were, however, some figures of the saints peter and paul attributed to carel van yper, which merited the examination of connoisseurs. they are believed by experts to have been the "volets" of a triptych of which the center panel was missing. [illustration: gateway, wall, and old moat: ypres] the place st. pierre was picturesque and smiling. following this route we found on the right at the end of a small street the hospital st. jean, with an octagonal tower, which enshrined some pictures attributed to the prolific carel van yper, comment upon which would be perhaps out of place here. on the corner of this street was a most charming old façade in process of demolishment, which we deplored. now we reached the porte de lille again and the remains of the old walls of the town. again and again we followed this same route, each time finding some new beauty or hidden antiquity which well repaid us for such persistence. few of the towns of flanders presented such treasures as were to be found in ypres. following the walk on the ramparts, past the _caserne_ or infantry barracks, one came upon the place of the ancient château of the counts, a vast construction under the name of "de zaalhof." here was an antique building called the "lombard," dated 1616, covered with old iron "ancres" and crosses between the high small-paned windows. by the rue de beurre one regained the grand' place, passing through the silent old place van den peereboom in the center of which was the statue of the old burgomaster of that name. the aspect of this silent grass-grown square behind the cloth hall was most impressive. here thronged the burghers of old, notably on the occasion of the entry of charles the bold and his daughter marguerite, all clad in fur, lace, and velvet to astonish the inhabitants, who instead of being impressed, so outshone the visitors, by their own and their wives' magnificence of apparel, that marguerite was reported to have left the banquet hall in pique. the belfry quite dominated the square at the eastern angle, where were the houses forming the _conciergerie_. turning to the right by way of the chemin de st. martin, one found the ancient beguinage latterly used by the gendarmerie as a station, the lovely old chapel turned into a stable! in this old town were hundreds of remarkable ancient houses, each of which merits description in this book. but perhaps in this brief and very fragmentary description the reader may find reason for the author's enthusiasm, and agree with him that ypres was perhaps the most unique and interesting of all the destroyed towns in flanders. commines commines it was not hard to realize that here we were in the country of bras-de-fer, of memling, of cuyp, and thierry d'alsace, for, on descending from the halting, bumping train at the small brick station, we were face to face with a bizarre, bulbous-topped tower rising above the houses surrounding a small square, and now quite crowded with large, hollow-backed, thick-legged flemish horses, which might have been those of the followers of thierry gathered in preparation for an onslaught upon one of the neighboring towns. it seemed as though any turning might bring us face to face with a grim cohort of mounted armed men in steel corselet and morion, bearing the banner of spanish philip, so sinister were the narrow, ill-paved streets, darkened by the projecting second stories of the somber, gray-stone houses. rarely was there an open door or window. as we passed, our footsteps on the uneven stones awakened the echoes. a fine drizzle of rain which began to fall upon us from the leaden sky did not tend to enliven us, and we hastened toward the small grand' place, where i noted on a sign over a doorway the words, "in de leeuw van vlanderen" (to the flemish lion), which promised at least shelter from the rainfall. here we remained until the sun shone forth. commines (flemish, komen) was formerly a fortified town of some importance in the period of the great wars of flanders. it was the birthplace of philip de commines (1445-1509). it was, so to say, one of the iron hinges upon which the great military defense system of the burghers swung and creaked in those dark days. to-day, in these rich fields about the small town, one can find no traces of the old-time bastions which so well guarded the town from van artevelde's assaults. inside the town were scarcely any trees, an unusual feature for flanders, and on the narrow waterways floated but few craft. the only remarkable thing by virtue of its renaissance style of architecture was the belfry and clock tower, although some of the old flemish dwelling houses in the market square, projecting over an ogival colonnade extending round one end of the square, and covering a sort of footway, were of interest, uplifting their step-like gables as a silent but eloquent protest against a posterity devoid of style, all of them to the right and left falling into line like two wings of stone in order to allow the carved front of the belfry to make a better show, and its pinnacled tower to rise the prouder against the sky. one was struck with the ascendency of the religious element over all forms of art, and this was a characteristic of the flemings. one was everywhere confronted with a curious union of religion and war, representations peopled exclusively by seraphic beings surrounded or accompanied by armed warriors. everything is adoration, resignation, incense fumes, psalmody, and crusaders. the greatest buildings we saw were ecclesiastical, the richest dresses were church vestments, even "the princes and burghers accompanied by armed knights remind one of ecclesiastics celebrating the mass. all the women are holy virgins, seemingly. the chasm between the ideal and the reality itself, however idealized, but by meditation manifested pictorially." ("the land of rubens," c.b. huet). we sat for an hour in the small, sooty, tobacco-smelling _estaminet_ (from the spanish _estamento_--an inn), and then the skies clearing somewhat we fared forth to explore the belfry, which in spite of its sadly neglected state was still applied to civic use. some dark, heavy, oaken beams in the ceiling of the principal room showed delicately carved, fancy heads, some of them evidently portraits. at the rear of the tower on the ground floor, i came upon a vaulted apartment supported on columns, and being used as a storehouse. its construction was so handsome, it was so beautifully lighted from without, as to make one grieve for its desecration; it may have served in the olden time as a refectory, and if so was doubtless the scene of great festivity in the time of philip de commines, who was noted for the magnificence of his entertainments. the flemish burghers of the middle ages first built themselves a church; when that was finished, a great hall. that of ypres took more than two hundred years to complete. how long this great tower of commines took, i can only conjecture. its semi-oriental pear-shaped (or onion-shaped, as you will) tower was certainly of great antiquity; even the unkempt little priest whom i questioned in the grand' place could give me little or no information concerning it. indeed, he seemed to be on the point of resenting my questions, as though he thought that i was in some way poking fun at him. i presume that it was the scene of great splendor in their early days. for here a count of flanders or a duke of brabant exercised sovereign rights, and at such a ceremony as the laying of a corner-stone assumed the place of honor, although the real authority was with the burghers, and founded upon commerce. while granting this privilege, the flemings ever hated autocracy. they loved pomp, but any attempt to exercise power over them infuriated them. [illustration: the belfry: commines] "the architecture of the fleming was the expression of aspiration," says c.b. huet ("the land of rubens"). "the flemish hall has often the form of a church; art history, aiming at classification, ranges it among the gothic by reason of its pointed windows. the hall usually is a defenceless feudal castle without moats, without porticullis, without loopholes. it occupies the center of a market-place. it is a temple of peace, its windows are as numerous as those in the choirs of that consecrated to the worship of god. "from the center of the building uprises an enormous mass, three, four, five stories high, as high as the cathedral, perhaps higher. it is the belfry, the transparent habitation of the alarm bell (as well as the chimes). the belfry cannot defend itself, a military character is foreign to it. but as warden of civic liberty it can, at the approach of domination from without, or autocracy uplifting its head within, awaken the threatened ones, and call them to arms in its own defence. the belfry is thus a symbol of a society expecting happiness from neither a dynasty nor from a military despotism, but solely from common institutions, from commerce and industry, from a citizen's life, budding in the shadow of the peaceful church, and borrowing its peaceful architecture from it. to the town halls of flanders belonged the place of honor among the monuments of belgian architecture. no other country of europe offered so rich a variety in that respect. "courtrai replaces arras; oudenaarde and ypres follow suit. then come tournai, bruges, ghent, antwerp, brussels, louvain. primary gothic, secondary gothic, tertiary gothic, satisfying every wish. flanders and brabant called the communal style into life. if ever europe becomes a commune, the communards have but to go to ypres to find motifs from their architects." since this was written, in 1914, many, if not most, of these great buildings thus enumerated above, are now in ruins, utterly destroyed for all time! bergues bergues a tiny sleepy town among the fringe of great willow trees which marked the site of the ancient walls. belted by its crumbling ramparts, and like a quaint gem set in the green enamel of the smiling landscape, it offered a resting place far from the cares and noise of the world. quite ignored by the guide books, it had, i found, one of the most remarkable belfries to be found in the netherlands, and a chime of sweet bells, whose melodious sounds haunted our memories for days after our last visit in 1910. there were winding, silent streets bordered by mysteriously closed and shuttered houses, but mainly these were small and of the peasant order. on the grand' place, for of course there was one, the tower sprang from a collection of rather shabby buildings, of little or no character, but this did not seem to detract from the magnificence of the great tower. i use the word "great" too often, i fear, but can find no other word in the language to qualify these "campanili" of flanders. this one was embellished with what are known as "ogival arcatures," arranged in zones or ranks, and there were four immense turrets, one at each corner, these being in turn covered with arcatures of the same character. these flanked the large open-work, gilded, clock face. surmounting this upon a platform was a construction in the purely flemish style, containing the chime of bells, and the machinery of the carillon, and topping all was a sort of inverted bulb or gourd-shaped turret, covered with blue slate, with a gilded weathervane about which the rooks flew in clouds. the counterpart of this tower was not to be found anywhere in the netherlands, and one is surprised that it was so little known. [illustration: the towers of st. winoc: bergues] upon the occasion of our visit the town was given up to the heavy and stolid festivities of the "kermesse," which is now of interest here only to the laboring class and the small farmers of the region. the center of attraction, as we found in several other towns, seemed to be an incredibly fat woman emblazoned on a canvas as the "belle heloise" who was seated upon a sort of throne draped in red flannel, and exhibited a pair of extremities resembling in size the masts of a ship, to the great wonder of the peasants. there were also some shabby merry-go-rounds with wheezy organs driven by machinery, and booths in which hard-featured show women were frying waffles in evil smelling grease. after buying some of these for the children who stood about with watering mouths, we left the "kermesse" and wandered away down a silent street towards a smaller tower rising from a belt of dark trees. this we found to be the remains of the ancient abbey of st. winoc. a very civil mannered young priest who overtook us on the road informed us of this, and volunteered further the information that we were in what was undoubtedly the ancient _jardin-clos_ of the abbey. of this retreat only the two towers standing apart in the long grass remained, one very heavy and square, supported by great buttresses of discolored brick, the other octangular, in stages, and retaining its high graceful steeple. we were unable to gain entrance to either of these towers, the doorways being choked with weeds and the débris of fallen masonry. [the invaders destroyed both of these fine historical remains in november, 1914, alleging that they were being used for military observation by the belgian army.] these small towns of flanders had a simple dignity of their own which was of great attraction to the tourist, who could, without disillusionment, imagine himself back in the dim past. in the wayside inns or _estaminets_ one could extract amusement and profit listening to the peasantry or admiring the sunlight dancing upon the array of bottles and glass on the leaden counters, or watch the peasants kneel and cross themselves before the invariable quaint niched figure of the virgin and child under the hanging lighted lantern at a street corner, the evidence of the piety of the village, or the throngs of lace-capped, rosy-cheeked milkmaids with small green carts drawn by large, black, "slobbering" dogs of fierce mien, from the distant farms, on their way to market. thus the everyday life of the region was rendered poetic and artistic, and all with the most charming unconsciousness. nieuport nieuport in the midst of a level field to the east of the town of nieuport in 1914 was a high square weather-beaten tower, somewhat ruinous, built of stone and brick in strata, showing the different eras of construction in the various colors of the brick work ranging from light reds to dark browns and rich blacks. this tower, half built and square topped, belonged to a structure begun in the twelfth century, half monastery, half church, erected by the templars as a stronghold. repeatedly attacked and set on fire, it escaped complete destruction, although nearly laid in ruins by the english and burghers of ghent in 1383, the year of the famous siege of ypres. during the wars of 1600, it was an important part of the fortifications, and from the platform of its tower the spanish garrison commanded a clear view of the surrounding country and the distance beyond the broad moat, which then surrounded the strong walls of nieuport. in plain view from this tower top were the houses of furnes, grouped about the church of saint nicolas to the southwest, while to the north the wide belt of dunes, or sand hills, defended the plains from the north sea. nearer were the populous villages of westende and lombaerd-zyde, connected with nieuport by numerous small lakes and canals derived from the channel of the yser river, which flowed past the town on its way to the sea. [illustration: the tower of the templars: nieuport] the history of nieuport, from the terrible days of the spanish invasion down to these days of even worse fate, has been pitiable. its former sea trade after the spanish invasion was never recovered, and its population, which was beginning to be thrifty and prosperous up to 1914, has now entirely disappeared. nieuport is now in ashes and ruins. when i passed the day there in the summer of 1910, it was a sleepy, quiet spot, a small fishing village, with old men and women sitting in doorways and on the waysides, mending nets, and knitting heavy woolen socks or sweaters of dark blue. in the small harbor were the black hulls of fishing boats tied up to the quaysides, and a small steamer from ghoole was taking on a cargo of potatoes and beets. some barges laden with wood were being pulled through the locks by men harnessed to a long tow rope, and a savage dog on one of these barges menaced me with dripping fangs and bloodshot eyes when i stopped to talk to the steersman, who sat on the tiller smoking a short, evil-smelling pipe, while his "vrouwe" was hanging out a heavy wash of vari-colored garments on a line from the staff on the bow to a sweep fastened upright to the cabin wall. the ancient fortification had long since disappeared--those "impregnable walls of stone" which once defended the town from the assaults of philip the second. i found with some difficulty a few grass-grown mounds where they had been, and only the gray, grim tower of the templars, standing solitary in a turnip field, remained to show what had been a mighty stronghold. in the town, however, were souvenirs enough to occupy an antiquary for years to his content and profit. there was the cloth hall, with its five pointed low arched doorways from which passed in and out the knights of the temple gathered for the first pilgrimage to the holy land. on this market square too was the great gothic church, one of the largest and most important in all flanders, and on this afternoon in the summer of 1910, i attended a service here, while in the tower a bell ringer played the chime of famous bells which now lie in broken fragments amid the ashes of the fallen tower. here was fought the bloody "battle of the dunes," between the dutch and the spaniards in those dim days of long ago, when the stubborn determination of the netherlanders overcame the might and fiery valor of the spanish invaders. from time to time the peasants laboring in the fields uncovered bones, broken steel breast-plates, and weapons, which they brought to the museum on the grand' place, and which the sleepy _custode_ showed me with reluctance, until i offered him a franc. it is curious that famous nieuport, for which so much blood was shed in those early days, should again have been a famous battle ground between the handful of valiant soldiers of the heroic king albert and a mighty teutonic foe. the dim gray town with its silent streets, the one time home of romance and chivalry, the scene of deeds of knightly valor, is now done for forever. it is not likely that it can ever again be of importance, for its harbor is well-nigh closed by drifting sand. but i shall always keep the vision i had of it that summer day, in its market place, its gabled houses against the luminous sky, its winding streets, and narrow byways across which the roofs almost touch each other. the ancient palaces are now in ruins, and the peaceful population scattered abroad, charges upon the charity of the world. certainly a woeful picture in contrast to the content of other days. the vast green plains behind the dunes, or sand hills, extend unbrokenly from here to the french frontier, spire after spire dominating small towns, and windmills, are the objects seen. to some the flatness is most monotonous, but to those who find pleasure in the paintings of cuyp, the country is very picturesque. the almost endless succession of green, well-cultivated fields and farmsteads is most entertaining, and the many canals winding their silvery ways through the country, between rows of pollards; the well kept though small country houses embowered in woody enclosures; the fruitful orchards in splendid cultivation; the gardens filled with fair flowers and the "most compact little towns"--these give the region a romance and attraction all its own. [illustration: the town hall--hall of the knights templars: nieuport] here and there is a hoary church erected in forgotten times on ground dedicated to thor or wodin. this part of the country bordering the fifty mile stretch of coast line on the north sea was given over latterly to the populous bathing establishments and their new communities, but the other localities, such as tournai, courtrai, oudenaarde or alost, were seldom visited by strangers, whose advent created almost as much excitement as it would in timbuctoo. it was not inaccessible, but the roads were not good for automobiles; they were mainly paved with rough "belgian" blocks of stone, high in the center, with a dirt roadway on either side, used by the peasants and quite rutty. a walking tour for any but the hardiest pedestrian was out of the question, so i was told that the best way for a "bachelor" traveler was to secure transportation on the canal boats. this was the warning that our kind hearted landlord in antwerp gave us, after vainly endeavoring to discourage us from leaving him for such a tour. the canals, however, are not numerous enough in this region, i found, and besides there are various other disadvantages which i leave to the reader's imagination. in addition to the main lines of the state railway, there were what are called "chemins-de-fer-vicinaux," small narrow gauge railways which traversed belgium in all directions. on these the fares were very reasonable, and they formed an ideal way in which to study the country and the people. there were first, second and third class carriages on these, hung high on tall wheels, which looked very unsafe, but were not really so. the classes varied only in the trimming of the windows, and quality of the cushions on the benches. rarely if ever, were those marked "i klasse" used. those of the second class were used sometimes; but the third class cars were generally very crowded with peasantry, who while invariably good humored and civil were certainly evil smelling, and intolerant of open windows and fresh air. the men and boys generally smoked a particularly vile-smelling black tobacco, of which they seemed very fond, and although some of the cars were marked "niet rooken" (no smoking) no one seemed to object to the fumes. [illustration: tower of the grand' place: nieuport] here one seldom saw the purely spanish type of face so usual in antwerp and brabant. the race seemed purer, and the peasants used the pure flemish tongue. few of the elders i found spoke french fluently, although the children used it freely to each other, of course understanding and speaking flemish also. there were various newspapers published in the flemish language exclusively. these, however, were very primitive, given over entirely to purely local brevities, and the prices of potatoes, beets and other commodities, and containing also a "feuilleton" of interest to the farmers and laborers. there were several "organs" of the flemish patriotic party devoted to the conservation and preservation of the flemish language and the ancient traditions, which were powerful among the people, although their circulation could not have been very profitable. the peasantry in truth were very ignorant, and knew of very little beyond their own parishes. the educational standard of the people of west flanders was certainly low, and it was a matter of comment among the opponents of the established church, that education being in the hands of the clergy, they invariably defeated plans for making it compulsory. but nevertheless, the peasantry were to all appearances both contented and fairly happy. as their wants were few and primitive, their living was cheap. their fare was coffee, of which they consumed a great deal, black bread, salt pork and potatoes. the use of oleomargarine was universal in place of butter. they grew tobacco in their small gardens for their own use, and also, it is whispered, smuggled it [and gin] over the border into france. they worked hard and long from five in the morning until seven or eight in the evening. the flemish farmhouse was generally well built, if somewhat untidy looking, with the pigstys and out buildings in rather too close proximity for comfort. there was usually a large living room with heavy sooty beams overhead, and thick walls pierced by quaint deeply sunken windows furnished often with seats. these picturesque rooms often contained "good finds" of the old spanish furniture, and brass; but as a rule the dealers had long since bought up all the old things, replacing them by "brummagem,"--modern articles shining with cheap varnish. the peasants themselves in their everyday clothes certainly did not impress the observer greatly. they were not picturesque, they wore the sabôt or "klompen," yellow varnished, and clumsy in shape. their stockings were coarse gray worsted. their short trousers were usually tied with a string above the calf, and they wore a sort of smock, sometimes of linen unbleached, or of a shining sort of dark purple thin stuff. the usual headgear was for the men a cap with a glazed peak and for the women and girls a wide flapped embroidered linen cap, but this headgear was worn only in the country towns and villages. elsewhere the costume was fast disappearing. on sundays when dressed in their holiday clothes these peasants going to or returning from mass, looked respectable and fairly prosperous, and it was certainly clear that although poor in worldly goods, these animated and laughing throngs were far from being unhappy or dissatisfied with life as they found it in west flanders. alost alost the ancient hôtel de ville on the grand' place was unique, not for its great beauty, for it had none, but for its quaintness, in the singular combination of several styles of architecture. without going into any details its attraction was in what might be called its venerable coquettishness,--bizarre, one might have styled it, but that the word conveys some hint of lack of dignity. one is at a loss just how to characterize its attractiveness. against the sky its towers and minarets held one's fancy by their very lightness and airiness, the lanterns and _fleches_ presupposing a like grace and proportion in the edifice below. the great square belfry at one side seemed to shoulder aside the structure with its beautiful renaissance façade and portal and quite dominate it. my note book says that it dated from the fifteenth century, and its appearance certainly bore evidence of this statement. it had been erected in sections at various periods, and these periods were marked in the various courses of brick, showing every variety of tone of dull reds, buffs, and mellow purplish browns. the effect was quite delightful. the tower contained a fine carillon of bells arranged on a rather bizarre platform, giving a most quaint effect to the turret which surmounted it. the face of the tower bore four niches, two at each side of the center and upper windows, and these contained time worn statues of the noble counts of alost. on the wall below was a tablet bearing the inscription "ni espoir, ni craint," and this i was told referred either to the many sieges which the town suffered, or a pestilence which depopulated the whole region. a huge gilt clock face shone below the upper gallery, at each corner of which sprang a stone gargoyle. the old square upon which this tower was placed was quite in keeping with it. there were rows of gabled stone houses of great antiquity, still inhabited, stretching away in an array of façades, gables, and most fantastic roofs, all of mellow toned tile, brick and stone. [illustration: the town hall: alost] thierry moertens, who was a renowned master printer of the netherlands, was born here, and is said to have established in alost the "very first printing house in flanders." from this press issued a translation of the holy bible, which was preserved in the museum of brussels, together with other fine specimens of his skill. a very good statue in bronze to this master printer was in the center of the market place, and on the occasion of my last visit, there was a sort of carnival in the town, with a great gathering of farmers and merchants and their families from the surrounding country all gathered about the square, which was filled with wagons, horses, booths, and merry-go-rounds, above which the statue of the old master printer appeared in great dignity. there was a great consumption of beer and waffles at the small _estaminets_, and the chimes in the belfry played popular songs at intervals to the delight of these simple happy people, all unaware of the great catastrophe of the war into which they were about to be plunged. a disastrous conflagration destroyed most of alost in 1360, and thereafter history deals with the fury of the religious wars conducted by the spanish against alost, a most strongly fortified town. the story of the uniting of these spanish troops under the leadership of juan de navarese is well known. burning and sacking and murder were the sad lot of alost and its unfortunate citizens, who had hardly recovered, ere the duke d'alençon arrived before the walls with his troops, bent upon mischief. the few people remaining after his onslaught died like flies during the plague which broke out the following year, and the town bid fair to vanish forever. rubens painted a large and important picture based upon the destruction of alost, and this work was hanging in the old church of st. martin just before the outbreak of the war in 1914. its fate is problematical, for st. martin's church was razed to the ground in the bombardment in 1914-15, the charge being the usual one that the tower was used for military purposes by the french. this old church with its curious bulbous tower cap was at the end of a small street, and my last view of it was on the occasion of a church fête in which some dignitaries were present, for i saw them all clad in scarlet and purple walking beneath silken canopies attended by priests bearing lighted lanterns (although the sun was shining brightly at the time) and acolytes swinging fragrant smoking censers. we were directed to a rather shabby looking hostelry, over the door of which was an emblazoned coat of arms of flanders, where we were assured we could get "déjeuner" before leaving the town. as usual, a light drizzle came on, and the streets became deserted. the hotel was a wretched one and the meal furnished us was in character with it. we were waited on by a sour, taciturn old man who bore a dirty towel on his arm, as a sort of badge of office, i presume. he nodded or shook his head as the case might demand, but not a word could i extract from him. at the close of our meal, which we dallied over, waiting for the rain to cease, i called for the bill, which was produced after a long wait, and proved to be, as i anticipated, excessive. we had coffee and hot milk and some cold chicken and salad. this repast, for two, came to twelve francs. and as the "chicken" had reached its old age long before, and the period of its roasting must have taken place at an uncertain date, this, together with the fact that the lettuce was wilted, placed these items upon the proscribed list for us. the coffee and hot milk, however, was good and, thus revived and rested, i paid the bill without protest, and having retained the carriage which we hired at the station, i bundled our belongings into it. i had resolved not to tip the surly old fellow, but a gleam in his eye made me hesitate. then i weakened and gave him a franc. to my amazement he said in excellent english: "i thank you, sir; you are a kind, good and patient man, and madam is a most charming and gracious lady. i am sorry your breakfast was so bad, but i can do nothing here; these people are impossible; but it is no fault of mine." and shaking his head he vanished into the doorway of the hotel. driving away, i glanced up at the windows, where behind the curtains i thought i saw several faces watching us furtively. it might be that we had missed an adventure in coming away. had i been alone i should have chanced it, for the old waiter interested me with his sudden confidence and his command of english. but whatever his story might have been, it must ever be to me a closed book. quaint alost among the trees is now a heap of blackened ruins. courtrai courtrai the two large and impressive stone towers flanking a bridge of three arches over the small sluggish river lys were those of the celebrated broël, dating from the fourteenth century. the towers were called respectively the "speytorre" and the "inghelbrugtorre." the first named on the south side of the river formed part of the ancient "enceinte" of the first château of philip of alsace, and was erected in the twelfth century, and famed with the château of lille, as the most formidable strongholds of flanders. the "inghelbrugtorre" was erected in 1411-13, and strongly resembles its sister tower opposite. it was furnished with loopholes for both archers and for "arquebusiers," as well as openings for the discharge of cannon and the casting of molten pitch and lead upon the heads of besiegers after the fashion of warfare as conducted during the wars of the middle ages. the breton soldiers under charles the eleventh attacked and almost razed this great stronghold in 1382. a sleepy old _custode_ whom we aroused took us down into horrible dungeons, where, with a dripping tallow candle, he showed us some iron rings attached to the dripping walls below the surface of the river where prisoners of state were chained in former times, and told us that the walls here were three or four yards thick. the town was one of beauty and great charm, and here we stopped for a week in a most delightfully kept small hotel on the square, which was bordered with fine large trees, both linden and chestnut. the town was famed in history for the great battle of the spurs which took place outside the walls, in the year 1302, on the plains of groveninghe. history mentions the fact that "seven hundred golden spurs were picked up afterwards on the battlefield and hung in the cathedral." these we were unable to locate. the water of the lys, flowing through the town and around the remains of the ancient walls, was put to practical use by the inhabitants in the preparation of flax, for which the town was renowned. [illustration: the belfry: courtrai] it ranked with the old city of bruges in importance up to 1914, when it had some thirty-five thousand inhabitants. in the middle of the beflowered grand' place stood a quaint brick belfry containing a good chime of bells, and on market days when surrounded with the farmers' green wagons and the lines of booths about which the people gathered chaffering, its appearance was picturesque enough to satisfy anyone, even the most blasé of travelers. the belfry had four large gilt clock faces, and its bells could be plainly seen through the windows hanging from the huge beams. on the tower were gilded escutcheons, and a couple of armor-clad statues in niches. there was a fine church dedicated to notre dame, which was commenced by baldwin in 1199, and a very beautiful "counts chapel" with rows of statues of counts and countesses of flanders whose very names were forgotten. here was one of the few remaining "beguinages" of flanders, which we might have overlooked but for the kindness of a passerby who, seeing that we were strangers, pointed out the doorway to us. on either hand were small houses through the windows of which one could see old women sitting bowed over cushions rapidly moving the bobbins over the lace patterns. a heavy black door gave access to the beguinage, a tiny retreat, _noyé de silence_, inaugurated, tradition says, in 1238, by jean de constantinople, who gave it as a refuge for the sisters of st. bogga. and here about a small grass grown square in which was a statue of the saint, dwelt a number of self-sacrificing women, bound by no vow, who had consecrated their lives to the care of the sick and needy. we spent an hour in this calm and fragrant retreat, where there was no noise save the sweet tolling of the convent bell, and the cooing of pigeons on the ridge pole of the chapel. in the square before the small station was a statue, which after questioning a number of people without result, i at length found to be that of jean palfyn who, my informant assured me, was the inventor of the forceps, and expressed surprise that i should be so interested in statuary as to care "who it was." he asked me if i was not english and when i answered that i was an american, looked somewhat dazed, much as if i had said "new zealander" or "kamschatkan," and was about to ask me some further question, but upon consideration thought better of it, and turned away shrugging his shoulders. to show how well the river lys is loved by the people, i quote here a sort of prose poem by a local poet, one adolph verriest. it is called "het leielied." "la lys flows over the level fields of our beautiful country, its fecund waters reflecting the blue of our wondrous flemish landscape. active and diligent servant, it seems to work ever to our advantage, multiplying in its charming sinuosities its power for contributing to our prosperity, accomplishing our tasks, and granting our needs. it gives to our lives ammunition and power. the noise of busy mills and the movement of bodies of workmen in its banks is sweet music in our ears, in tune to the rippling of its waters. "a silver ribbon starred with the blue corn-flower, the supple textile baptised in its soft waters is transformed by the hand of man into cloudy lace, into snowy linen, into fabrics of filmy lightness for my lady's wear, la lys, name significant and fraught with poetry for us--giving life to the germ of the flax which it conserves through all its life better than any art of the chemist in the secret chambers of his laboratory. "thanks to this gracious river, our lovely town excels in napery and is known throughout all the world. in harvest time the banks of the lys are thronged with movement, the harvesters in quaint costumes, their bodies moving rhythmically to the words of the songs they sing, swinging the heavy bundles of flax from the banks to the level platforms, where it is allowed to sleep in the water, and later the heavy wagons are loaded to the cadence of other songs appropriate to the work. large picturesque colored windmills wave their brown velvety hued sails against the piled up masses of cloud, and over all is intense color, life and movement. "the river plays then a most important part in the life on the flemish plains about courtrai, giving their daily bread to the peasants, and lending poetry to their existence. so, o lys, our beautiful benefactor, we love you." at this writing (march, 1916) courtrai is still occupied by the troops of the german kaiser, and with the exception of the destruction of the broël towers, the church of st. martin, and the old belfry in the market place, the town is said to be "intact." whenever possible we traveled through the flemish littoral on the small steam trams, "chemins-de-fer-vicinaux," as they are called in french, in the flemish tongue "stoomtram," passing through fertile green meadows dotted with fat, sleek, black and white cows, and embossed with shining silvery waterways connecting the towns and villages. we noticed englishy cottages of white stucco and red tiled roofs, amid well kept fields and market gardens in which both men and women seemed to toil from dawn to dewy evening. flanders before the war was simply covered with these light railways. the little trains of black carriages drawn by puffing covered motors, discharging heavy black clouds of evil-smelling smoke and oily soot, rushed over the country from morning until night, and the clanging of the motorman's bell seemed never ending. [illustration: the broël towers: courtrai] to see the country thus was a privilege, and was most interesting, for one had to wait in the squares of the small towns, or at other central places until the corresponding motor arrived before the journey could proceed. here there was a sort of exchange established where the farmers compared notes as to the rise or fall in commodities, or perchance the duty upon beets and potatoes. loud and vehement was the talk upon these matters; really, did one not know the language, one might have fancied that a riot was imminent. one morning we halted at a small village called gheluwe, where the train stopped beside a white-washed wall, and everyone got out, as the custom is. there seemed no reason for stopping here, for we were at some distance from the village, the spire of which could be seen above a belt of heavy trees ahead. the morning was somewhat chilly, and the only other occupant of the compartment was a young cleric with a soiled white necktie. he puffed away comfortably at a very thin, long, and evil-smelling "stogie" which he seemed to enjoy immensely, and which in the flemish manner he seemed to eat as he smoked, eyeing us the while amicably though absent mindedly, as if we were far removed from his vicinity. as we neared the stopping place, two very jolly young farmer boys raced with the train in their quaint barrow-like wagon painted a bright green, and drawn by a pair of large dogs who foamed and panted past us "ventre à terre," with red jaws and flopping tongues. had we not known of this breed of dogs we might have fancied, as many strangers do, that flemish dogs are badly treated, but this is not the case. these dogs are very valuable, worth sometimes as much as five hundred francs (about $100). inspections of these dogs are held regularly by the authorities. the straps and the arrangement of the girths are tested lest they should chafe the animal, and, i am told, the law now requires that a piece of carpet be carried for the animal to lie upon when resting, and a drinking bowl also has been added to the equipment of each cart. the dogs do not suffer. they are bred for the cart, and are called "_chiens de traite_," so that the charge of cruelty upon the part of ignorant tourists may be dismissed as untrue. there is a society for the prevention of cruelty to animals, and it is not unusual to see its sign displayed in the market places, with the caution "_traitez les animaux avec douceur_." rarely if ever is a case brought into court by the watchful police. the young cleric gazed at us inquiringly, as if he expected to hear us exclaim about the cruelty to animals, but catching his eye i smiled, and said something about "_ces bons chiens_," at which he seemed relieved, and nodded back grinning, but he did not remove the stogie from his mouth. priests in flanders seemed to enjoy much liberty of action, and do things not possible elsewhere. for instance, at blankenberghe, a fashionable watering place on the coast, i saw a prosperous, well-fed one (if i may so characterize him without meaning any offense) dining at the great gasthof on the digue, who after finishing his _filet aux champignons_, with a bottle of _baune superior_, ordered his "_demi tasse_" with _fine champagne_, and an havana cigar which cost him not less than three francs (sixty cents) which he smoked like a connoisseur while he listened to the fine military band playing in the kiosk. and why not, if you please? we remained for nearly twenty minutes beside this white wall at the roadside, the animated discussions of the farmers continuing, for the group was constantly augmented by fresh arrivals who meant to travel with us or back to the town from which we had come. it was here that we saw the first stork in flanders, where indeed they are uncommon. this one had a nest in a large tree nearby. one of the boys shied a small stone at him as he flapped overhead, but, i think, without any idea of hitting him. the peasants assembled here eyed us narrowly. they probed me and my belongings with eyes of corkscrew penetration, but since this country of theirs was a show place to me, i argued that i had no right to object to their making in return a show of me. but such scrutiny is not comfortable, especially if one is seated in a narrow compartment, and the open-mouthed _vis à vis_ gazes at one with steely bluish green unwinking eyes--somewhat red rimmed. especially if such scrutiny is accompanied by free comments upon one's person, delivered in a voice so pitched as to convey the information to all the other occupants, and mayhap the engine driver ahead. the other train at length arrived, there was an interchange of occupants and then we proceeded amid heavy clouds of thick black smoke which, for a time, the wind blew with us. across the tilled fields are narrow paths leading to dykes and roads. there are many green ditches filled with water and in them we could see rather heavy splashes from time to time. these we discovered were made by large green bull frogs--really monsters they were, too. of course we were below the sea level here, but one cannot credit the old story about the boy who plugged the dyke with his thumb, thereby saving the whole country. the dykes are many feet high and as the foundation is composed of heavy black stones, then layers of great red bricks and tiles, and finally turf and large willow branches interlaced most cunningly like giant basket work, such a story is impossible. my _vis à vis_, all the while regarding me unwinkingly, overheard me speak to a--, in english. then he slowly took the stogie from his mouth and ejaculated, "_ach--engelsch!--do it well met you?_" i replied that it certainly did. "_and met madame?_" i nodded. "_alst' u blieft mynheer--sir,_" he said. then he changed his seat and thereafter related to the others that he had conversed with the strangers, who were english, and were traveling for pleasure, being _enormously rich_. i think thereafter he enjoyed the reputation of being an accomplished linguist. so, pleasantly did we amble along the narrow little steam tramway through luxurious green fields and smiling fertile landscape of the flemish littoral in our well rewarded search for the quaint and the unusual. the gothic town hall, a remarkable construction on the grand' place, and erected 1526, has been restored with a great amount of good taste in recent years, and the statues on its façade have been replaced with such skill that one is not conscious of modern work. the great hall of the magistrates on the ground floor, with its magnificent furniture, and the admirable modern mural paintings by the flemish artists guffens and severts (1875) was worth a journey to see. the most noteworthy of these paintings represented the "departure of baldwin ix," count of flanders, at the beginning of the fourth crusade in 1202, and the "consultation of the flemish, before the great battle of the spurs" in 1302. in this chamber is a remarkable renaissance mantelpiece, which is embellished with the arms of the allied towns of bruges and ghent, between which are the standard bearers of the doughty knights of courtrai, and two statues of the archduke albert and his lady, all surrounding a statue of the holy virgin. on the upper floor is the council chamber, in which is another mantelpiece hardly less ornate and interesting, and executed in what may be called the "flamboyant" manner in rich polychrome. it is dated 1527 and was designed by (one of the) keldermans (?). it has rows or ranges of statuary said to represent both the vices and the virtues. below are reliefs indicating the terrible punishment inflicted upon those who transgress. statues of charles v, the infanta isabella, and others are on _corbels_. very large drawn maps of the ancient town and its dependencies cover the walls, and these are dated 1641.[1] termonde (dendermonde) termonde (dendermonde) a strange half deserted little town on the right bank of the river scheldt, clustered about a bridge, on both sides of a small sluggish stream called the "dendre," where long lines of women were washing clothes the live-long day, and chattering like magpies the while. a grand' place, with heavy trees at one side, and on the other many small _estaminets_ and drinking shops. that was termonde. my note book says "population 10,000, town fortified; forbidden to make sketches outside the walls, which are fortifications. two good pictures in old church of notre dame, by van dyck, 'crucifixion' and an 'adoration of the shepherds' (1635). fine hôtel de ville, with five gables and sculptured decoration. also belfry of the fourteenth century." termonde is famed throughout flanders as the birthplace of the "four sons of aymon," and the exploits of the great horse bayard. the legend of the four sons of aymon is endeared to the people, and they never tire of relating the story in song as well as prose. indeed this legend is perhaps the best preserved of all throughout flanders. it dates from the time of charlemagne, the chief of the great leaders of western europe, whose difficulty in governing and keeping in subjection and order his warlike and turbulent underlords and vassals is a matter of history known to almost every schoolboy. among these vassal lordlings, whose continued raids and grinding exactions caused him most anxious moments, was a certain duke (herzog) called aymon, who had four sons, named renault, allard, guichard, and ricard, all of most enormous stature and prodigious strength. of these renault was the tallest, the strongest, the most agile, and the most cunning. in height he measured what would correspond to sixteen feet, "and he could span a man's waist with his hand, and lifting him in the air, squeeze him to death." this was one of his favorite tricks with the enemy in battle. aymon had a brother named buves who dwelt in aigremont, which is near huy, and one may still see there the castle of aymon, who was also called the wild boar of the ardennes. this brother buves in a fit of anger against charlemagne for some fancied slight, sent an insulting message to the latter, refusing his command to accompany him on his expedition against the saracens, which so exasperated charlemagne that he sent one of his sons to remonstrate with buves and if need be, to threaten him with vengeance, in case he persisted in refusing. buves was ready, and without waiting to receive his message, he met the messenger half way and promptly murdered him. then charlemagne, in a fury, sent a large and powerful body of men to punish buves, who was killed in the battle which took place at aigremont. thereupon the four sons of aymon met and over their swords swore vengeance against charlemagne, and betook themselves to the fastnesses of the ardennes, in which they built for themselves the great castle of montfort which is said to have been even stronger than that called aigremont. on the banks of the river ourthe may still be seen the great gray bulk of its ruins. about this stronghold they constructed high walls, and there they sent out challenges defying the great emperor. now each of the four sons had his own fashion of fighting. renault fought best on horseback, and to him maugis son of buves brought a great horse named bayard ("beiaard" in flemish) of magic origin, possessed of demoniac powers, among which was the ability to run like the wind and never grow weary. here in this stronghold the four sons of aymon dwelt, making occasional sallies against the vassals of charlemagne, until at length the emperor gathered a mighty force of soldiers and horses and engines and scaling ladders, and, surrounding the stronghold, at length succeeded in capturing it. tradition says that among charlemagne's retinue was aymon himself, and intimates that it was by the father's treachery that the four mighty sons were almost captured, but at any rate the great castle of montfort was reduced to ashes and ruin, and only the fact of renault's taking the other brothers on the back of the wondrous horse bayard saved them all from the emperor's fury. so they escaped into gascony, where they independently attacked the saracens and drove them forth and extended their swords to the king of gascony, yon, who treacherously delivered them in chains over to charlemagne. these chains they broke and threw in the emperor's face, fighting their way to freedom with their bare hands. history thereafter is silent as to their end. of renault it is known only that he became a friar at cologne, where his skill and strength were utilized by the authorities in building the walls, and that one day while at work, some masons whom he had offended crept up behind him and pushed him off a great height into the river rhine, and thus he was drowned. years afterward the church canonized him, and in westphalia at dortmund may be seen a monument erected in his memory extolling his prowess, his deeds, and his strength. as to the great and magical horse bayard, the chronicle says that, captured finally by charlemagne's soldiers and brought before him, the emperor deliberated what he should do with it, since it refused to be ridden. finally he ordered that the largest mill stone in the region should be made fast to its neck by heavy chains, and that it should then be cast into the river meuse. bayard contemptuously shook off the heavy stone and with steam pouring from his nostrils, gave three neighs of derision and triumph and, climbing the opposite bank, vanished into the gloom of the forest where none dared follow. of the immortality of this great horse history is emphatic and gravely states that, for all that is known to the contrary, he may still be at large in the ardennes, but that "no man has since beheld him." and now yearly on the grand' place at termonde there is a great festival and procession in his honor depicting the chief incidents of his life and mighty deeds, while, at dinaut, on the river meuse, the scene of some of his mightiest deeds, may still be seen the great rock bayard, standing more than forty yards high and separated from the face of the mountain by a roadway cut by louis the sixteenth, who cared little for legends. from the summit of this great needle of rock sprang the horse bayard, flying before the forces of charlemagne with the four brothers on his back, and, so tradition says, "leaped across the river, disappearing in the woods on the further bank." [illustration: the museum: termonde] we were fortunate in being at termonde on the occasion of this picturesque festival. songs of bayard and his prowess were sung in the streets by various musical societies, each of which carried huge banners bearing their titles and honors, and some curious frameworks on poles which were literally covered with medals and wreaths bestowed upon the societies by the town at various times. these were borne proudly through the streets, and each society had its crowd of partisans and loud admirers. had it not been so picturesque and strange, it would have seemed childish and pathetic, but the people were so evidently in earnest and seemed to enjoy it so hugely that the chance stranger could not but enter into the spirit of it all with them. this we did and wisely. there was much drinking of a thin sour beer called "faro," which is very popular with the peasants, and the various societies sang themselves hoarse, to the delight of all, including themselves. the horse bayard, as seen in the market place, was a great wicker affair hung in wondrous chain armor, and the four sons of aymon, also of wickerwork, and likewise clad in armor, each bearing a huge sword, sat upon his back and were trundled through the streets. there were also booths in which the inevitable and odoriferous fritters were fried, and some merry-go-rounds with thunderous, wheezy, groaning steam organs splitting one's ears, and platforms upon which the peasants danced and danced until one would have thought them fit to drop with fatigue. it did not take long to examine the attractions most thoroughly, but there were two very extraordinary exhibits of enormously fat women (who are great favorites with the peasantry, and no celebration seems to be complete without them). their booths were placed opposite to each other, nearly face to face, with only about forty feet between them. in this space crowded the peasants listening open mouthed in wonder at the vocabulary of the rival "barkers." as usual, a shower came on during the afternoon, and the decorations were soaked with the downpour. the wickerwork horse bayard was left to itself out in the square, and the wind whisked the water soaked draperies over its head, disclosing piteously all of its poor framework. the leaden skies showing no promise of clearing, we called the driver of the ancient "fiacre," and after settling our score at the "grande hôtel café royal de la tête d'or," we departed for the station of the "chemin de fer," which bumped us well but safely along the road to antwerp. we came again later on to this little town on the river, thinking that we might not have done it entire justice, because of the discomfort of the rainy day. and while we did not, it is true, find anything of great value to record, nor anything in the way of bells to gloat over, still our rather dismal impression of the little town in the drizzling rain as we last saw it, was quite removed and replaced by a picture more to our liking. we were constantly finding new and unusual charms in the quaint old towns, each seeming for some reason quainter than the preceding one. here on this occasion it looked so tranquil, so somnolent, that we tarried all unwilling to lose its flavor of the unusual. there were old weather beaten walls of ancient brick, mossy in places, and here and there little flights of steep steps leading down into the water; broad pathways there were too, shaded by tall trees and behind them vistas of delightful old houses, each doubtless with its tales of joy, gayety, pain or terror of the long ago. the local policeman stood at a deserted street corner examining us curiously. he was the only sign of life visible except ourselves, and soon he, satisfied that we were only crazy foreigners with nothing else to do but wander about, took himself off yawning, his hands clasped behind his back, and his short sword rattling audibly in the stillness. the atmosphere of this silent street by the river, shaded almost to a twilight by the thick foliage, with the old houses all about us, seemed to invite reminiscence, or dreams of the stern and respectable old burghers and burgesses in sombre clothing, wide brimmed hats, and stiffly starched linen ruffs about their necks as rendered by rembrandt, hals, rubens and jordaens. they must have been veritable domestic despots, magnates of the household, but certainly there must have been something fine about them too, for they are most impressive in their portraits. "they shook the foot of spain from their necks," and when they were not fighting men they fought the waters. truly the history of their struggles is a wondrous one! none of these was in sight, however, as we strolled the streets, but we did disturb the chat or gossip of two delightful, apple cheeked old ladies in white caps, who became dumb with astonishment at the sight of two foreigners who walked about gazing up at the roofs and windows of the houses, and at the mynheer in knickerbockers who was always looking about him and writing in a little book. one cannot blame them for being so dumbfounded at such actions, such _incomprehensible_ disturbing actions in a somnolent town of long ago. in the vestibule of the dark dim old church, i copied the following inscription from a wall. it sounds something like english gone quite mad--and the last line, it seems to me, runs rather trippingly--and contains something of an idea too, whatever it means: "al wat er is. mijn hoop is christus en zyn bloed. door deze leer ik en hoop door die het eenwig goed. ons leven is maar eenen dag, vol ziekten en vol naar geklag. vol rampen dampen (!) en vendriet. een schim eien droom en anders niet." a small steamer had advertised to leave for antwerp about 3 o'clock. it lay puffing and wheezing at the side of the stream, and we went on board and settled ourselves comfortably, tired out with our wanderings. here a bevy of children discovered us and ranged themselves along the dyke to watch our movements, exploding with laughter whenever we addressed one another. finally an oily hand appeared at the hatchway of the engine room, followed by the touseled yellow head of a heavily bearded man. he looked at us searchingly, then at the line of tormenting children. then he seized a long pole and advanced threateningly upon the phalanx. they fled incontinently out of reach, calling out various expletives in flemish--of which i distinguished only one, "koek bakker"! this would seem to be the crowning insult to cast at a respectable engineer, for he shook his fist at them. to our amazement he then touched his greasy cap to us, and in the broadest possible scotch dialect bade us welcome. there is a saying that one has only to knock on the companion ladder of any engine room in any port the world over, and call out "sandy" to bring up in response one or two canny scots from the engine room below. this little steamer evidently took the place of the carrier's cart used elsewhere; for passengers and parcels, as well as crates of vegetables were her cargo. at length we started puffing along the river, and stopping from time to time at small landings leading to villages whose roofs appeared above the banks and dykes. delightful bits of the more intimate side of the people's life revealed themselves to us on these unusual trips. we passed a fine looking old peasant woman in a beautiful lace cap, rowing a boat with short powerful strokes in company with a young girl, both keeping perfect time. the boat was laden with green topped vegetables and brightly burnished brass milk cans, forming a picture that was most quaint to look upon. and later we passed a large rhine barge, from the cabin of which came the most appetizing odor of broiled bacon. our whistle brought out the whole family, and likewise a little nervous black and white dog who went nearly mad with the excitement attendant upon driving us away from the property he had to protect. night was falling when we reached the quay side in antwerp, and we disembarked to the tinkling melody of the wondrous chimes from the tower of the great cathedral. louvain louvain it was in the great gothic church of st. peter that mathias van den gheyn delighted to execute those wonderful "_morceaux fugues_" now at once the delight and the despair of the musical world, upon the fine chime of bells in the tower. this venerable tower was entirely destroyed in the terrible bombardment of the town in 1914. it is probable that no town in belgium was more frequented by learned men of all professions, since its university enjoyed such a high reputation the world over, and certainly its library, likewise entirely destroyed, with its precious tomes and manuscripts, was considered second to none. the old church of st. peter, opposite the matchless hôtel de ville, was a cruciform structure of noble proportions and flanked with remarkable chapels; it was begun, according to the archives in brussels, in 1423, to replace an earlier building of the tenth century, and was "finished" in the sixteenth century. there was, it seems, originally a wooden spire on the west side of the structure but "it was blown down in a storm in 1606." when i saw it in 1910, the church was in process of restoration, and the work was being very intelligently done by competent men. before the façade was a most curious row of bizarre small houses of stucco, nearly every one of which was a sort of saloon or café, and the street before them was quite obstructed by small round tables and chairs at which, in the afternoon from four to five, the shopkeepers and bourgeois of the town gathered for the afternoon "_aperitif_," whatever it might be, and to discuss politics. for be it known that this period before the outbreak of the war, was in belgium a troublous one for the flemings, because of the continued friction between the clerical and the anti-clerical parties. these bizarre houses, i was told by one of the priests with whom i talked, were owned by the church, and were very profitable holdings, but tourists and others had made such sport of them, and even entered such grave protests to the bishop, that the authorities finally concluded to tear them down. but they were certainly very picturesque, as my picture shows, their red tiled roofs and green blinds, making most agreeable notes of color against old st. peter's gray wall. [illustration: the cathedral: louvain] the church so wantonly destroyed in 1914 contained some most remarkable works of art in the nine chapels. among these were the "martyrdom of st. erasmus," by dierick bouts, long thought to be a work of memling. another painting, "the last supper," was also considered one of memling's works, until its authenticity was established by the finding of the receipt by bouts for payment, discovered in the archives of the library in louvain in 1870. formerly the church owned a great treasure in quentin matsys' "holy family," but this was sold to the brussels museum for something less than £10,000, and upon the outbreak of the war was in that collection. it is said that most of these great paintings owned in belgium were placed in zinc and leaden cases and sent over to england for safety. it is to be hoped that this is true. the _custode_ showed, with most impressive manner, a quaint image of the savior which, he related, was connected with a miraculous legend to the effect that the statue had captured and held a thief who had broken into the church upon one occasion! the townspeople venerate this image, and on each occasion when i visited the church, i noted the number of old women on their knees before it, and the many lighted waxen candles which they offered in its honor. a wave of indignation passed over the world of art when the newspapers reported the destruction of the beautiful hôtel de ville, just opposite old st. peter's. this report was almost immediately followed by a denial from berlin that it had suffered any harm whatever, and it would seem that this is true. the library, however, with its hundreds of thousands of priceless records, and masterpieces of printing is, it is admitted, entirely destroyed! this great building, black and crumbling with age, was situated in a small street behind the hôtel de ville. the town itself was bright and clean looking, and there was a handsome boulevard leading from the new gothic railway station situated in a beflowered parkway, which was lined with prosperous looking shops. this whole district was "put to the torch" and wantonly destroyed when the town was captured in 1914. late photographs show the new station levelled to the ground, and the parkway turned into a cemetery with mounds and crosses showing where the soldiers who lost their lives in the bombardment, and subsequent sacking, are buried. remembering the complete destruction of ypres, one can only believe that the preservation of the hôtel de ville was entirely miraculous and unintentional. p.j. verhaegan, a flemish painter of considerable reputation and ability, had decorated one of the two "absidiole" chapels which contained a very richly carved tomb over a certain lady of the thirteenth century whose fame is known all over flanders. the legend was most dramatically told to me by one of the young priests of st. peter's, and this is the story of the beautiful margaret, called "the courageous," (la fière). [illustration: the town hall: louvain] by the grace of god, there lived in louvain, in the year 1235, one armand and his wife, both devout catholics and the keepers of a travelers' "ordinary" on the road to the coast, called tirlemont. these two at length decided to retire from their occupation as "hôteliers," and devote and consecrate the remainder of their lives to god, and the blessed saints. now they had a niece who was a most beautiful girl and whose name was margaret, and she had such disdain for the young gallants of louvain that they bestowed upon her the name of "la fière." although but eighteen years of age she determined to follow the example of her uncle and aunt, and later become a "beguine," thus devoting her life to charity and the care of the sick and unfortunate, for this is the work of the order of "beguines." they realized a large sum of money from the sale of the hotel, and this became known throughout the countryside. it was said that the money was hidden in the house in which they lived, and at length eight young men of evil lives, pondering upon this, resolved that they would rob this noble couple. upon a stormy night they demanded admittance, saying that they were belated travelers. the young girl margaret was absent from the room for a moment, when these ruffians seized the old couple and murdered them. on her return to the upper room from the cellar, margaret surprised them ransacking the strong box beside the fireplace. so they overpowered her also, but at once there ensued an argument as to what should be done with her, when the chief rogue, admiring her great beauty, proposed to her that she accept him as her lover and depart with him for france, where they could live happily. this she scornfully refused, whereupon "one of the ruffians strangled her for ten marcs of silver; and her soul, white and pure as the angels, ascended to the throne of jesus, in whom she so well believed, and there became '_l'unique espoux dont elle ambitionait l'amour._'" it is said that henry the first sitting in a window of his château on the river dyle one night, saw floating on the dark water the corpse of this young martyr, where the ruffians had thus thrown her, and "the pale radiance from her brow illuminated the whole valley." calling to his consort, marguerite of flanders, he pointed out to her the wondrous sight, and hastening forth they drew her dripping body from the dark slimy water and bore it tenderly to the château. the news spread far and wide, and for days came throngs to view the "sweet martyr's" body, for which the priests had prepared a costly catafalque, and for her a grand mass was celebrated in st. peter's where she was laid at rest in a tomb, the like of which for costliness was never seen in flanders. and this is the legend of margaret, called "la fière," whose blameless life was known throughout the land. i wish that i had made a drawing of this tomb while i was in the church, but i neglected unfortunately to do so. it was of simple lines, but of great richness of detail. of course both it and the beautiful wax paintings of m. verhaegan are now entirely destroyed in the ruins of st. peter's. douai douai although across the border in france, douai must still be called a flemish town, because of its history and affiliations. the town is quaint in the extreme and of great antiquity, growing up originally around a gallo-roman fort. in the many wars carried on by the french against the english, the flemish and the germans, not to mention its sufferings from the invading spaniards, it suffered many sieges and captures. resisting the memorable attack of louis the eleventh, it has regularly celebrated the anniversary of this victory each year in a notable fête or kermesse, in which the effigies of the giant gayant and his family, made of wickerwork and clad in medieval costumes, are paraded through the town by order of the authorities, followed by a procession of costumed attendants through the tortuous streets, to the music of bands and the chimes from the belfry of the hôtel de ville. this, the most notable edifice in the town, is a fine gothic tower one hundred and fifty feet high, with a remarkable construction of tower and turrets, supported by corbels of the fifteenth century, containing a fine chime of bells made by the van den gheyns. the bells are visible from below, hanging sometimes well outside the turret of the bell chamber, and, ranging tier upon tier, from those seemingly the size of a gallon measure, to those immense ones weighing from fifteen hundred to two thousand pounds. this great tower witnessed the attack and occupation of the spaniards, the foundation by the roman catholics of the great university in 1652 to counter-act the protestantism of the netherlands, which had but a brief career, and the capture of the town by louis the fourteenth. here was published in 1610 an english translation of the old testament for roman catholics, as well as the english roman catholic version of the scriptures, and the new testament translated at rheims in 1582, and known as the "douai bible." this was also the birthplace of jean bellgambe, the painter (1540) surnamed "maître des couleurs," whose nine great oaken panels form the wonderful altarpiece in the church of notre dame. [illustration: the town hall: douai] douai was, before the great war, a peaceful industrial center of some importance, of some thirty thousand inhabitants. it has been said that the fleming worked habitually fifty-two weeks in the year. an exception, however, must be made for fête days, when no self-respecting fleming will work. on these days the holiday makers are exceedingly boisterous, and the streets are filled with the peasants clad in all their holiday finery. but it is on the day of the kermesse that your fleming can be seen to the best advantage. there are merry-go-rounds, shooting galleries, swings, maybe a traveling circus or two, and a theatrical troupe which shows in a much bespangled and mirrored tent, decorated with tinsel and flaming at night with naphtha torches. bands of music parade the streets, each carrying a sort of banneret hung with medals and trophies awarded by the town authorities at the various "_séances_." but the greatest noise comes from the barrel organs of huge size and played by steam, or sometimes by a patient horse clad in gay apparel who trudges a sort of treadmill which furnishes the motive power. in even these small towns of ancient flanders such as douai, the old allegorical representations, formerly the main feature of the event, are now quite rare, and therefore this event of the parade of the wicker effigies of the fabulous giant gayant and his family was certainly worth the journey from tournai. the day was made memorable also to the writer and his companion because of the following adventure. there had been, it seems, considerable feeling against england among the lower orders in this border town over the anglo-boer war, so that overhearing us speaking english, some half grown lads began shouting out at us "verdamt engelsch" and other pleasantries, and in a moment a crowd gathered about us. with the best flemish at his command the writer addressed them, explaining that we were americans, but what the outcome would have been, had it not been for the timely arrival of a gendarme, i know not; but under his protection we certainly beat a hasty retreat. the lower classes of flemings in their cups are unpleasant people to deal with, and it were well not to arouse them. but for this incident, and the fact that the afternoon brought on a downpour of rain, which somewhat dampened the ardor of the people and the success of the fête, our little trip over the border to this historic town would be considered worth while. our last view of douai was from the train window as we recrossed the river scarpe, with the massive tower of the hôtel de ville showing silhouetted dim and gray against a streaming sky. oudenaarde oudenaarde from the small stucco station, embowered in luxuriant trees, we crossed a wide grass grown square, faring towards the turrets of the town, which appeared above the small red and black tiled roofs of some mean looking peasant houses, and an _estaminet_, of stucco evidently brand new, and bearing a gilt lion over its door. here a wide and rather well paved street led towards the town, bordered upon either hand by well kept and clean but blank looking houses, with the very narrowest sidewalks imaginable, all of which somehow reminded us of some of the smaller streets of philadelphia. the windows of these houses flush with the street were closely hung with lace, and invariably in each one was either a vase or a pot of some sort filled with bright flowers. occasionally there was a small poor looking shop window in which were dusty glass jars of candy, pipes, packages of tobacco, coils of rope and hardware, and in one, evidently that of an apothecary, a large carved and varnished black head of a grinning negro, this being the sign for such merchandise as tobacco and drugs. here and there doorways were embellished with shiny brass knockers of good form, and outside one shop was a tempting array of cool green earthenware bowls of such beautiful shape that i passed them by with great longing. soon this street made a turning, where there was a good bronze statue to some dignitary or other, and i caught a glimpse of that wondrous tower of the famous hôtel de ville, the mate to that at louvain, and soon i was beneath its gothic walls, bearing row upon row of niches, empty now, but once containing effigies of the powerful lords and ladies of flanders. these rows rise tier upon tier to that exquisitely slender lace-like tower crowned with a large gilded statue of the town's patron, pennant in hand, and shining in the sunlight. from the inn of the "golden apple of oudenaarde" just opposite, i appraised its beauties over a good meal of young broiled chicken and lettuce salad, and a bowl of "_café au lait_" that was all satisfying. afterwards, the _custode_, an old soldier, showed us the "salle des pas perdus," containing a fine chimney piece alone worth the journey from antwerp, and the council chamber, still hung with some good ancient stamped leather, and several large badly faded and cracked spanish paintings of long forgotten dignitaries both male and female. [illustration: the town hall: oudenaarde] one paul van schelden, a wood carver of great ability and renown, wrought a wonderful doorway, which was fast falling apart when i saw it. this gave access to a large room, the former cloth hall, now used as a sort of theatre and quite disfigured at one end by a stage and scenic arch. the walls were stenciled meanly with a large letter a surmounted by a crown. the interior had nothing of interest to show. on the opposite side of the square was the large old church of st. walburga, with a fine tower capped by a curious upturned bulbous cupola, upon which was a large gilt open-work clock face. as usual, there was a chime of bells visible, and a flock of rooks circling about the tower. the style of st. walburga was romanesque, with gothic tendencies. built in the twelfth century, it suffered severely at the hands of the iconoclasts, and even in its unfinished state was very impressive, none the less, either, because of the rows of small stucco red roofed houses which clung to its walls, leaving only a narrow entrance to its portal. inside i found an extremely rich polychromed renaissance "reredos," and there was also the somewhat remarkable tomb of "claude talon," kept in good order and repair. oudenaarde was famed for the part it played in the history of flanders, and was also the birthplace of margaret of parma. it was long the residence of mary of burgundy, and gave shelter to charles the fifth, who sought the protection of its fortifications during the siege of tournai in 1521. here, too, marlborough vanquished the french in 1708. i might go on for a dozen more pages citing the names of remarkable personages who gave fame to the town, which now is simply wiped from the landscape. but by some miracle, it is stated, the town hall still stands practically uninjured. i have tried in vain to substantiate this, or at least to obtain some data concerning it, but up to this writing my letters to various officials remain unanswered. i like to think of oudenaarde as i last saw it--the huge black door of the church yawning like a gaping chasm, the square partly filled with devout peasants in holiday attire for the church fête, whatever it was. part of the procession had passed beyond the gloom of the vast aisles into the frank openness of daylight. between the walls of the small houses at either hand a long line of figures was marching with many silken banners. there seemed to be an interminable line of young girls--first communicants, i fancied,--in all the purity of their white veils and gowns against the somber dull grays of the church. this mass of pure white was of dazzling, startling effect, something like a great bed of white roses. [illustration: old square and church: oudenaarde] then came a phalanx of nuns clad in brown--i know not what their order was--their wide white cowls or coifs serving only to accentuate the pallor of their grave faces, veritable "incarnations of meek renunciation," as some poet has beautifully expressed it. then followed a group of seminarians clad in the lace and scarlet of their order, swinging to and fro their brazen censers from which poured fragrant clouds of incense. all at once a curious murmur came from the multitude, followed by a great rustling, as the whole body of people sank to their knees, and then i saw beyond at a distance across the square, the archbishop's silken canopy, and beneath it a venerable figure with upraised arms, elevating the host. surely a moment of great picturesqueness, even to the non-participant; the bent heads of the multitude; the long lines of kneeling black figures; scarlet and gold and lace of the priests' robes against the black note of the nuns' somber draperies; the white coifs and veils, through which the sweet rapture of young religious awe made even homely features seem beautiful: the gold and scarlet again of the choristers; and finally, that culminating note of splendor beneath the silken canopy of the cardinal archbishop (cardinal mercier) enthroned here like some ancient venerated monarch; all this against the neutral gray and black lines of the townspeople; surely this was the psychological moment in which to leave oudenaarde, that i might retain such a picture in my mind's eye. furnes furnes the old red brick, flat topped, tower of st. nicholas was the magnet which drew us to this dear sleepy old town, in the southwest corner of the belgian littoral; and here, lodged in the historic hostel of the "nobèle rose" we spent some golden days. the name of the town is variously pronounced by the people foorn, fern, and even fearn. i doubt if many travelers in the netherlands ever heard of it. yet the town is one of great antiquity and renown, its origin lost in the dimness of the ages. according to the chronicles in the great library at bruges, as early as a.d. 800 it was the theatre of invasions and massacres by the normans. that learned student of flemish history, m. leopold plettinck, has made exhaustive researches among the archives in both brussels and bruges, and while he has been unable to trace its beginnings he has collected and assorted an immense amount of detailed matter referring to baudoin (or baldwin) bras de fer, who seems to have been very active in harassing the people who had the misfortune to come under his hand. the war of the "deux roses" was fought outside the walls here, likewise the battle of the spurs took place on the plains between furnes and ypres. following the long undulations of the dunes from dunkerque, overgrown here and there with a rank coarse grass sown by the authorities to protect them from the wind and the encroachments of the ever menacing sea, dune succeeds dune, forming a landscape of most unique character. passing the small hamlet of zuitcote, marked by the sunken tower of its small church, which now serves as a sort of semaphore for the fishing boats off the coast, one reached the canal which crosses the plain picturesquely. this led one along the path to the quaint old town of furnes, showing against the heavy dark green of the old trees, its dull red and pink roofs with the bulk of the tower forming a picture of great attractiveness. the town before the war had about six thousand population which seemed quite lost in the long lines of silent grass grown streets, and the immense grand' place, around which were ranged large dark stone flemish houses of somewhat forbidding exteriors. all the activity of the town, however, was here in this large square, for the lower floors had been turned into shops, and also here was the hotel, before which a temporary moving picture theatre had been put up. [illustration: the fish market: ypres] these are very popular in flanders, and are called "cinema-américain." the portable theatres are invariably wooden and are carried "knocked down" in large wagons drawn by hollow-backed, thick-legged flemish horses. as a rule they have steam organs to furnish the "music" and the blare of these can be heard for miles across the level plains. the pictures shown are usually of the lurid sort to suit the peasants, and the profits must be considerable, as the charge is ten and twenty-five cents for admission. on this square is the hôtel de ville, the palace of justice, and conciergerie. this latter is a sort of square "donjon" of great antiquity, crenelated, with towers at each corner and the whole construction forming an admirable specimen of hispano-flemish architecture. the angle of the "place" opposite the pavilion of the officers is occupied by the hôtel de ville and the "palais de justice," very different in style, for on one side is a massive façade of severe aspect and no particular period, while on the other is a most graceful flemish renaissance construction, reminding one of a rubens opposed, in all its opulence, to a cold classic portrait by gainsborough. the hôtel de ville, of 1612, exhibits in its "pignons," its columns and renaissance motifs, a large high tower of octagonal form surmounted by a small cupola. its frontage pushes forward a loggia of quite elegant form, with balustrades in the renaissance style. above this grave looking gray building rises the tower of the "beffroi," part gothic in style. all the houses on the "place" have red tiled roofs, and gables in the renaissance style very varied in form, and each one with a characteristic window above, framed richly _en coquille_, and decorated with arabesques. behind these houses is what remains of the ancient church of st. walburga, half buried in the thick verdure of the garden. after considerable difficulty we gained admittance to the ruin, because it is not considered safe to walk beneath its walls. even in its ruin it was most imposing and majestic. we would have tarried here, but the _custode_ was very nervous and hurried us through the thickets of bushes growing up between the stones of the pavement, and fairly pushed us out again into the small parkway, accepting the very generous fee which i gave him with what i should call surliness. but we ignored this completely, after the manner of old travelers, which we had been advised to adopt. at one side were stored some rather dilapidated and dirty wax figures which reclined in various postures, somewhat too lifelike in the gloom of the chamber, and entirely ludicrous, so much so that it was with much difficulty that we controlled our smiles. the roving eye of the surly _custode_, however, warned us against levity of any sort. these wax figures, he explained, gruffly enough, were those of the most sacred religious personages, and the attendant saints and martyrs, used in the great procession and ceremony of the "sodalité," which is a sort of passion play, shown during the last sunday in july of each year in the streets of the town. the story relates an adventure of a count of flanders, who brought to furnes, during the first years of the holy crusades, a fragment of the true cross. assailed by a tempest in the channel off the coast, he vowed the precious object to the first church he came to, if his prayers for succor were answered. "immediately the storm abated, and the count, bearing the fragment of the cross aloft, was miraculously transported over the waves to dry land." this land proved to be the sand dunes of flanders, and the church tower was that of st. walburga. after a conference with his followers, who also were saved, he founded the solemn annual procession in honor of the true cross, in which was also introduced the representation of the "mysteries of the passion."[2] this procession was suppressed during the religious troubles of the reform, but afterwards was revived by the church authorities, and now all of the episodes of the life of christ pass yearly through the great grand' place--the stable in bethlehem; the flight into egypt; down to the grand drama of the calvary and the resurrection, all are shown and witnessed with great reverence by the crowds of devout peasants from the surrounding country. and these pathetic waxen figures were those of prophets, apostles, jews, angels, cavaliers and roman soldiers, lying all about the dim dusty chamber in disorder. afterwards, from the window of the quaint hôtel of the "nobèle rose," we saw this procession passing through the crowded streets of furnes, and almost held our breaths with awe at the long line of black cloaked, hooded penitents, bare-footed, the faces covered so that one could hardly tell whether they were men or women, save for the occasional delicate small white foot thrust forward beneath the black shapeless gown. and finally _one figure_, likewise black gowned and with concealed face, staggering along painfully--feebly--and bearing a heavy wooden cross, the end of which dragged along on the stones of the street.[3] outside of this, the grand' place, and the old red brick tower of st. nicholas, so scorched by the sun and beaten by the elements, and the rows of quaint gabled houses beneath, furnes has little to offer to the seeker after antiquity. the bells in the tower are of sweet tone, but the chimes which hung there were silent, and no amount of persuasion could induce the _custode_ to admit me to the bell chamber. madame at the "nobèle rose" had assured me that i could go up there into the tower whenever i wished, but somehow that pleasure was deferred, until finally we were forced to give it up. of course madame _did_ rob me; when the bill was presented, it proved to be fifty per cent. more than the price agreed upon, but she argued that we had "used" the window in our apartment overlooking the procession, so we must pay for that privilege. the point was so novel that i was staggered for a suitable reply to it,--the crucial moment passed,--i was lost. i paid! the artists of malines the artist of malines it may not be out of place to add here some account of the artists[4] who dwelt in and made malines famous in the early days. primitively the painters formed part of the society of furniture makers, while sculptors affiliated with the masons' gild. these at length formed between them a sort of federation as they grew in number and power. finally, in 1543, they formed the gild of saint luke. in 1560 they numbered fifty-one free masters, who gave instruction to a great number of apprentices. they admitted the gold beaters to membership in 1618, and the following year the organization had increased to ninety-six members. working in alabaster was, during this epoch, a specialty with the sculptors of malines, which soon resulted in a monopoly with them, for they made a law that no master workman could receive or employ more than one apprentice every four years. the workers in gold covered the statues with heavy ornaments of gold, it being forbidden to market statuary not so gilded. the gild of saint luke chafed under this ruling of the gild master, and surreptitiously made and delivered some statuary and paintings without any gilding whatever. charges being brought against the offenders, they were fined twenty-five florins, and a law was passed authorized by the magistrate, permitting domiciliary visits upon certain days known only to the officers, to the houses of suspected men engaged in art work. of course reputable workmen were free from suspicion, it being only those mediocre craftsmen and irregular apprentices who would engage in such traffic. it was not until 1772 that any sculptor was permitted to paint or gild for profit, nor was any painter allowed to model. the profession of an artist was regarded as less than an industry, being a sort of hand to mouth existence in which the unfortunate was glad to accept whatever work the artisan could give him. in 1783 the gild had dwindled to twelve members, who finally were absorbed by the academy of design, established by maria theresa in 1773. thus perished the gild of painters and sculptors of malines. the following is a list of the principal artists and engravers, chronologically arranged, who made malines famous: jean van battele, one of the promoters of the gild of saint luke of malines, was a successful workman in 1403. he was said to be more of a painter-glazer than a painter of pictures, but there is sufficient evidence that he practised both genres. gauthier van battele, son of the above, was admitted to the gild in 1426, and figured in the artistic annals of the town in 1474-75. baudoin van battele, alias vander wyck, believed to be "petitfils" of gauthier, is mentioned in the chronicles of 1495. he painted many mural pictures for the "beyaerd"; the fresco of the judgment day in the great hall of the "vierschaer" is his greatest work. he died about 1508. he had one son, jean, who executed a triptych in the hôtel de ville of malines in 1535, and illuminated a manuscript register on vellum relating to the "_toison d'or_." this book was presented to charles-quint, and so pleased him that he ordered a duplicate which cost the artist three years of hard work to complete. he died in july, 1557, highly honored. daniel van yleghem was the chief workman upon the holy tabernacle of the chief altar of st. rombauld. an engraver of great merit; he died in 1451(?). jean van orshagen occupied the position of royal mint engraver of malines, 1464-65. the following year he was discovered passing false money at louvain. imprisoned, he died of the pestilence in 1471. guillaume trabukier excelled in the art of a designer-engraver (ciseleur) in gold. for the town he made many beautiful pieces of work, notably the silver statue of st. rombauld which decorated the high altar of the cathedral. he died in 1482. zacherie van steynemolen, born about 1434, was an excellent engraver of dies. during more than forty years (1465-1507) he made the seals of the town corporations. notably he engraved for the emperor frederic iv the two great seals which are now in the museum. he died in 1507. michael or michel coxie, le vieux, was a greatly esteemed painter who worked under the direction of raphaël. his real name was van coxciën, or coxcyën, but he changed its form to coxie. his son, michel coxie le jeune, surnamed the flemish raphaël, was born in 1499, and first studied under his father. he was shortly placed with bernard van orley, who sent him to rome, where he might study the work of raphaël sanzio. his work was of very unequal merit, although he painted hundreds of compositions in triptych form for the churches. towards the end of his life he was commissioned to paint a decoration for the hôtel de ville of antwerp. he fell from the scaffolding during his work, receiving such injuries that he was incapacitated. removed to his home in malines, he died after some years of suffering, aged 93 years! his second son, raphaël coxie, born in 1540, was a painter of great merit, whose paintings were ordered for the royal spanish cabinet. he lived at antwerp, ghent, and brussels respectively, and died, full of honors, in 1616. michael, or michel, coxie, the third of the name, was received in the gild of painters the 28th day of september, 1598. he is the author of the triptych over the altar of the "jardiniers" of notre-dame au dela de la dyle. he died in 1618. michel coxie, the fourth, son of the above, born september, 1604, was elected to the gild in 1623. he became court painter to the king. jean coxie, son of michel (above) excelled as a painter of landscape. he it was who decorated the two great salons of the "parc" abbey. the subjects were drawn from the life of saint norbert. his son, jean-michel, though a member of the gild of malines, passed almost his whole life in amsterdam, dusseldorf, and berlin. in the latter town he enjoyed the favor and patronage of frederick i. he died in milan in 1720. jean de gruyter, gold worker and engraver, came in 1504 to malines, where he enjoyed a certain renown. after his death in 1518, his sons jean and pierre continued the work which he began. jean made seals of great beauty of detail, but pierre was condemned to banishment in 1536 and confiscation of all his goods and chattels, for counterfeiting the state coinage. jean hoogenbergh, born about 1500, was a successful painter of miniatures; he lived about fifty years. jean van ophem was appointed civic engraver of seals and gold worker. he died in 1553. françois verbeek became master workman in 1531, and finally _doyen_ of the craft. he abandoned oil painting for distemper, in which medium he excelled, producing masterpieces depicting the most fantastic subjects. he died in july, 1570. hans verbeek, or hans de malines, believed to be the son of françois. he was court painter to albert and isabella. he died sometime after 1619. grégoire berincx, born in 1526, visited italy and there made paintings in distemper of the ruins and ancient constructions. returning to his native town in 1555 he was at once made a gild member of the corporation of painters. he died in 1573. his youngest son, grégoire, became _doyen_, and of him the following story is told: the great van dyck visited him unexpectedly one day, and demanded that he make a sketch of him (van dyck) at once, in his presence. berincx accordingly painted in monotone the sketch in full length, adding the details in carnation, and so charmed was van dyck, that he assured him that he would adopt the system in his own work, "if he would permit." he died full of honors the 14th of october, 1669. jacques de poindre, born in 1527, acquired a brilliant reputation as a portrait painter. he afterwards established himself under royal patronage in denmark where he died in 1570. corneille ingelrams, a painter in distemper, was born in 1527. he practised his art successfully in malines and died in 1580. his son, andré, was admitted to the painters' gild in may, 1571, and died in 1595. marc willems, born about 1527, was a pupil of michel coxie (le vieux), was considered a great painter in his time. he made many designs for the decorators, and admirable cartoons for tapestry makers. he died in 1561. jean carpreau was commissioned in 1554 to take charge of the restorations of the "chasse" of the patron saint of the town. such was his success that he was appointed official seal cutter and engraver, a position of great importance in those days. at the hôtel de ville was preserved and shown a remarkable die in silver from his hand, for the seal of the municipality of malines. jean or hans bol, born december, 1534, was the pupil of his uncles jacques and jean the elder, but after two years of apprenticeship he went to germany for a time. returning to malines, he devoted himself to the painting of landscapes with great success. likewise he sometimes engraved plates on copper. his productions are many. he died at amsterdam in 1593. lambert de vos, admitted to the gild of saint luke in 1563, was engaged in the service of charles kimy, imperial ambassador to constantinople. he painted oriental subjects in water colors, which were distinguished for richness of color, and accuracy of drawing. many of these are in the library of brême. jean snellinck, born about 1554, was an historical and battle painter. it was he who prepared the designs for the tapestries of oudenaarde. during his residence in that town he painted the triptych for the church of notre dame de pamele. he died at antwerp in 1638. louis toeput was born about 1550. he was a landscape painter of renown, but also drew many architectural subjects. in his later period, he devoted himself to flemish literature with marked success as an authority. luc van valckenborgh, called "partisan of the reform," was born in 1566, and in his student days went to germany, where he practised his art as a portrait painter. his reputation was made by his portrait of the archduke matthias. he died in 1625, leaving a son martin, also his pupil, who established himself at antwerp and later at frankfort. martin was an historical and landscape painter, although he painted some good portraits in the manner of his father. he is thought to have died about 1636. philip vinckboons, the elder, was born about 1550, became an associate of the gild of painters in 1580, and died 1631. his son maur, the younger, born 1585, studied painting under his father, finishing under his uncle pierre stevens. he died in 1647. pierre stevens, born about 1550, was an historical painter and engraver, as well as a portrait painter. this master latinized his name and signed his works thus--p. stephani. he died in 1604 at prague, where he had dwelt since 1590, under the patronage of the emperor rudolphe ii. rombaut van avont, incorporated in the gild of saint luke in 1581, was a sculptor and painter as well as an illuminator of manuscripts on vellum. he died in 1619. his son pierre, born in 1599, was an excellent painter of landscapes, which were distinguished by a most agreeable manner. admitted as a "franc maitre" at antwerp, he became one of the burgesses of that town in october, 1631. luc franchoys, the elder, born january, 1574, was admitted to the gild in 1599. a painter of remarkable talent, he turned to historical subjects, which he produced with great success. in drawing, too, he was most skillful and correct. he died in 1693 and was buried with honors in the church of st. jean. his son pierre, born in 1606, became pupil of gérard seghers of antwerp, where he resided for some time. afterward he lived in paris, where his works were eagerly sought and appreciated. he never married, but always surrounded himself with young pupils to the time of his death in 1654. his younger brother, luc, was born 1616. he remained with his father, working in his studio until he was admitted to the gild, when he went to paris, where he painted portraits of members of the court, enjoying considerable renown and favor. he returned finally to malines, where he died in april, 1681. frans hals (the great), was born either here in malines, or at antwerp, in 1584. accounts differ. his parents were citizens of malines, at any rate. he had the honor and glory of introducing into holland the "procede magistral" of rubens and his school. his works are too well known to need description here. he established himself at haarlem, where he died in great poverty in 1666. not even his burial place is now known. [illustration: the church of our lady of hanswyk] jean le saive of namur, son of le saive the elder, was born in the commencement of the seventeenth century. he painted animals, landscapes, and historical subjects. in the latter genre he is inferior to his father; his color is drier, and his drawing less correct. the date of his death is not recorded. george biset, painter-decorator, entered the studio of michel coxie (third) in 1615. he lived throughout his life at malines, and died 1671. his son, charles emmanuel, born 1633, was an excellent portrait painter, enjoying much appreciation at the court of france. he became burgess of antwerp in 1663, and was elected a director of the academy. he died at breda in 1685. martin verhoeven was elected to the gild in 1623. he painted flowers and fruit pieces which enjoyed great celebrity. his brother jean was known as a portraitist of great ability. in late life he produced some good sculptures. david herregouts, born 1603, was elected to the gild in 1624. examples of his work are rare. he died at ruremonde. his son henri was a pupil of his father. david went to italy, residing at rome. after traveling in germany he returned to malines, and died at antwerp at an advanced age. jacques de (or van) homes, painter in distemper, was a pupil of grégoire berincx (second) and executed much work in "ciselé" under the direction of fayd'herbe. he died in 1674. jean philippe van thieleu, born 1618, was an eminent flower and still-life painter, under the guidance of daniel zeghers. he was patronized by the king of spain, and died in 1674. ferdinand elle, born 1631, according to some; in 1612, say other accounts, painter of portraits, went to paris, where he remained until his death in 1660(?). gilles (or egide) smeyers, historical painter, was born in 1635, and studied under his father nicholas, later under jean verhoeven. in friendship for his companion and master luc franchoys the younger, he finished many of the latter's incompleted works after his death. his son jacques, born 1657, was admitted to the gild in 1688, and died in 1732. egide joseph, natural son of jacques, born 1694, was an historical painter, as well as a poet. he lived at dusseldorf for three years. obliged to support his sick parents, he did a great deal of work. smeyers had a profound knowledge of the latin tongue, which he wrote with great fluency and ease, in both poetry and prose. he possessed, too, a working knowledge of french, german, and italian. his historical works are many. at length, sick and helpless, he was admitted to the hospital of notre dame, where he died in 1771. he painted the large portrait of cardinal thomas philippe d'alsace, archbishop of malines. daniel janssens, born in 1636, was a painter-decorator of the first order. he adopted the manner of jacques de hornes of whom he was the favorite pupil. after having resided in antwerp for some years he returned to malines, where he died in 1682. he it was who designed and constructed the immense triumphal arch for the jubilee of 1680. this arch is preserved in the town hall, and serves to decorate the façade of the "halles" on the occasion of the grandes fêtes. sebastian van aken, born 1648, was pupil of luc franchoys the younger. later he entered the studio of charles maratti in rome. after painting in spain and portugal he returned to malines, where he died in 1722. august casimir redel, born 1640. this painter of merit became insane from excesses and died in 1687. he was also the author of a life of st. rombaut (rombold) and wrote much in verse. he composed an ode on the occasion of the jubilee of malines in 1680. jacques la pla, pupil of jean le saive, a master painter of malines in 1673, died in 1678. jean barthelemy joffroy, born 1669, was historian, painter, and engraver. he died 1740. jean joseph van campenhout, designer and engraver. he was designer of the great book of the "cavalcade of malines" in 1775. antoine opdebeek, born 1709, author of many paintings of merit, was an untaught genius. employed in the hospital of st. hedwige in malines, he taught himself the art, with success, but never reached the height which would have been his had he had instruction in his youth. he died 1759. pierre antoine verhulst, born 1751, painter of marines and landscape, which he executed with great delicacy and charm, died 1809. matthieu joseph charles hunin, born 1770, was a master engraver, producing many plates after rubens and other masters. to his talent is also due a great number of original engravings of the tower of st. rombold; the interior and exterior of the cathedral of antwerp; the hôtels de villes of oudenaarde, brussels and louvain, etc., etc. he died in 1851. his son, pierre paul aloys, born 1808, was a genre painter of great taste and renown. his works in which the painting of silk and satin appeared were in great demand. he was professor of the malines academy, and in 1848 leopold i conferred upon him the decoration of the order of leopold. he died february 27th, 1855. many of his paintings have been reproduced in engravings. jean ver vloet, the _doyen_ of the artists of malines, died october 27th, 1869, after a long and successful artistic career. one of the founders of the society "pour l'encouragement des beaux arts" of malines, he was indefatigable in all art movements of the town. to him was due the success of the magnificent cavalcades for which malines has been famous. for fifty years he was the director of the academy of design and painting of his native town. this ends the list of famous painters of malines, and so far as i know it is the first and only one in english. did space permit i might include the architects who made flanders famous the world over as the cradle of art and architecture. a word about the belgians a word about the belgians the little country called belgium, it should be remembered, dates only from 1830, when the existing constitution was prepared and adopted for the nine southern provinces of the ancient netherlands. the sudden and unexpected revolt against the dutch in that year has been since styled "a misunderstanding" upon the part of the belgians, and was brought about by the action of the king, william i, of the house of orange-nassau, who attempted ostentatiously to change at once the language and religion of his southern subjects. they were both roman catholic and conservative to the last degree, attached to traditional rights and forms and fiercely proud of the ancient separate constitutions of the southern provinces, which could be traced back to the charters of the baldwins and wenceslas. undoubtedly the french revolution of 1830, which closed the monarchy of the bourbons, hastened the crisis. for the belgians had no liking for the rule of the house of orange-nassau against which they had discontentedly struggled for some years more or less openly. but matters might have gone on thus indefinitely had not the french revolution furnished ground for hope of support from a people akin in religion and language, as well as race. the smouldering fire of discontent broke into fierce flame on august 25th, 1830, in the city of brussels, during a performance of the opera "muette de portici," when the tenor was singing the inspired words of massaniello: "plutôt mourir que rester misérable, pour un esclave est-il quelque danger? tombe le joug qui nous accable, et sous nos coups périsse l'étranger. amour sacré de la patrie, rends nous l'audace et la fierté; à mon pays je dois la vie, il me devra sa liberté!" the immense audience, roused to patriotic enthusiasm, took up the words of the song and, rushing from the theatre _en masse_, paraded the streets, attacking the residences of the dutch ministers, which they sacked and burned. the few troops in the town were powerless to stem the revolt, which grew until brussels was entirely in the hands of the revolutionists, who then proceeded to appoint a council of government, which prepared the now celebrated document of separation. william sent his son, the prince of orange, to treat with the council, instead of sending a force of soldiers with which the revolt might have been terminated easily, it is claimed. the prince entered brussels accompanied only by a half dozen officers as escort. after three days' useless parley, he returned to king william with the "document of separation." the reply of the king to this message was made to the dutch chambers ten days later. denouncing the revolt, he declared that he would never yield to "passion and violence." orders were then issued to dutch troops under prince frederick of holland to proceed to brussels and retake the city. the attack was made upon the four gates of the walled city on september 23rd. the belgians prepared a trap, cunningly allowing the dutch soldiers to enter two of the gates and retreating towards the royal park facing the palace. here they rallied and attacked the troops of william from all sides at once. joined by a strong body of men from liège they fought for three days with such ferocity that prince frederick was beaten back again and again, until he was forced to retreat at midnight of the third day. in the battle six hundred belgian citizens were slain, and to these men, regarded now as the martyrs of the revolution, a great monument has been erected in the place des martyrs, near the trench in which they were buried. a provisional government was now formed which issued the following notice: "the belgian provinces, detached by force from holland, shall form an independent state." measures were taken to rid the country of the dutch, who were expelled forcibly across the border. envoys to paris and london presented documents to secure sympathy for the new government, while the fight for independence was still going on fiercely. waelhern and berchem, besieged by the belgian volunteers, soon fell, and the city of antwerp was occupied by them before the end of october. then the conference of the five powers, sitting in london, interposed to force an armistice in order to determinate some understanding and arrangement between the dutch and the belgians, since it had become evident that the netherlands kingdom of 1815 had practically come to an end. by the treaty of london in 1814, and that of vienna in 1815, belgium, after a short interregnum of austrian rule, was incorporated with holland into the kingdom of the netherlands. in the space of a month then the belgian patriots had accomplished their task, and on november 18th the national assembly, convoked, declared as its first act the independence of the belgians. it was now necessary to find a head upon which to place the crown. the first choice of the provisional government was the duc de nemours, the son of louis philippe, but objection was made to him on the ground that his selection would add too much, perhaps, to the power of france, so his candidature was withdrawn. choice was fixed finally upon prince leopold of saxe-coburg, who had but recently declined the throne of greece by advice of the european diplomats. a resident of england, this prince, who had espoused princess charlotte, the daughter of george iv, was well known as a most clear headed diplomat, a reputation he enjoyed during his whole career. in his acceptance he said: "human destiny does not offer a nobler or more useful task than that of being called to found the independence of a nation, and to consolidate its liberties." the people hailed and received him with great enthusiasm, and on july 21st he was crowned king of the belgians, with most impressive ceremonies, at brussels. the dutch, however, viewed all this with much concern, and at once began hostilities, thinking that the powers would sustain them rather than permit france to occupy belgium. at once dutch troops were massed for attack on both brussels and louvain. outnumbered by the dutch, the badly organized national forces of belgium met disaster at hasselt, and, realizing his peril, leopold besought the french, who were at the frontier, to come to his assistance. simultaneously with the assault on louvain, therefore, the french troops arrived at brussels. great britain now entered the fray, threatening to send a fleet of warships to occupy the scheldt unless king william recalled his army from belgium. this settled the matter, and the dutch withdrew. the french likewise returned to their own territory. jealousy, however, was manifested by austria, prussia and russia toward the new kingdom, and their refusal to receive leopold's ambassadors was calculated to encourage hope in holland that the reign of the new monarch was to be limited. new troubles began for the belgians, in the presentation of the london protocol of october 15, 1831, in consequence of a demand that the greater part of limbourg and luxembourg be ceded. not only the belgians but the dutch opposed this demand, as well as the conditions of the protocol. and at once king william prepared for armed resistance. leopold immediately after obtaining votes for the raising of the sum of three millions sterling for war purposes, increased the army to one hundred thousand men. now ensued a most critical period for the little kingdom, but both france and england held their shields over it, while leopold's marriage to the princess louise, eldest daughter of king louis philippe, gained for it still greater strength in its relations with france. king william, however, refused stubbornly to recognise the protocol, and retained possession of antwerp, which he held with a garrison of five thousand soldiers. antwerp citadel being the pride of the kingdom, the belgians, restive under the control of the powers, demanded that both england and france help them at once to recover it, alleging that in case this help was refused, they, with their hundred thousand men, were ready to capture it themselves. so in the month of november the french troops, under maréchal gérard, laid siege to the antwerp stronghold, held by general chassé, who after three weeks' siege capitulated, and the dutch, rather than have their warships captured, burnt and sank them in the scheldt. with the surrender of antwerp, the french withdrew their army, but the dutch sullenly refused to recognise the victory until the year 1839, when they withdrew from and dismantled the forts on the scheldt facing antwerp. naturally the support of the french and english brought about a deep and lasting feeling of gratitude on the part of the belgians. louis philippe said, "belgium owes her independence and the recovery of her territory to the union of france and england in her cause." her independence thus gained and recognised, belgium turned her attention to the development of the country and its rich natural resources. the manufactures flourished, her mines of coal and iron became famous throughout the world, and she trod the peaceful path of strict neutrality among the great nations. passing over the all familiar history of waterloo, one may quote the saying of m. northomb: "the battle of waterloo opened a new era for europe, the era of representative government." and this new era was enjoyed by belgium until the franco-prussian war confronted the little country with a fresh crisis, and one fraught with danger. although her absolute neutrality had been earnestly proclaimed and presented to the powers, it was feared that she might be invaded and be unable to maintain her integrity by her military force. leopold promptly mobilized the army and massed it upon the frontier. during and after the battle of sedan, a large number of both french and german soldiers crossed the border and were interned until the close of the war.... once more peace descended upon the belgians, for a fresh treaty prepared by england and signed by both france and prussia engaged the british government to declare war upon the power violating its provisions. after his acceptance of the crown of belgium, the constitution declared the monarchy hereditary in the male line of the family of prince leopold of saxe-coburg, which consisted of two sons and one daughter. the elder of the sons was born in 1835, and succeeded his father as leopold ii, in 1865. the austrian archduchess marie henriette became his wife in 1853, and their descendants were one son and three daughters, none of whom is now living. the salic law prevailing in belgium, the history of the female descendants is not of political importance. the only son of leopold ii dying in 1869, the succession passed to the brother of the king, the count of flanders, who married mary, princess of hohenzollern, a sister of the king of roumania. the death of their son prince baldwin in 1891 was held to be a national calamity. this left the nephew of leopold ii, prince albert (the present king of belgium), the heir presumptive to the throne. he married in 1900 the princess elizabeth of bavaria; to them have been born three children, two boys and a girl. both the king and queen, the objects of intense devotion on the part of the belgians, are very simple and democratic in their bearing toward the people. the queen is a very beautiful woman, and a most devoted wife and mother.... since the seat of government has been removed to havre, the queen divides her time between the little hamlet of la panne, headquarters of the belgian army, near the town of furnes on the dunes of the north sea, and london, where the children are being cared for and educated.... may not one hope that brighter days are in store for this devoted and heroic king and queen, for the once smiling and fertile land, and for the kindly, gentle, and law abiding belgian people?[5] the end index albert, king of belgium, 102, 207 alost, church of st. martin's, 113, 114 hôtel de ville, 111 antwerp, carillon of, 52 cathedral of, 41, 44, 143 archers of st. sebastian, 66 artists of malines, list of the, 183-195 aymon, legend of the four sons of, 133-136 baldwin bras-de-fer, 55, 171 baldwin the ninth, count of flanders, 72, 121 battle of the dunes, the, 101 battle of the spurs, the, 120, 172 battle of waterloo, the, 206 bayard, the horse, 133-138 beguinage, the, courtrai, 121 " " malines, 23-24 " " ypres, 82 bell-founding, process of, 45-48 berincx, grégoire, 186 " grégoire le jeune, 186, 191 bethune, robert of, count of flanders, 75, 79 biset, charles emmanuel, 191 " george, 191 bol, jean, 188 bouts, dierick, 48, 149 broël towers, the, courtrai, 119, 123 bruges, cathedral of, 41 library, 171 brussels, cathedral of, 41 museum of decorative arts, 76, 149 burgundy, house of, 68 " mary of, 165 carillons of antwerp, 52 " of bruges, 52 " of ghent, 52 " of louvain, 52 " of malines, 52 " of tournai, 52 carpreau, jean, 187 cathedral of antwerp, 41 " of bruges, 41 " of brussels, 41 " of ghent, 41 " of malines, 18-19, 41, 42 " of ypres, 69, 73 charlemagne, 134-136 charles the bold, 25, 76, 81 charles the eleventh, 119 charles the fifth, 18, 130, 165 cloth hall, the, ypres, 69, 72-75, 78, 80, 81 commines, philip of, 86 cossiers, i., 24 coxie, jean, 185 " jean michel, 185 " michel, 184 " michel le jeune, 184 " michel the third, 185 " michel the fourth, 185 " raphaël, 185 counts' chapel, the, courtrai, 121 courtrai, the counts' chapel, 121 the hall of the magistrates, 129 the town hall, 129 cuyp, 36, 102 de gruyter, jean, 185 de hornes, jacques, 191, 193 deklerk, 44, 45 de poindre, jacques, 187 de vos, lambert, 188 douai, hôtel de ville, 157, 160 douai bible, the, 158 dyle, the river, 21, 26, 152 elle, ferdinand, 192 franchoys, luc, 189 " luc le jeune, 190, 192, 193 " pierre, 190 franco-prussian war, the, 206 furnes, hôtel de ville, 173 ghent, the carillons of, 52 gild of st. luke, the, 181 gothic architecture, styles of, 90 great wars of flanders, the, 86 hall of the magistrates, the, courtrai, 129 hals, frans, 141, 190 hanseatic league, the, 69 hanswyk, the tower of our lady of, malines, 26 haweis, 41, 43, 49, 50 hemony, 42, 49 henry the first, 152 herregouts, david, 191 hoogenbergh, jean, 186 hôtel de ville of alost, 111 " " " of douai, 157, 160 " " " of furnes, 173 " " " of louvain, 147, 149 150 " " " of oudenaarde, 164 " " " of ypres, 73 huet, 87, 89 hunin, matthieu joseph charles, 194 " pierre paul aloys, 194 hugo, victor, 52 ingelrams, andré, 187 " corneille, 187 inghelbrugtorre, courtrai, 119 inquisition, the spanish, 68 jansenius, cornelius, bishop of ypres, 73, 80 janssens, daniel, 193 joffroy, jean barthelemy, 193 jordaens, 141 jube, at st. martin's, dixmude, 55, 57-59, 62, 79 keldermans, 17, 18, 130 knights of the golden fleece, 36 knights templar, the, 99, 101 la panne, 74, 207 la pla, jacques, 193 leopold of saxe-coburg, king of belgium, 203, 204, 205 leopold the second of belgium, 207 le saive, jean, 190, 193 library, the, bruges, 43, 171 brussels, 43 louvain, 43, 49, 150 lion of flanders, the, 22, 28 louis of maele, 66, 67 louis of nevers, 76 louis philippe, 203, 205 louis the eleventh, 157 louis the fourteenth, 158 louvain, church of st. peter, 147, 152 carillons of, 52 hôtel de ville, 149 library, 149 loyola, ignatius, 21 luther, martin, 21 lys, the river, 119, 120, 122-123 malines, carillons of, 52 cathedral of, 18-19, 41, 42 st. rombauld, 17, 19, 22, 26, 37, 44 margaret of artois, 76 " of austria, statue of, 22 " of parma, 165 " of york, 25, 76 " the courageous, the legend of, 150-153 marguerite of flanders, 152 " of savoie, 18 mary of burgundy, 165 matsys, quentin, 149 memling, 85, 148, 149 mercier, cardinal, primate of belgium, 21, 167 moertens, thierry, 112 museum of decorative arts, the, brussels, 76, 149 mysteries of the passion, the, 175 nemours, duc de, 202 nieuwerck, ypres, 70, 73, 77 notre dame, the church of, courtrai, 121 opdebeek, antoine, 194 oudenaarde, church of st. walburga, 165 " hôtel de ville, 164 " town hall, 17, 165 philip of alsace, 119 " of savoie, 18 " the second of spain, 85, 101 place de la boucherie, 25 quesnoy, jerome due, 24 redel, august casimir, 193 rembrandt, 141 rubens, 113, 141, 173, 190 ruskin, 28, 42 st. martin's, cathedral of, ypres, 73, 77, 78, 79 " church of, alost, 113, 114 " church of, dixmude, 55, 56, 57, 60 st. mary bells, in antwerp cathedral, 44 st. nicholas, church of, furnes, 99, 171 st. peter, church of, louvain, 147, 152 st. pierre, tower of, ypres, 80 st. rombauld, malines, chimes of, 19, 22 " " spire of, 17 " " tower of, 26-37, 44 st. walburga, church of, oudenaarde, 165, 174-176 st. winoc, the abbey of, bergues, 95 sainte begga, 23, 121 salvator bell, the, 20, 48 scheldt, the river, 133, 204, 205 smeyers, egide joseph, 192 " gilles, 192 " jacques, 192 snellinck, jean, 188 speytorre, the, courtrai, 119 stevens, pierre, 189 taillebert, d'urbain, 79 thierry d'alsace, 65, 85 toeput, louis, 188 tournai, town hall, 52 tower of the templars, the, nieuport, 99, 101 town hall of brussels, 17 " " of courtrai, 129 " " of dixmude, 56 " " of louvain, 17 " " of oudenaarde, 17 " " of tournai, 52 trabukier, guillaume, 184 untenhoven, martin, 78 van aken, sebastian, 193 van artevelde, family of, 36 " " philip, 66, 86 van avont, pierre, 189 " " rombaut, 189 van battele, baudouin, 183 " " gautier, 183 " " jean, 183 " " jean le jeune, 183 van den gheyn, family of, 20, 33, 42, 44, 45, 158 " " " mathias, 147 " " " peter, 48 van dyck, 133 van eyck, jean, 79 van halter, catherine, 24 van ophem, jean, 186 van orley, bernard, 184 van orshagen, jean, 183 van steynemolen, zacherie, 184 van thieleu, jean philippe, 192 van valckenborgh, luc, 188 " " martin, 189 van yleghem, daniel, 183 van yper, carel, 80 vauban, 65 verbeek, françois, 186 " hans, 186 vereeke, 65, 70 verhaegan, p.j., 150, 153 verhoeven, jean, 191 " martin, 191 verhulst, pierre antoine, 194 ver vloet, jean, 195 vinckboons, maur, 184 " philip, 189 waghemans, family of, 20 waterloo, the battle of, 206 willems, marc, 187 william the first of holland, 199, 201, 204 ypres, the beguinage, 82 the cathedral of, 69, 72 the cloth hall, 69, 73, 74, 75, 78, 80, 81 the hôtel de ville, 73 yser, the river, 55, 62 zeelstman, 19 footnotes: [1] those who are interested in the subject are referred to c. lemonnier's "histoire des beaux arts en belgique" (brussels, 1881), e. hessling's "la sculpture belge contemporaire" (berlin, 1903), destree's "renaissance of sculpture in belgium," crowe and cavalcaselle's "early flemish painters" (1857). [2] this passion play is described in detail in "some old flemish towns." (same author. moffat, yard & co., new york, 1911.) [3] see "some old flemish towns." [4] the list is drawn in part from the "_histoire de la peinture et de la sculpture à malines_," _par emmanuel neefs_--gand, van der heeghen, 1876, translated from the manuscripts composed in latin by the painter egide joseph smeyers, malines, 1774. [5] the author refers the reader to "the constitution of belgium," j.m. vincent, phila., 1898; "belgium and the belgians," c. scudamore, london, 1904; "history of belgium," d.c. boulger, london, 1900; "the story of belgium," c. smythe, london, 1902. _uniform with this volume_ christmas tales of flanders with plates in colour and many black and white illustrations by jean de bosschère "this handsome and well-illustrated book is one of the most attractive we have seen this season. it gives us renderings of the popular fables and legends current in flanders and brabant which have a colour and quaintness of their own, yet combines adventures with an unobtrusive and so more effective moral."--_saturday review._ "there are delightful stories; even more attractive than the letterpress are m. de bosschère's illustrations. conceived with inexhaustible fancy, full of quaint detail, and set down with a fascinating naïveté they embody the characters and scenes of the tales with a fullness of particularism that should provide endless entertainment to youthful readers. they are the best and most complete series of designs yet produced by the artist."--_connoisseur._ "the illustrations by jean de bosschère are of a droll fancy. the artist has a notable power of the grotesque, and both in colour and black and white he uses it."--_daily telegraph._ london: william heinemann folk tales of beasts and men [illustration] [illustration: "he tore a rib from his side and cut off my ear" [_see page 21_]] beasts & men folk tales collected in flanders and illustrated by jean de bosschère [illustration] london · william heinemann new york · dodd, mead & company _london: william heinemann, 1918_ [illustration] contents page ups and downs 1 the three monkeys 5 how the goldfinch got his colours 10 the cock and the fox 14 the most cunning animal 19 sponsken and the giant 22 why cats always wash after eating 40 the choristers of st. gudule 41 the trial of reynard the fox 50 the magic cap 83 sugar-candy house 91 poor peter 95 the peasant and his ass 103 the king of the birds 109 a drum full of bees 116 the drunken rooks 131 the battle of the birds and beasts 133 the end of the world 139 the reward of the world 147 one bad turn begets another 153 the peasant and the satyrs 159 the two friends and the barrel of grease 163 why the bear has a stumpy tail 168 the witch's cat 173 [illustration] list of illustrations in colour _facing page_ "he tore a rib from his side and cut off my ear" _frontispiece_ "i hope you will enjoy your drink. good-bye!" 2 all the birds were very proud of their appearance 12 "what else can i do!" asked chanticleer 44 the trial of reynard the fox 68 "you have merited death a hundred times" 80 jan and jannette 90 birds going to the race 112 the battle of the birds and beasts 132 an immense dragon lying by the water-side 148 the satyrs' village 160 "all you have to do is to sit on the ice" 170 in black and white page there he met mistress goat 1 the farmer put her in the fold 3 up and down 4 three friends 5 little james got pushed over the side 7 "pull, brother, pull, and we'll soon have him out" 8 he happened to look in the mirror 9 birds 10 the angel whose mission it was to colour the birds 11 he took a place among the most beautiful of them all 12 song of gratitude 13 the fox was not a little frightened 14 "don't go away, my dear friend," said the fox 17 "that is true," said the cock to himself 18 the soldier, the fox, and the bear 19 there was a flash, a loud report.... 21 the two heroes of the story 22 sponsken, the giant, and the princess 25 he tossed the bird into the air 27 "the three animals are a bear, a unicorn, and a wild boar" 28 the bear followed him into the hollow trunk 29 with a mighty crash he ran full tilt into the tree 31 sponsken, the princess, the giant 33 all the attendants fled at once 37 married a girl 39 the cat and the sparrow 40 "i've just been turned out of house" 41 "they laugh at me" 43 "hush!" said chanticleer 45 breaking the glass to smithereens 47 the robbers lost no time in decamping 49 the king 50 at the head of the procession marched chanticleer 53 the fox's château 55 the poor beast roared with pain 57 he immediately called a council of his ministers 59 "take me to this house" 61 "tybert and bruin are badly knocked about" 63 "and caused him to jump at least twenty feet into the air" 64 "i was mischievous and unruly" 67 "and pearls too?" she whispered 69 "i saw him stop at the foot of a great tree" 71 the conspiracy gained adherents every day 73 the suit of golden armour emrik wore 75 they walked in silence 77 reynard sprang at his throat 79 the king of that land caught him 82 calf and goat 83 "you were being made a fool of" 85 jan and the three students 87 twirled the cap round three times on his finger 89 and dipped them into the horse-trough 90 were carried safely over to the other bank 91 "gr-r-r, i'll eat them up!" 93 wolf's head 94 jaco peter and his friend 95 "smear yourself from head to foot" 97 reynard seized the opportunity to warn his friend 99 an exclamation of astonishment 100 away went the coaches 102 "oh dear me, that's twice!" 103 "hallo, my man," cried the lord 105 "i can't get up, because i'm dead!" 107 sent him sprawling from top to bottom of the stairs 108 the eagle and the kinglet 109 "is our king then only to be looked at?" 111 there was the sound as of a rushing mighty wind 113 he is known as the kinglet 115 donatus 116 there was a knot-hole in the wooden floor 119 "i did not hear you knock" 121 the swarm of bees within began to buzz about in great commotion 123 beating another tattoo upon the drum 124 the beadle, too, stumbled and fell 125 he had faithfully carried out all his instructions 127 it was the labourer dressed in the drummer's clothes 128 rode straight into a marsh 130 when the fifty rooks began to fly he could not get free 131 the rooks 132 fighting 133 the kinglet warned him to be very careful not to buzz 135 the great offensive began 137 the fox 138 the cat rushed out of the room 139 the cat, the dog, the cock, the rabbit, and the goose 141 "see if you can espy a house" 142 "jump on to my beautiful curly tail" 143 the other four got on to the dog's back 145 sent me flying through the air 146 the dragon 147 "my sight is so weak and my powers so feeble" 149 "does the dragon mind getting under the stone again?" 151 two foxes 152 nothing was left of the fishes 153 the biggest and fattest fish 155 stretched himself out at full length 156 "i willingly give you yours!" 158 "why are you blowing your soup?" 159 "there is no place in my house for a man who can blow hot and cold" 161 satyr 162 the two friends 163 "where has all our grease gone?" 165 begun, half-done, all-done 167 mrs. bruin and reynard 168 "after a time the fish will come to bite at it" 169 "one, two, three...!" 171 born with a little stumpy tail 172 margot and the cat 173 she meant to keep her there until she had grown bigger and fatter 175 paddling with her broom 177 he was really a prince 179 [illustration: there he met mistress goat] ups and downs the summer had been very hot. not a drop of rain had fallen for many weeks, and there was drought in the valley where the animals lived. the streams had dried up and the springs had ceased to flow. master fox took up his pipe and went out to take a walk under the lime-trees to think things over. there he met mistress goat, all dressed up in her sunday clothes. "good morrow, cousin," said he. "you are very fine to-day." "yes," she answered, "i put on my best dress because it helps me to think. what we are to do for water i do not know. we have finished all that we had in the barrel, and unless we can find some more very quickly i and my children will die of thirst." "to tell you the truth," said the fox, "i was thinking the same thing. i am so dry that my tongue is sticking to the roof of my mouth, and i cannot even smoke my pipe with pleasure. what do you say to going together in search of water? four eyes are better than two, any day in the week." "agreed," said the goat; and away they started together. for a long time they looked everywhere, but not a trace of water could they find. all of a sudden the goat gave a cry of joy, and running up to her the fox saw that she had discovered a well, on the brink of which she was standing gazing at the cool water far below. "hurrah!" cried the fox. "we are saved!" "yes," answered the goat, "but see how far down the water is! how are we to get at it!" "you just leave that to me," said the fox. "i know all about wells--i've seen them before. all one has to do is to get into the bucket which is hanging by the rope and descend as smoothly and as safely as you please. i'll go first, just to show you the way." so the fox got into the bucket, and the weight of him caused it to descend, while the empty bucket at the other end of the rope rose to the top of the well. a minute afterwards he was at the bottom, leaning over the side of the pail and greedily lapping up the water. nothing had ever tasted so delicious. he drank and drank until he could hold no more. "is it good?" cried mrs. goat from above, dancing with impatience. "it is like the purest nectar!" answered the fox. "get into the bucket quickly and come down and join me." so the goat stepped into the bucket, which immediately began to descend with her weight, while at the same time the bucket with master fox in it began to rise to the surface. the two met half-way. "how is this?" asked mrs. goat in surprise. "i thought you were going to wait for me!" [illustration: "i hope you will enjoy your drink. good-bye!"] "ah, my dear friend," answered reynard with a wicked grin, "it is the way of the world. some go up and some go down. i hope you will enjoy your drink. good-bye!" [illustration: the farmer put her in the fold] and as soon as he got to the top he jumped out of the bucket and ran off at top speed. so poor mrs. goat had to stay there at the bottom of the well until the farmer came and found her, half dead with cold. when at last she was rescued she found that she had only exchanged one prison for another, for the farmer put her into the fold with his own sheep and goats, and so she lost her liberty for ever. [illustration] [illustration: three friends] the three monkeys there were once three monkeys who were going for a voyage in a balloon. (this was in monkey-land, far, far away and ever so long ago.) the three were so much alike that it was impossible to tell one from the other, and to make matters worse each of them answered to the name of james. such a thing would never do in the crew of a balloon, so the old monkey who was in command decided that each of the three should have a different name. the first was to be called james, the second jemmy, and the third little james. so far so good. the three monkeys climbed into the balloon, the ground ropes were untied, and the voyage was begun. when they had reached a height of some hundreds of feet, the captain wished to give an order, so he called to the first monkey: "james!" "aye aye, sir," said all the three, running up to him. "i called james," said the captain, looking from one to the other. "well, i am james," answered the first monkey. "no, no. james is my name," said the second. "and mine too," said the third. "how can you be james if i am he?" cried the first angrily. "i tell you james is my name!" cried the second. "no, mine!" and so the three monkeys began to quarrel and dispute. words led to blows, and soon they were tumbling about all over the car of the balloon, biting, scratching, and pummelling while the captain sat in his chair and bawled to them to stop. every minute it seemed as though the car would overturn, and the end of it was that little james got pushed over the side. he turned a beautiful somersault, and fell down, down, down through the air, landing in a soft bed of mud, into which he sank so that only his face and the top of his yellow cranium were visible. "help! help!" bawled little james at the top of his voice. up ran a pair of monkeys belonging to the neighbourhood and stood looking at him. "he's in the mud, brother," said one. "up to his neck," said the other. "how silly!" and they both began to grin. "help!" cried little james again, more faintly, for he was sinking deeper, and the mud was nearly at the level of his mouth. "pull me out! pull me out!" "ah, but how?" asked the first monkey, looking at him gravely. "wait a minute," cried the second, "i have an idea!" and he pulled out of his pocket one of those leather suckers on a string which boys use to lift stones. moistening the disc, he clapped it on to little james's head, and began to tug on the cord with all his might. "hey!" cried the other monkey, running to help. "pull, brother, pull, and we'll soon have him out!" [illustration: little james got pushed over the side] _crack!_ the cord snapped suddenly, and the two monkeys tumbled head over heels. never mind; they got another cord to repair the damage, and this time they succeeded in pulling little james clear of the mud. did i say little james? alas! it was only half of him! his rescuers had pulled so hard that he had broken off short in the middle, and his two legs were left embedded in the mud. [illustration: "pull, brother, pull, and we'll soon have him out"] "dear me!" said the first monkey, scratching his head. "this is very sad. the poor fellow has lost his legs. what shall we do?" "let us make him some wooden ones!" said the other. so said, so done. they made him a beautiful pair of wooden legs, and little james hobbled painfully home. by the time he reached his house he felt so ill that he went straight to bed. "i believe i am going to die," he said to himself. "i must make my will and set down the cause of my death." so he sent for pen and paper and began to write. before very long, however, he stopped and began to scratch his head in perplexity. "if i am going to die," he thought, "i must be going to die of something! now, what am i going to die of? this must be carefully considered, for above all one must write the truth in one's last testament!" so he pondered and pondered, but he could not make up his mind as to the cause of his death. was he going to die of the fall from the balloon, or of his broken legs, or what? just then he happened to look in the mirror by the bedside, and saw that there was a lump on his forehead, which he had got while fighting with james and jemmy in the balloon. "why, of course," cried he, "i am going to die of that big bruise on my forehead!" so he wrote it down in his will, and then, happy at having solved the difficulty, turned over on his side and died. and, as i said before, this all took place in monkey-land, ever so long ago. [illustration] [illustration: birds] how the goldfinch got his colours when the angel whose mission it was to colour the birds had finished his work, he began to scrape his palette and to make ready for departure. he had done his task well, for the plumage of the feathered creatures all around him glowed with a thousand glorious colours. there was the lordly eagle, arrayed in a robe of golden brown. the peacock had a tail of shimmering blue and green that looked as if it were studded with precious stones. the crow's black coat shone in the sun with a kind of steely radiance, very wonderful to behold. the canary was as yellow as a buttercup; the jay had a spot of blue sky on either wing; even the humble sparrow wore a handsome black neck-tie; while chanticleer, the cock, was resplendent in yellow, black, and red. all the birds were very proud of their appearance, and they strutted about here and there, gazing at their reflections in the water and calling upon their neighbours to come and admire their beauties. [illustration: the angel whose mission it was to colour the birds] alone among the birds the little goldfinch took no part in the rejoicing. somehow or other the angel had overlooked him, so that he remained uncoloured, a drab little creature, in his sober grey dress, among the gaily clothed throng. more than once he had tried to draw the angel's attention to himself, and now, seeing him cleaning his palette in readiness to depart, he stepped forward and said: "have pity on me, good angel, and paint my plumage as you have painted that of the others, so that i may walk among them unashamed. i have nothing to commend me--no beautiful song like the nightingale or the throstle, no grace of form such as the swallows have. if i am to go unadorned, nothing remains for me but to hide myself among the leaves." [illustration: he took a place among the most beautiful of them all] then the angel took pity on the little creature, and would gladly have painted him with glowing colours, but alas, he had scraped his palette clean. therefore he took up a brush, and going from bird to bird took from each a spot of colour, which he laid upon the goldfinch, blending a score of brilliant hues with marvellous skill. when he had finished, the tiny bird was transformed, and from being the saddest in that brilliant company he took a place among the most beautiful of them all. [illustration: all the birds were very proud of their appearance] it is not possible, by means of words, to describe the beauty of the colouring which the angel gave to the goldfinch, but you may see him any day you like, sitting on a thistle, and chirping his song of gratitude and praise. [illustration] [illustration: the fox was not a little frightened] the cock and the fox this is the story that the old woman who was called tante sannie told to the little boy who would always be talking: a long time ago (she said) there lived in a farmyard a cock who was very proud of himself, and with reason, too, for he was, indeed, a plump and handsome bird. nothing could have been finer than his appearance when he strutted through the yard, lifting his feet high as he walked, and nodding his head at each step. he had a magnificent comb of coral-red, and blue-black plumage streaked with gold, which shone so brilliantly when the sun flashed on it that it was a joy to see him. no wonder that his twenty wives gazed at him admiringly and followed him wherever he went, and were quite content to let him hustle them about and gobble up all the fattest worms and the finest grains of corn. if this cock was proud of his appearance, there was one thing of which he was even prouder, and that was his voice. he was a famous songster; he could crow you high and he could crow you low; he could utter tones as deep as the pealing of the organ in church or as shrill as the blast of a trumpet. every morning, when the first streak of dawn appeared in the sky, he would get down off his perch, raise himself on his toes, stretch out his neck, close his eyes and crow so loudly that he roused people who were sleeping in the next parish. and this he loved to do, because it was his nature. now in the forest close to the farmyard there lived a fox who had often gazed with longing eyes upon the plump and handsome bird. his mouth watered every time he thought of him, and many were the artful tricks he played to try and catch him for his dinner. one day he hid himself among the bushes in the garden by the farmyard and waited patiently until the cock happened to stray his way. after a time the bird came along, pecking here and pecking there, wandered through the gate into the garden, and made straight for the bush under which master fox was hidden. he was just going to run into the bush after a butterfly which was fluttering about, when he caught sight of reynard's black snout and cunning, watchful eyes, and with a squeak of alarm he jumped aside, just in time, and hopped on to the wall. at this the fox rose to his feet. "don't go away, my dear friend," said he in honeyed tones. "i would not for the world do you any harm. i know that it is my bad fortune to be disliked by your family--i can't for the life of me think why, and it is a pity, because i have to hide myself for the pleasure of hearing you sing. there is no cock in all these parts has such a magnificent voice as yours, and i simply do not believe the stories they tell about you." "eh, what is that?" said the cock, stopping at a safe distance and looking at the fox with his head on one side. "what do they say?" "why," reynard went on, edging a little nearer, "they tell me that you can only crow with your eyes open. they say that if you were to shut your eyes, that clarion call of yours would become only a feeble piping, like the clucking of a new-born chick. but of course i don't believe them. any one can see they are merely jealous." "i should think so," cried the cock, bristling with anger. "crow with my eyes shut, indeed! why, i never crow in any other way. just look here--i'll prove it to you!" and he raised himself on his toes, stretched out his neck, closed his eyes, and was just going to crow, when, _snap!_ the fox sprang upon him and caught him in his teeth! then began a great to-do! the poor cock flapped his wings and struggled as the fox ran off with him. the hens ran about the yard clucking and squawking, and the noise they made alarmed the farmer's wife, who was cooking in the kitchen. out she came running, with the rolling-pin in her hand, and, seeing the fox with the cock in his mouth, gave chase, shrieking as she ran. the farm-hands tumbled out of barn and byre armed with pitch-forks, spades, and sticks. all the beasts began to raise a clatter, and what with the shouting of the men, the squealing of the pigs, the neighing of the horses, and the lowing of the cows, to say nothing of the clucking of the hens and the old woman's screaming, one would have thought the end of the world was at hand. the fox was not a little frightened by all this clatter, but he was not so frightened as the cock, who saw that only cunning would save his life. "they will catch us in a minute," he said to the fox, "and, as likely as not, we shall both be killed by a single blow. why don't you call out and tell them i came with you of my own accord?" "a good idea," thought the fox, and he opened his mouth to call out to his pursuers, thereby loosening his grip on the cock's neck. then, with a squirm and a twist and a flutter of his wings, the wily bird wrenched himself free and flew up to the branches of a tree near by. [illustration: "don't go away, my dear friend," said the fox] the fox cast a look at him and saw that he was out of reach; then he glanced over his shoulder at his pursuers, who were getting perilously near. "it seems to me," he said, grinning with rage, "i should have done better to hold my tongue." "that is true," said the cock to himself as he smoothed his ruffled feathers. "and i would have been better advised to keep my weather-eye open." [illustration] [illustration: the soldier, the fox, and the bear] the most cunning animal one day the fox and the bear began to argue as to which was the most cunning animal. the bear said that he thought foxes and bears took first place. "you are wrong, my friend," said reynard. "we are clever, you and i, but there is one animal that is as far above us as we are above the rest of creation." "oh, indeed," sneered the bear, "and what is the name of this marvellous creature?" "he is called the man-animal," answered reynard, "and he goes on two legs instead of four, which is a wonderful thing in itself. here are some of the cunning things he can do; first, he can swim in the water without getting wet; when he is cold he makes yellow flowers grow out of sticks to warm himself; and he can strike at an enemy a hundred yards away!" "i do not believe you," answered the bear. "this is a fairy-tale you are telling me. if such a creature as the man-animal really exists, it is very strange that i have never seen him!" "strange, indeed!" grinned the fox, "but soon remedied. would you like to see the man-animal?" "it would be a sight for sore eyes," said the bear. "very well," said the fox, "come along with me." and he led the bear through the forest until they came to a road leading to a village. "now, then," said he, "let us lie down in the ditch and watch the road, and we shall see what we shall see." presently a child from the village came along. "look! look!" whispered the bear. "an animal walking on two legs! is this the creature we seek?" "no," answered the fox, "but one of these days it will become a man-animal." shortly afterwards there came along an old woman, all bent and wrinkled. "is that one?" asked the bear. "no," said the fox again, "but once upon a time that was the mother of one!" at last there came the sound of brisk footsteps on the road, and peeping out between the bushes the bear saw a tall soldier in a red coat marching towards them. he had a sword by his side and a musket over his shoulder. "this must surely be the man-animal," said the bear. "ugh! what an ugly creature! i don't believe he is cunning in the least!" but the fox made no answer, for at the first sight of the soldier he had fled into the forest. "well, well," muttered the bear, "i don't see anything to be afraid of here. let us have a talk with this wonder!" and hoisting himself clumsily out of the ditch he lumbered along the road to meet the soldier. "now then, my fine fellow," he growled, "i have heard some wonderful stories about you. tell me...." but before he could get another word out of his mouth the soldier drew his sword and struck him such a shrewd blow that he cut off his ear. "wow!" cried the bear, "what's that for? tell me...." but then, seeing the gleaming steel flash once again, he turned tail and ran off as fast as he could go. just as he reached the edge of the wood, he looked backward and saw the soldier raise his gun to his shoulder. there was a flash, a loud report, and the bear felt a terrific blow against his side. down he went like a ninepin, but fortunately for him the bullet had merely glanced off his hide, and he was not seriously hurt. picking himself up, he lost no time in gaining the shelter of the trees, and presently came limping painfully to the place where the fox was waiting for him. "well, my friend," said reynard, "did you see the man-animal? and what did you think of him?" "you were right," answered poor bruin sadly. "he is certainly the most cunning creature in the world. i went up to speak to him and he tore a rib from his side and cut off my ear. then i ran away, but before i could reach the trees he picked up a stick and pointed it at me. then there came thunder and lightning, and a piece of the earth heaved itself up and knocked me spinning! beyond all doubt the man-animal takes the palm for cunning, but i never want to see him again, for i shall carry the marks of our first meeting to my dying day." and reynard grinned, and said: "i told you so!" [illustration] [illustration] sponsken and the giant there was once a lad whose face was so badly pitted by the smallpox that everybody called him sponsken, which means little sponge. from the very day of his birth sponsken had been a great cause of anxiety to his parents, and as he grew older he became more trouble still, for he was so full of whims and mischief that one never knew where one had him. he would not learn his lessons, nor work at any serious task for ten minutes on end. all he seemed to think of was cutting capers and playing practical jokes on people. at last, in despair, his parents told their trouble to the village sexton, who was a great friend of the family, and often came to smoke his pipe with sponsken's father in the chimney corner. "don't worry, my friends," said the sexton. "i've seen young men like your son before, and they are quite easy to manage if one only goes about it the right way. just leave him to me. what he wants is a good fright, and i'll make it my business to see that he gets it." so far so good. sponsken's parents were only too glad to fall in with any plan which seemed likely to reform their unruly son, so the sexton went off to make his arrangements. that night he whitened his face with flour, covered himself in a white sheet, and hid behind a tree on a road along which he knew sponsken would have to pass. it was the dark of the moon, and the place the sexton had chosen was very lonely. for a long time he waited; then, hearing sponsken coming along whistling a merry tune, he sprang out suddenly from behind his tree and waved his arms in a terrifying manner. "hallo!" said sponsken. "who are you?" the sexton uttered a hollow groan. "what's the matter?" said the boy. "are you ill? if you can't speak, get out of my way, for i am in a hurry." the sexton groaned again, louder than before, and waved his arms wildly. "come, come," cried sponsken, "i can't stay here all night. tell me what you want at once and let me pass." then, as the ghostly figure made no answer, he struck it a blow with the stout ash-stick which he carried, and the poor sexton fell, stunned, to the ground. sponsken stayed long enough to take a glimpse of the ghost's face and to recognize the features of the sexton beneath the flour; then he went on his way homeward, whistling as merrily as before. when he reached home his parents gazed at him uneasily. they were very anxious about the success of their friend's plan, but sponsken did not look at all like a lad who had been frightened--quite the contrary in fact, for he drew his chair up to the table and set to work upon his supper with an excellent appetite. "a funny thing happened to me to-night," he said carelessly between two bites of an onion. "as i was walking along the lonely road by the cemetery a white figure jumped out at me." "a wh-white figure!" stammered his father. "how terrifying! and what did you do, my son?" "do?" said sponsken cheerfully. "why, i fetched him a crack on the skull with my staff. he went down like a ninepin, and i warrant he won't try to frighten travellers again!" "base, ungrateful boy!" cried his father, rising to his feet. "it was my dear friend jan the sexton you struck. all i hope is that you have not killed him." "well, if i have, it is his own fault," answered sponsken. "he should not play tricks on me." but his father continued to rage and grumble so long that sponsken got tired of hearing him at last, and flung off to bed in a sulk. "i'll stand no more of this," he said to himself. "since my own people do not appreciate me, i'll go out and seek my own fortune in the world, and they may go on as best they can." the next morning, therefore, having packed a loaf of bread and a piece of cheese in a bag, sponsken set off on his travels, telling nobody where he was going, and taking nothing else with him except a sparrow which he had tamed and kept since it was a fledgling. after walking for a long time he came to a forest, and feeling rather tired he sat down on the trunk of a fallen tree to rest. now in this forest lived a giant who was the most hideous creature one could possibly imagine. from his forehead jutted a pair of horns; his features were more like those of a beast than a man, and his finger-nails grew long and curved like the claws of a wild animal. the giant considered himself lord of the whole wood, and was very jealous lest anybody should enter his domain. when, therefore, he saw sponsken he was very angry, and having pulled up a young tree by the roots to serve him as a club, he approached the young man, who was sitting with his eyes closed, and struck him a heavy blow on the shoulder. [illustration: sponsken, the giant, and the princess] in spite of appearances, sponsken was not asleep; he was far too wary a person to be caught napping under such conditions. as a matter of fact, he had seen the giant before the giant saw him, and he knew that his only chance of escape was to remain unperturbed and calm. when, therefore, the giant struck him on the shoulder, he opened his eyes sleepily, rubbed the place, and said with a yawn: "a pest on these flies! they bite so hard that a fellow can't sleep for them." "you shall sleep soundly enough in a minute!" muttered the giant, who was enraged at sponsken's nonchalance. "see how you like this!" and he gave the lad a blow on the other shoulder, harder than before. "there they are again!" cried sponsken, rubbing the place. "my word! they bite even harder on this side than on the other. it is time i was going!" and he rose from his seat, starting back with surprise as he affected to see the giant for the first time. "so it's you, is it?" he cried. "what do you mean by tickling me when i am trying to sleep? if i were not so kind-hearted i'd break your neck for you!" "have a care what you say," cried the giant. "do you know that i have the strength of twenty men and could crush you between my hands like a kitten?" "pooh!" said sponsken. "words are windy things. i have no doubt you could kill a whole regiment with your breath. but words won't go with me, my man; you must give me some proof of your prowess." "proof!" roared the giant. "see here! i can throw a stone so high into the air that it will not come down for a quarter of an hour." and he was as good as his word, for, picking up a large stone, he flung it with all his strength, and it was more than a quarter of an hour before it fell again at their feet. "can you match that?" asked the giant with a grin. "easily," said sponsken. "i will throw a stone so high that it will not come down at all!" bending to the ground he picked up a pebble and showed it to the giant, but very cleverly he managed at the last moment to exchange it for the sparrow which he carried in his pocket, and this he was able to do because the giant was rather short-sighted, and, if truth be told, slow-witted as well. [illustration: he tossed the bird into the air] "one, two, three!" cried sponsken, and he tossed the bird into the air, and of course it flew up and up and never came down at all. "well, well," said the giant, "i never saw such a thing as that in my life before. you are certainly a wonderful stone-thrower, little man. but can you do this?" and picking up another stone, he squeezed it so hard between his immense fists that he crushed it into a fine powder. "yes, that is hard to do," said sponsken, "but i think i can go one better. any oaf, if he be strong enough, can crush a stone to powder, but it requires skill as well as strength to wring the juice out of one. watch me!" so saying, sponsken adroitly slipped out his piece of cheese, and squeezed it until the whey dripped from between his fingers. [illustration: "the three animals are a bear, a unicorn, and a wild boar"] "marvellous!" said the giant. "i confess myself beaten. let us go into partnership, for there cannot be two others like us in the whole world." "willingly," answered sponsken, "but what are we to do?" "why, as for that," said the giant, "the king of this country has promised his daughter's hand in marriage, and a great treasure besides, to anybody who can destroy three ferocious beasts which are devastating his realm. it seems to me that this is a task we can quite well do together. you, with your quickness and skill, can trap the beasts, and i can kill them with my club. that done, we will divide the spoils." so it was agreed, and without wasting a moment the two took the wood together. before very long they reached the king's palace, and sent up a message by one of the lords in waiting that they would like to see his majesty. "and do you mean to tell me," asked the king, when he had heard the giant's tale, "that you can overcome the three fierce animals by the help of this ugly little pock-marked fellow." "hush! not so loud, for the love of heaven!" whispered the giant. "my friend is very touchy about his appearance, and if he hears you making such slighting remarks it is very likely he will bring the whole of your palace down about your head!" [illustration: the bear followed him into the hollow trunk] "you don't say so!" whispered the king in reply, glancing fearfully at the terrible little man. "well, you are at liberty to try your luck. the three animals are a bear, a unicorn, and a wild boar, and at present they are hidden in the wood close by. there you will find them, but take care of yourselves, for they have already killed scores of my men." "don't be afraid," answered the giant, "for us this is as easy as playing a game." after having partaken of a good meal the two made their way towards the wood in which the animals were hidden. "we must make a plan," said sponsken. "listen to what i propose. you go into the middle of the wood while i remain here on the outskirts; then when you drive the beasts out i will see that they do not escape." so it was arranged. the giant went forward into the wood, while sponsken remained outside, waiting to see what would happen. he had not to wait long, for presently there was a crashing and a tearing of undergrowth and a great bear came lumbering towards him. sponsken did not like the look of the creature at all, and decided to put as much space between them as possible. looking here and there for a refuge, he spied a big oak-tree, and quickly climbed its trunk and ensconced himself among the branches. unfortunately the bear had already seen him, and, raising himself on his hind legs with a dreadful roar, he rushed to the tree and began to climb. in another moment sponsken would have been lost, but by good chance the tree happened to be hollow, so without hesitation the lad let himself down into the trunk, and finding at the bottom a small hole which led to the open air, he was just able to wriggle through it and escape. the bear followed him into the hollow trunk, but the hole at the bottom was too small for him to get out by, and as there was hardly room to move inside the trunk, the angry creature had to stay where he was, waking all the echoes in the forest with his growling. the next minute the giant came running out of the forest. "have you seen the bear?" he cried. "i drove him towards you!" "don't worry," answered sponsken coolly; "i've shut him up in the tree there to keep him safe." the giant rushed to the tree and dispatched the bear with one blow of his great club. then, pulling out the carcass, he shouldered it, and the two went back to the palace, congratulating each other on the excellent beginning of their enterprise. there remained now the unicorn and the wild boar. next day sponsken and the giant went to the forest again, and since their first plan had been so successful, it was arranged that they should follow exactly the same course. the giant went into the depths of the wood to find the unicorn and drive him out, while sponsken remained on the borders to capture the animal when he came. this time the period of waiting was longer, and sponsken, leaning against the oak-tree, had almost fallen asleep when a clattering of hoofs awakened him, and he sprang aside just in time to escape the unicorn, who, breathing fire from his nostrils, charged down upon him. so great was the impetus of the beast's charge that he could not stop himself, and with a mighty crash he ran full tilt into the tree, driving his horn so far into the trunk that, although he pulled and struggled, he could not wrench himself free. [illustration: with a mighty crash he ran full tilt into the tree] when the giant came up, sponsken showed him the animal, which was quickly killed with a single blow of the club. "didn't i manage that affair well?" asked sponsken as they went back to the palace. "you are a wonder!" answered the giant, and he really believed what he said. now only the wild boar remained, and on the following day the two went to the forest to capture him also. once again the same plan was followed, but this time sponsken kept his eyes wide open, and when the ferocious beast broke cover he ran as fast as he could in the direction of the royal chapel. the wild boar followed him, and a fearsome creature he looked, i assure you, with his wicked little eyes and his great curved tusks and the hair on his back bristling like the quills of a porcupine. through the open door of the chapel sponsken ran, and the boar, snorting with fury, followed him. then began a fine chase, round and round the aisles, over the pews, and in and out of the vestries. at last sponsken seized a chair, and dashing it against a window broke several panes, and so made good his escape. while the boar was still standing stupidly staring at the hole through which he had gone out, sponsken ran round to the door, which he closed and locked. then, having broken one or two more panes of glass, he sat down quietly by the chapel wall and began to pare his nails. a short time afterwards the giant came rushing up. "where is the boar? have you let him get away?" he cried. "don't get so excited," answered sponsken. "the boar is safe enough. he's in the chapel there. i had no other place to put him, so i flung him through the window!" "what a wonderful little man you are!" said the giant gleefully, and he ran off to kill the boar with one blow of his club. this done, he hoisted the carcass on to his shoulders and took the road to the palace. half-way there the weight of the boar began to tell, for it was a massive beast, and the giant was forced to stay and rest. "it is all very well," said he, mopping his streaming brow, "but i think you ought to take a turn with me in carrying this carcass." "not i," answered sponsken. "we made an agreement that my work was done when i captured the beast, and i intend to keep to it." [illustration: sponsken the princess the giant] so the giant had to struggle on as best he could for the rest of the way, grumbling at every step, while sponsken followed, laughing up his sleeve, and exceedingly thankful that he had escaped the task. when they reached the palace the two presented themselves before the king and claimed the promised reward. but now a difficulty arose. it was quite easy to divide the treasure, but which of them was to have the princess? "i think it should be i," said the giant, "for i killed the three animals." "not at all," said sponsken. "the princess should be given to me, for i captured the beasts." "a lot of good your capturing them would have been if i had not killed them!" said the giant. "how could you have killed them if i had not caught them first?" answered sponsken. and so the two began to quarrel, and neither would give way, and high words passed between them. truth to tell, the king was not at all sorry that the dispute had arisen, for he did not very much relish the idea of his daughter marrying either the bestial giant or the pock-marked, ugly little fellow who was his companion. "there is only one way out of the difficulty," said the king at last. "we must let fate decide. listen to the plan i propose. you shall both of you sleep in the princess's chamber to-night--the giant in a bed on one side of her couch, and sponsken on the other. i also will remain in her chamber and watch her carefully. if she spends most of the night with her face turned towards sponsken, it shall be a sign that she is to marry him; if, on the other hand, she favours the giant, he shall be her husband; but if she sleeps all night with her face towards neither of you, then you must both give her up, and be satisfied with the treasure." so it was agreed, and that night the trial took place. sponsken, however, did not by any means intend that blind chance should settle so important a matter, and he spent the intervening time in making certain preparations. first of all he went to the palace gardens, from which he gathered certain herbs having an aromatic and beautiful perfume; these he placed in a bag and hid under his clothes. then from the woods he gathered all the herbs he could find which had a disagreeable smell, such as garlic and stinkwort and poisonous fungus; these also he placed in a bag, and seized an early opportunity, when they came to the princess's chamber, of hiding the bag under the pillow on which the giant's head was to rest. the princess well knew the fateful issue which was to be decided in the night, and as she had firmly made up her mind not to marry either the one or the other of her suitors, she determined to remain awake all night and to take care to keep her face turned towards the ceiling. for a time she managed to do so, but before long drowsiness overcame her, and she slept. presently she turned over on her left side and lay with her face turned towards the giant, who began to chuckle to himself. "wait a minute," thought sponsken. "i don't think the princess will keep that position long!" and sure enough, the horrible stench of the herbs in the bag beneath the giant's pillow penetrated even to her dreams, and the princess turned over hurriedly on the other side. what a change was there! instead of a disgusting smell which made her dream of gloomy caverns and noisome things, she found now a delicious perfume that brought pictures of sunlit gardens all glowing with flowers and bright-winged butterflies flitting over them. the princess gave a little sigh of content, and for the rest of the night she remained with her face turned towards sponsken, so that the king had no choice but to declare the little man the winner. the princess, however, refused to abide by the judgment. "i will _not_ marry that vulgar fellow," she cried. "i will die first! oh, father, if you love me, think of a means of escape!" "do not be afraid, my child," answered the king. "i will arrange something." and the next day he took the giant aside and proposed to him that he should rid him of sponsken, promising a rich reward for the service. the giant's greed was aroused, and being very jealous of his companion's success, he was the more ready to fall in with the king's suggestion. fortunately for himself, sponsken's quick wits made him suspicious. he guessed that some treachery was afoot, and in order to be prepared for emergencies he took a heavy hammer with him when he retired to bed at night. his suspicions were justified, for towards midnight the door of his room opened and the giant entered on tiptoe, carrying a heavy axe with which he intended to dispatch our friend. no sooner was his foot inside the door, however, than sponsken jumped out of bed and sprang at him, looking so fierce that the giant, who was a coward at heart, and had besides a healthy respect for his companion's powers, turned and fled in dismay. then sponsken lifted his heavy hammer and struck three resounding blows upon the floor. the noise awoke everybody in the palace, and servants, guards, and lords in waiting came flocking to the room to discover the cause. the king came last of all, a little anxious about the success of his fine plot, and when he found sponsken sitting up in bed, quite unharmed, his face fell. "what is the matter?" he stammered. "matter?" answered sponsken. "nothing very much! some person wandered into my room, so i just gave three taps with my fingers on the wall. it is lucky for you all that i did not strike the blows with my fist, for had i done so i am afraid there would have been nothing left of your palace but a heap of dust!" at these words everybody turned pale, and the king made haste to protest his undying friendship for his terrible guest. as for the giant, he was in such fear of encountering sponsken's resentment that he fled, and nobody ever saw him again. now the poor king did not know what to do, for his daughter still persisted in her refusal to marry sponsken, and he was torn two ways by love and fear. just at that time, however, a neighbouring monarch, who was an old enemy of the king's, declared war upon him, and this offered another opportunity for delay. calling sponsken before him, the king proposed that he should prove his valour by challenging the enemy king to mortal combat. sponsken agreed; but his fame had already been noised abroad, and the challenge was refused. "very well," said the king, who was at the end of his resources. "as my prospective son-in-law you ought to lead my armies into battle. i will place my own charger at your disposal, and i look to you to save my country from defeat." here was a pretty kettle of fish! sponsken had never ridden a horse in his life, and he had not the slightest knowledge of warfare. to make matters worse, the steed in question was a notoriously vicious brute who would allow nobody but his own master to mount him. already he had accounted for several grooms and stablemen, whom he had kicked to death. [illustration: all the attendants fled at once] sponsken commanded that the steed should be led to the borders of the forest and tied by the bridle to a tree. he had not the slightest intention of trying to mount the brute, and his plan was to wait until the attendants had gone away and then to slip off unobserved. fate, however, was too much for him, for hardly was the horse safely tied up than couriers came spurring along the road to say that the enemy king was advancing at the head of his army, and was at that very moment less than half a mile away. all the attendants fled at once, and sponsken himself was so overcome by terror that, without thinking what he was doing, he jumped upon the back of the steed, and, forgetting that it was tied to the tree, dug his sharp spurs into its side. the horse plunged and reared, champing at the bit and doing its best to dislodge sponsken from the saddle, but the lad clung on for dear life. at last, finding all its efforts unavailing, the horse dragged the tree up by the roots and charged forward in a straight line towards the advancing enemy. almost dislodged from his seat by the sudden jerk, sponsken stretched out his hand and grasped the branches of the tree, which swung in a terrifying manner at his side, promising every moment to hurl him from the saddle, and the result was that to the enemy army it appeared as though he were charging down upon them at full speed, bearing a tree as a club. filled with dismay at the terrifying sight, the soldiers of the enemy king fled in all directions and hid themselves in the woods and in the crevices of the rocks. sponsken rode on for the simple reason that he could do nothing else, right into the enemy's camp, where the steed came to a standstill and our hero was able to jump down from its back. entering the king's tent, he helped himself to all the documents and articles of value he could find; then, having cut the tree from the bridle, he remounted the horse, which was now quite tame and docile, and rode back to the palace. when the king heard that the enemy was routed he was overjoyed, and he recognized that a man who could perform such a feat single-handed was not to be treated lightly. his daughter, however, was still firm in her refusal to marry sponsken, and so the king made him an offer of half his kingdom if he would release him from his promise and allow the princess to go free. sponsken accepted his terms and married a girl who, although she was not a princess, was nevertheless very pretty. their wedding was celebrated with great pomp and they lived together very happily for the rest of their lives. [illustration] [illustration: the cat and the sparrow] why cats always wash after eating a long time ago a cat caught a sparrow, and licked his lips in anticipation of the delight he would feel in devouring it. after playing with it for a time, as cats will, he was going to eat it, when the sparrow spoke to him. "the emperor's cat," said the sparrow, "and all his family, never begin a meal without washing themselves first. everybody knows that such is the custom in polite society." "really," answered the cat, "well, i will do as the emperor's cat does!" and he let go the sparrow and began to wash his face. feeling itself free, the sparrow flew away, and alighted safely on the branch of a tree well out of reach. "it serves me right," muttered the cat, "for being so easily taken in." and ever since that time cats have always washed themselves after their meals. [illustration: "i've just been turned out of house"] the choristers of st. gudule the miller of sandhills had a donkey which had served him well in its time, but was now too old to work. the miller was a careful man, who did not believe in feeding useless mouths, so he decided that he would sell the donkey for the price of its skin. "i do not suppose i shall get very much for the wretched beast," he said, regarding poor greyskin as he stood with hanging head in his stall, "but i shall save the cost of his corn anyhow, and that is always something." left alone, greyskin reflected sadly upon the fate in store for him. "such is the way of the world," he thought. "when i was young and hearty nothing was too good for me; now i'm old and useless i am to be cast out. but am i so useless after all? true, i can no longer pull a cart to market, but i have a magnificent voice still. there must be a place somewhere for one who can sing as beautifully as i. i'll go to the cathedral of st. gudule, in brussels, and offer myself as a chorister." greyskin lost no time in acting upon his resolve, but left his stable immediately and set out on the road to brussels. passing the burgomaster's house he saw an old hound sitting disconsolately on the doorstep. "hallo, friend!" said he. "what is the matter with you? you seem very sad this morning." "the matter is that i am tired of life," answered the dog. "i'm getting old and stiff and i can no longer hunt hares for my master as i used to do. the result is that i am reckoned good for nothing and they grudge me every morsel of food i put into my mouth." "come, come, cheer up, my friend," said greyskin. "never say die! i am in a similar case to yourself and have just left my master for precisely the same reason. my plan is to go to the cathedral of st. gudule and offer my services to the master of the choir. if i may say so without conceit, i have a lovely voice--one must make the most of one's gifts, you know--and i ought to be able to command good pay." "well, if it comes to that," said the dog, "i can sing too. i sang a lovely song to the moon last night, and if you'll believe me, all the people in our street opened their windows to listen. i sang for quite an hour, and i'd have gone on longer if some malicious person, who was no doubt jealous, had not thrown an old boot at my head." "excellent," said greyskin. "come along with me. you shall sing tenor and i'll sing bass. we'll make a famous pair." so the dog joined company with greyskin, and they went on together towards brussels. a little farther down the road they saw a cat sitting on the rubbish-heap outside a miserable hovel. the creature was half blind with age, and had a face as long as a fiddle. "why, what is the matter with you?" asked greyskin, who had a tender heart. "matter enough," said the cat. "i've just been turned out of house and home, and all because i took a little piece of bacon from the larder. upon my honour, it was no bigger than a baby's fist, but they made as much fuss as though it had been a whole gammon. i was beaten, and kicked out to starve. if i could catch mice as i used to do, it would not matter so much, but the mice are too quick for me nowadays. they laugh at me. nothing remains for me but to die, and i hope it may be soon." [illustration: "they laugh at me"] "nonsense," said greyskin. "you shall live to laugh at all your troubles. come along with us and sing in the choir at st. gudule. your voice is a little too thin for my own taste, but you'll make a very good soprano in a trio. what do you say?" "you give me new hopes," answered the cat. "of course i'll join you," and so the three went on together. towards nightfall they arrived at a farmyard, on the gate of which a cock was crowing lustily. "hallo!" said greyskin. "what's all this about?" "i am singing my last song on earth," said the cock. "an hour ago i sang a song, although it is not my usual custom to crow in the afternoon, and as i ended i heard the farmer's wife say: 'hearken to chanticleer. he's crowing for fine weather to-morrow. i wonder if he'd crow so loudly if he knew that we had guests coming, and that he was going into the pot to make their soup!' she has a horrid laugh, that woman. i have always hated her!" "and do you mean to tell me," said greyskin, "that you are going to stay here quite contentedly till they come to wring your neck?" "what else can i do?" asked chanticleer. "join us, and turn your talents to account. we are all beautiful singers and we are going to brussels to offer ourselves as choristers at st. gudule. we were a trio before. with you we shall be a quartet, and that's one better!" chanticleer was only too glad to find a means of escape, so he willingly joined the party, and they once more took the road. a little while afterwards they came to a thick wood, which was the haunt of a notorious band of robbers. there they decided to rest for the night, so greyskin and the dog lay down beneath the shelter of a large beech-tree, while the cat climbed on to one of the branches, and chanticleer perched himself at the very top. from this lofty post he could see over the whole wood, and it was not long before he espied a light twinkling among the trees not far away. [illustration: "what else can i do?" asked chanticleer] [illustration: "hush!" said chanticleer] "there must be a house of some sort over there," he said to his companions. "shall we go and see? we may find something to eat." "or some straw to lie upon, at any rate," said greyskin. "this damp ground gives me rheumatics in my old bones." "i was just thinking the same thing," said the dog. "let us go." so the four choristers, led by the cock, walked in the direction from which the light came, and before long they found themselves in front of a little house, the windows of which were brilliantly lighted. in order to reach to the windows the animals made a tower of their bodies, with greyskin at the bottom and chanticleer at the top. now this house was the abode of a band of robbers, who, at that very moment, were seated before a table laden with all kinds of food. there they sat and feasted, and poor chanticleer's mouth watered as he watched them. "is there anybody inside?" asked the dog, who was impatient. "hush!" said chanticleer. "men! they're eating their dinner!" "i wish i was," said the dog. "what are they eating?" "all sorts of things--sausage, and fish...." "sausage!" said the dog. "fish!" said the cat. "and ever so many other delicacies," chanticleer went on. "look here, friends. wouldn't it be a fine thing if we could get a share of their meal? i confess that my stomach aches with hunger." "and mine too," said the dog. "i've never been so hungry in my life. but how are we to get the food?" "let us serenade them, and perhaps they'll throw us something as a reward," said greyskin. "music, you know, has charms to soothe the savage breast." this seemed such a good idea that the choristers lost no time in putting it into execution. all four began to sing. the donkey hee-hawed, the dog howled, the cat miaued, and the cock crowed. from the noise they made one would have thought that the heavens were falling. [illustration: breaking the glass to smithereens] the effect of this marvellous quartet upon the robbers was instantaneous. leaping from their seats, they ran from place to place in mortal terror, tumbling over one another, oversetting chairs and adding to the racket by their shrieks and cries. at that moment the cock fell against the window, breaking the glass to smithereens; the donkey gave the frame a push, and all the four precipitated themselves into the room. this was the last straw; the robbers could stand no more; half mad with fear they rushed to the door and fled into the forest. then our four choristers drew up to the table and set to work upon the food with which it was laden. their long walk had given them a good appetite, so that there was little left by the time they had finished. feeling drowsy after their meal, they then settled themselves to sleep. the donkey made himself a bed on a heap of straw in the yard; the dog stretched himself out upon the mat by the house door; the cat lay among the warm cinders on the hearth; and the cock perched upon the roof-top. a few minutes more and they were all fast asleep. meanwhile the robbers, who had retreated some distance into the forest, waited anxiously for something dreadful to happen. an hour passed by and there was neither sight nor sound to alarm them, so they began to feel a little ashamed of their cowardice. creeping stealthily nearer to the cottage, they saw that everything was still, and that no light was showing from the windows. at last the robber chief sent his lieutenant to spy out the land, and this man, returning to the cottage without mishap, found his way into the kitchen and proceeded to light a candle. he had no matches, but he saw two sparks of fire among the cinders on the hearth, so he went forward to get a light from them. now this light came from the cat's eyes, and as soon as puss felt the robber touch her, she sprang up, snarling and spitting, and scratched his face. with a scream of terror, he dropped his candle and rushed for the door, and as he passed the dog bit him in the leg. by this time the noise had awakened greyskin, who got upon his feet just as the man ran by, and helped him forward with a mighty kick, which sent him flying out into the roadway. seeing this, the cock on the housetop spread his wings and crowed in triumph, "cock-a-doodle-doo!" i wish you could have seen the way that robber ran! he covered the ground so quickly that he seemed like a flying shadow, and i am perfectly certain that not even a hare could have overtaken him. at last, panting for breath, he rejoined his comrades in the forest, who were eagerly awaiting his return. "well," cried the chief, "is the way clear? can we go back?" "not on any account," cried the robber. "there's a horrible witch in the kitchen. directly i entered she sprang at me and tore my face with her long claws, calling out at the same time to her creatures to come and devour me. as i ran through the door one of them buried his fangs in my leg, and a little farther on, in the yard, a great black monster struck at me with an enormous club, giving me a blow that nearly broke my back-bone. on the roof a little demon with wings and eyes that shone like coals of fire cried, 'stop him! eat him! stop him! eat him!' you may guess that i did not wait for more. it is a miracle that i have escaped with my life!" when they heard this terrible story the robbers lost no time in decamping, and such was their terror that they deserted the forest altogether and went away to another part of the country. the result was that our four friends were left to dwell in the cottage, where they lived happily for the rest of their lives, and as they had now everything they wanted, they quite gave up their idea of going to st. gudule. [illustration] [illustration: the king] the trial of reynard the fox i. how chanticleer the cock made complaint against reynard there was rejoicing among the animals, for it was said that reynard the fox--sly, spiteful reynard--had at last repented him of his misdeeds and resolved to lead a new life. such a thing was, indeed, very hard to believe, but nevertheless everybody said that it was true. certainly he was seen no more in his usual haunts, or about the court of king lion. the news went round that he had put on the robe of piety and had become a hermit, endeavouring to atone, by fasting and prayer, for all the sins of which he had been guilty. at the court of king nobel, reynard's change of heart was the one topic of conversation. a few of the animals frankly expressed their doubts of the sincerity of such a tardy repentance, but the majority were quite willing to accept it, for, as a rule, one believes what one wishes to believe. while the subject was still being eagerly discussed by the animals around the lion's throne, the sound of wailing was heard, and a strange procession was seen making its way towards the king's throne. at the head of the procession marched chanticleer the cock, dressed in the deepest mourning and sobbing miserably, with bowed head. behind him, borne by two hens, was a bier on which was stretched the headless body of a beautiful fowl, one of his daughters, and all the other hens of his family followed the bier, raising their voices to heaven in grievous lamentation. at this sad sight the whole court stood in amaze, and many of the animals wept in sympathy with the bereaved father, who advanced towards the king's throne, crying for justice. "whom do you accuse?" asked the lion. "whom should i accuse but that accursed reynard, the source of untold misery to me and mine? you know, o king, none better, how we have suffered from his cruelty in the past. the tale i now have to tell is a tale of wrong that would bring tears to the eyes of a stone image--a tale of treachery such as would abash the evil one himself, a tale so base that i can hardly bring myself to utter it!" "say on," said the king, "and rest content, for if what you say be true, the fox shall receive his due reward--i swear it by my crown!" "lord," continued chanticleer, "i had six sons and fourteen daughters. we all dwelt together in the farmyard, a peaceable and happy family. the rigours of the winter were spent; spring had come again with its flowers and perfumes. the sun shone brightly, and insects abounded in the farmyard. we dwelt in the midst of abundance; we were happy, and as we thought, safe, for the farmer's six faithful dogs guarded us from danger. alas, for our beautiful hopes! a few days ago reynard appeared--cruel, black-hearted reynard--and at one fell blow changed our happiness into misery. "this is how it all happened, sire. reynard came to the farmyard one fine morning and brought me a letter bearing your majesty's own seal. i opened it, and read that your majesty had commanded that all the animals should hence-forward live together in peace. a noble ordinance, sire, such as would make the world a beautiful place--were it not for villains. i gave the document back to reynard, expressing my joy at the news it contained, whereupon he said: 'my heart is full, cock, when i think of the cruelty with which i have treated you and your family in the past, but you need have no further fear, i have seen the error of my ways. henceforth my life shall be given up to repentance and prayer. i have renounced all worldly pleasures. even now i am on my way to a remote hermitage where, in fasting and solitude, i shall endeavour to atone for my sins.' "then the hypocritical wretch stretched his paw over my head and gave me his blessing and departed, reading his book of hours. "thinking no evil, and full of joy at the news, i called my children around me and cried: 'rejoice, my dear ones. no more will you live in daily terror of your lives. our noble king has given us his protection and has commanded the fox to leave us alone. reynard himself has just brought me the news, so i know it is true, and he himself has gone away to become a holy hermit!' "my children danced with glee when they heard my words, and i danced with them, o king! we danced in the farmyard and in the garden, and in the kitchen garden, for it was as though a black cloud had vanished from over us. [illustration: at the head of the procession marched chanticleer] "this was the very moment reynard had been waiting for. he had not gone far away--no farther in fact than the shelter of the wall by the kitchen garden, and as soon as we reached there, he rushed out, fell upon the finest of my daughters and slew her before my eyes. it all happened in a flash! we ran hither and thither, trying to escape, but all in vain. before we had gone a dozen steps the fox was among us again, and killed fifteen of my children. last night he returned, and slew her whose body now lies upon the bier. i have brought her here to show you, o king, that the sight of her corpse may strike pity into your heart, for i claim justice upon her murderer!" so saying, the cock bowed his head again and wept bitterly into his handkerchief, and pitiful sobs echoed from among the beasts around. even the king could hardly restrain his emotion. "a terrible tale, indeed," said he. "our hearts are heavy for you, cock, and it will go hard with this reynard when he falls into our hands!" then, addressing his courtiers, he asked for volunteers to go to the fox's retreat and bring the murderer to justice. for a time there was no response, for few of the animals relished the task, but at last the bear, who had an old grudge against reynard, offered to go. "leave this to me," said he. "if the fox won't come quietly, i'll drag him here by his tail. he shall not escape!" so the bear set off to find reynard, who had retreated to one of his châteaux--a veritable fortress--situated many miles away in the mountains at the very end of the kingdom. to reach it the bear had to travel over lonely paths, and through dark woods, where he lost his way a hundred times, but at length he arrived at reynard's house, only to find the massive door locked, and the walls so high that he could not climb them. ii. how bruin the bear was sent to bring reynard to court "open, in the name of the king!" cried bruin, hammering at the door. "come out, reynard! i have been sent to bring you up for trial. you have come to the end of your rope at last! open the door, i say, or i'll batter it down!" from his safe retreat in the very heart of the fortress reynard heard bruin's clamour. he stretched himself lazily and yawned. "now who is this pestilent fellow making such a din?" said he to his wife. "well, i suppose i'd better go and see." so he made his way through the labyrinth of passages which led from his burrow to the open air, and peeped through the crack of the door. there was bruin, hammering away at the massive oak, and roaring: "come out, reynard. come out and be hanged!" [illustration: the fox's château] "what! is that you, uncle bruin?" said reynard, opening the wicket. "you are in a noisy mood this morning. what is the matter?" "the matter is that the king has sent me to bring you to court," growled the bear. "and you had best come quietly, for i represent the law." "by all means," answered reynard, opening the door. "my word, but i'm glad to see you, uncle! and an ambassador, too--such an honour! how are you, and what sort of a journey have you had? very trying, i'm afraid. really it was a shame to impose upon your good nature and send you all this way!" so saying the fox led the way into his castle, keeping up a continual patter of talk, so that bruin could not get a word in edgeways. "i'm so sorry to have kept you waiting at the gate," reynard went on. "the fact is, i was dozing and did not hear you at first. i rarely sleep in the afternoon, but to-day i had such a heavy dinner that i felt extremely drowsy!" "what did you have?" asked the bear with interest. "oh, a simple meal enough. i am not rich, you know, and i have to eat what i can find. to-day it was a big comb of honey--not very much to my taste, but i was hungry and i ate it!" bruin pricked up his ears. "eh?" said he. "did you say honey?" "strange food for a fox, isn't it?" said reynard. "i wish i hadn't touched the stuff now, for, to tell you the truth, it's lying on my chest like a load of lead. i swear never to eat it again, although i know a place, not far from here, where there are immense quantities of it!" by this time bruin was all agog with excitement. "nephew," said he, laying his paw on reynard's shoulder, "show me the place where that honey is. my mouth is watering at the very thought of it. i love honey better than anything else in the world, and i'd give all i possess for a taste of it!" "you are joking, no doubt," said reynard laughingly. "how can any one like such stuff?" "joking, am i?" growled bruin. "just lead me to the honey and i'll show you whether i'm joking. i tell you i'd give my eyes and ears for a taste!" "well, if that's the case," said reynard, "you shall be satisfied. there's a carpenter not far from here who keeps bees, and from time immemorial his family have been noted for the excellence of their honey. i'll take you there, and i'm very glad to be able to render you this little service. in return, all i ask of you is that you will speak up for me when i come before the king." [illustration: the poor beast roared with pain] "of course i will," answered bruin. "let us go at once. i can hardly contain myself for impatience." reynard called upon bruin to follow him and led the way to the carpenter's yard. the afternoon was very hot, and the carpenter was taking a nap after dinner. his yard was empty and in the middle of it was the trunk of a great oak-tree which he had laid out ready to be cut up into planks. the trunk was split down the middle, and kept open by two wedges of wood. "here you are!" said reynard, going up to the tree-trunk. "this is the place where the carpenter keeps his honey. put your muzzle in and root it out from the bottom. don't eat too much!" "never fear," answered bruin. "i'll be moderate." and he plunged his head and his two front paws into the crack. the next moment reynard knocked out the wedges which kept the two halves of the trunk apart. they sprang together with the force of a steel spring, catching bruin firmly by the nose and paws. the poor beast roared with pain, making a din that echoed back like thunder from the mountains. the carpenter woke up from his slumber, and seizing an axe, ran out into the yard. his wife came tumbling out of the scullery with a broom in her hand, and people from the neighbouring village came running to see what all the noise was about. when they saw that the bear was a prisoner they fell upon him and began to belabour him with mighty blows, while the unhappy creature gave himself up for lost. maddened with pain, he redoubled his efforts to tear himself free, and at last succeeded in getting away, although he left most of the skin of his nose and paws behind. with the blood flowing from his muzzle, and his eyes shining red with rage, he made such a terrible picture that the people fled hither and thither, leaving him a free passage, and he limped off into the shelter of the woods, moaning and breathing out threats against his betrayer. from a safe distance reynard watched him go, with a malicious grin. "farewell, uncle bear," said he. "i hope you found the honey good!" iii. tybert's mission and how he fared king lion was furious when he saw the miserable state in which his ambassador returned. he immediately called a council of his ministers, to whom bruin related all that had happened. [illustration: he immediately called a council of his ministers] "this recreant must be punished," said the king when the tale was ended. "it is a disgrace to our kingdom that he remains at large. somebody else must go to bring him here. who shall it be?" after a good deal of discussion it was decided that tybert the cat should undertake the task, for he was reputed to be as cunning and artful as reynard himself. "do not be deceived by his wiles," said the king. "no doubt he will try to flatter you, or to play upon your weaknesses, but pay no attention to his words. you must take this mission very seriously and not allow yourself to be led aside by anything. on your head be it!" the cat promised to be very circumspect, and set off at once. he travelled quickly, and soon arrived at the door of reynard's castle, where he found the fox playing with his cubs on the grass, tumbling them over and over, and having fine fun. it was a touching spectacle of domestic bliss. reynard jumped to his feet when he saw tybert. "why, cousin," said he, "this is a pleasant surprise! what makes you desert the gaieties of the court for my poor home?" "i come in the king's name," answered the cat sternly. "he has sent me to bring you to court, where you are to answer for your revolting crimes. the bear returned yesterday, and the tale he told has stiffened the king's anger against you. i am to say that if you refuse to accompany me, your house shall be destroyed and your family wiped off the face of the earth!" "refuse," said reynard, "whoever thought of refusing? i am sure the king has no more obedient subject than i. as for that bruin, he is a bad subject, and i expect he has been telling a pack of lies about me. do i look as if i could do anybody any harm? as a matter of fact i spend all my time here in meditation and prayer. but come in, come in! you must have a meal, for you have had a long journey. to-morrow we will set out together." "it seems to me," said the cat, "that it would be better if we started at once." "nonsense, my dear fellow," said reynard. "it is bad to make a journey on an empty stomach. what difference will an hour or two make? we shall travel all the faster if we start in good condition." "well, there's something in that," said tybert, who, to tell the truth, was not sorry of an excuse to break a fast of many hours. "what have you got for dinner?" "what would you like?" asked reynard. "shall we say a comb of honey?" "bah!" cried the cat. "honey indeed! i loathe the stuff. now if you had a nice fat mouse...!" "happy thought," said reynard. "as it happens, i know a house close by where there are hundreds of mice, the fattest and sleekest creatures you ever saw in your life, and so tame that one can literally scoop them up by the score. i often catch a few myself when i am hungry and other game is scarce." [illustration: "take me to this house"] "take me to this house," said tybert. "tame or not, i'll catch the mice if they are there. i love the creatures." and he licked his lips and stretched out his paws. now reynard had spoken the truth when he said that he knew a house where mice abounded, and it was true also that he often went there--not in search of mice, but of chickens. the last time he had paid a visit he had found that the farmer had put a string noose over the hole by which he was used to enter, but fortunately for himself reynard had discovered it in time. towards this house he now led the unsuspecting tybert, and having shown him the hole, bade him enter and take his fill of the mice. tybert obeyed, but no sooner had he got his head through the hole than the trap was sprung, and there he was, caught. he gave a scream of pain and fear, and from behind reynard answered mockingly: "sing away, cousin. i love to hear your voice. but mind you don't frighten the mice!" then he took to his heels and ran back to his castle. a minute or two later the farmer, having heard the cat's miaulings, arrived armed with a heavy stick. "ah, you thief," he cried, "i've got you at last, have i?" and he began to lay the stick on the cat's back with all his might. tybert kicked and struggled, and managed at last to get free, but he was more dead than alive when he went limping back to the king's court. iv. how blaireau the badger brought reynard to trial "this is monstrous," said king nobel when he had heard tybert's piteous tale. "it is no use paltering any longer. we must burn this caitiff's castle about his ears." "one moment, sire," said blaireau the badger, who was a great friend of reynard's. "our ancient laws demand that any person accused of crime shall be called three times before extreme measures are taken against him. now reynard has only been called twice. i propose, therefore, that he be given one more chance to render himself peacefully before your majesty, and to defend himself. there are two sides to every story, and so far we have only heard one." "that is all very well," said the king, "but who will be the messenger? it seems to me that the experiences of the other two will be little encouragement for a third." "if no one else will go," answered blaireau, "i will go myself. reynard has been a very good friend of mine in the past, and i may be able to appeal to his better self." "i doubt it," said the king; "but go by all means, and bring him back if you can. should you fail, i will batter down his castle stone by stone." so blaireau went off on his mission, and arriving at the château, found reynard in the midst of his family. "look here, uncle," said he, "there must be an end to all nonsense. the king is at the end of his patience, and unless you obey his commands he is determined to stick at nothing with you. tybert and bruin are both badly knocked about, and the sympathy of all the animals is with them. but for my pleadings the king would have sent an army to burn your castle about your ears. be sensible now, and come back quietly with me. you have wits enough to defend yourself against all accusations and need not fear the issue. i tell you frankly, delay will be dangerous." [illustration: "tybert and bruin are badly knocked about"] "ah," said reynard, "if those others had only spoken to me as you have spoken, my dear nephew, things would have been very different. they were insolent and they paid the price, but nobody shall say that reynard the fox was impervious to good counsel. of course i will go with you--the sooner the better. i have no fear of being able to silence my calumniators. the king can't live without me--he knows it very well, and that fact alone will provide him with a good motive for giving me a free pardon." then reynard took a tender farewell of hermeline, his wife, and reynkin, his eldest son, and all the other children, and set off with blaireau towards the king's court. on the way reynard said: "my dear blaireau, this is a very solemn moment of my life! i cannot help feeling that i have not, perhaps, always lived as righteously as i might have done. it will relieve my mind somewhat if i might make confession of some of the most heinous of my crimes. will you hear me?" [illustration: "and caused him to jump at least twenty feet into the air"] "certainly," answered blaireau. "i am glad to hear you have a contrite heart, uncle. speak on by all means. confession is the first step towards repentance." "i have been a sad sinner," reynard went on. "my heart fails me when i think of all the misery i have caused! i weep for the poor bear, whose nose and paws are skinless because of me, and for the cat, who suffered a terrible beating at the hands of the farmer. then there was the wolf--did i ever tell you about the wolf?" "no," said blaireau, "you did not." "well," continued reynard, "the wolf and i were one day walking along the road when we came to a monastery. it was the time of evensong, and the sound of the bells made such a sweet music in the air that i felt my soul grow full of enthusiasm. 'ah,' said i, 'if i were only one of the monks in that monastery, with what joy would i sound the bells!' isengrim thought the idea a splendid one, and wished to carry it into practice, so, as he was not a monk, i took it upon myself to introduce him into the monastery at dead of night. there i tied him to the bell-rope and bade him pull, for the good of his soul. he pulled--ah, nephew, how enthusiastically he pulled! the bells rang as they had never rung before, and all the monks in the monastery came running to see what was the matter. isengrim would have run away if he could, but alas, i had tied him so firmly to the rope that he could not escape, and he got a sound beating for his pains. "another time, still under the influence of his monastic ideas, isengrim proposed to me that i should shave his head. i agreed, and when i had him in the chair, to my eternal shame be it said, i planted a burning firebrand on his pate, and caused him to jump at least twenty feet into the air. ah, i am a miserable sinner." and reynard broke into sobs and lamentations. "never mind," said blaireau consolingly, "since you are truly repentant, all will be forgiven you. see, there are the towers of the king's palace. we shall soon be there. get ready to make your speech of defence, for you will need all your eloquence this day." v. how reynard told the king of a hidden treasure when reynard arrived at the court he found all the animals assembled to witness his trial. king nobel sat on his throne, with the queen by his side, and very cold and stern was the glance which the monarch cast upon master fox as he stepped up and made his obeisance. "reynard," said the king, "you have been accused of crimes so many and so grievous that if only the half of all the accusations are true, you have merited death a hundred times. what have you to say?" reynard put a paw up to his face and brushed away a tear; then, with his voice broken with emotion, he answered: "my lord the king, i have been a miserable sinner, and there is nothing left for me to do but to cast myself upon your royal mercy. where king nobel sits, there justice and mercy sit also. i am sure of the one; therefore i make bold to plead earnestly for the other. perhaps, o king, i am not so bad as i have been painted. the tongues of enemies have uttered slanders before to-day, and brought upright men to ruin. all i ask, o king, is that you will let me state my case, and, when i shall have finished my tale, judge me according to my deserts. i will keep nothing back, for in this serious hour i wish to speak nothing but the naked truth. listen to me, o king, and let these others listen also. perchance the sad story of my wrongdoings, and of my gradual fall from righteousness, may be a lesson to many here, and by serving as an example help to keep them upon the strait and narrow path." "you have a glib tongue, reynard," said the king. "it has saved you before to-day, but this time the count is too serious to be hidden by a mist of words. yet speak on. the accused has a right to make his own defence, and that right i should be the last to deny, even to one forsworn and treacherous, as you have proved yourself to be." reynard sobbed aloud. "hard words, o king," said he, "and harder still because of the truth that is in them. i do not complain. meekly i bow the head and make confession of my sins." at this all the animals settled themselves comfortably to listen. the idea of reynard the fox confessing anything was so new that not one of them would willingly have missed a word. those of the animals who knew reynard well regarded him a little uneasily, but nobody broke silence. reynard remained for a time sobbing quietly with head bowed upon his paws, then, in a broken voice, he began to speak: [illustration: "i was mischievous and unruly"] "from my very earliest years, o king," said he, "i was mischievous and unruly. had there been anybody to give me counsel and guidance i might perhaps have outgrown the errors of my youth and become a worthy subject. unfortunately i fell into bad company, and, under the influence of evil companions went rapidly from bad to worse. isengrim the wolf was my friend in those early days. he it was who taught me to steal and to prey upon the defenceless creatures of the woods and fields. my first victim, i well remember, was a young lamb which had strayed from the fold. isengrim led me to her and persuaded me to kill her, and afterwards, in the same way, a goat and two young deer fell victims to my raging thirst for blood. soon not a hen-house, not a fold was safe from my depredations. i killed for the sake of killing, and that part of the meat which i could not devour i gave to the wolf, who was only too willing to take it, or hid it in certain holes and crannies in the wood." all the time that reynard had been speaking isengrim had been making frantic efforts to speak, but a glance from the king had kept him silent. now he could contain himself no longer. trembling with fury, he rose to his feet and cried: "lies! all lies, o king! will your majesty believe anything it pleases this slanderous dog to say?" "silence!" cried the king. "your turn will come later. for the present let the accused speak without interruption!" "thanks, o king," said reynard. "i can well understand the wolf's wrath when his connexion with so vile a creature as i is thus brought to light. yet i have sworn to tell the truth, and the truth i will tell without regard to persons. sorry as i am to say it, the wolf was not the only one to lead me into bad ways. among my companions of those early days were also the bear and the cat. they made me hunt for them when i was young, and such was their voracity that there was little left for myself, and i should have died of hunger were it not for the fact that i was fortunate enough to discover a hidden treasure!" "eh, what's that?" said the king. "did you say a treasure?" "aye," answered reynard, "a treasure of gold, my lord; so great a treasure that it would take your servants many days even to count it all. and not gold alone, but precious gems--diamonds of the purest water, rubies red as blood, and emeralds green as the sea when the sun shines upon it!" the queen leaned forward upon her throne and fixed reynard with burning eyes. "and pearls too?" she whispered. "pearls too, o queen. ropes of pearls that well would adorn your majesty's fair neck. and jewelled crowns worthy of a royal brow! hidden deep in the earth they lie, all those riches, and now they will lie there for ever, for nobody knows of them but myself. perhaps it is as well. the lust of gold is the motive of many crimes, and this treasure has already been the cause of a serious attempt against the throne and the life of the king! but all this has nothing to do with my confession. with your majesty's leave i will go on with what i was about to say." [illustration: the trial of reynard the fox] "one moment," said the queen. "those crowns you spoke of--describe them more fully. what stones had they, and how set?" "time enough for that," cried the king. "you shall try the crowns upon your head before all is done. let the fox tell us where this treasure is hidden; that is the important thing!" "i had thought to carry the secret with me to the grave," said reynard, "but in this solemn hour i can hide nothing. if it is your majesty's will, i will tell all." [illustration: "and pearls too?" she whispered] "beware, o king!" cried the bear. "he will deceive you now as he has deceived others. believe not his lying words!" "silence!" cried the king. "this matter concerns me, and me alone. let reynard speak!" reynard cast a look of triumph at bruin and isengrim, and, smiling faintly, went on with his tale. "the treasure was discovered first of all by my father. he came upon it one day when he was hunting in the forest, among the ruins of a palace that once belonged to an ancient king. there, in a deep hole, under a big stone, he found the gold and gems, and for ever afterwards he was a changed creature. no longer blithe and care-free, he slunk about as though overburdened with responsibility. he knew himself rich beyond compare--richer than any king in all the world, and gradually into his heart there crept the desire to win, by means of his riches, a place of power. "at that time, o king, my father was bitter against your majesty because of your disapproval of his manner of life, and i am sorry to say that he determined to wrest you from the throne and to set up another in your place. full of this project, he took tybert the cat into his confidence. the two met together secretly in the forest of the ardennes, and after much discussion they decided to offer the throne to bruin the bear!" "ah!" ejaculated the king, turning his gaze upon bruin, who was too furious to speak. "so now we know why you wished to still reynard's tongue." "the bear was delighted with the prospect," reynard went on, "and strutted about the forest as though he were already crowned. he was always talking of the fine laws he would make and the splendid time he would have, but he was too stupid to be of much use as a plotter. indeed, it was for reason of his stupidity that my father and tybert chose him as king, for they thought they could make of him a useful tool. they had, however, to lay their plans without him, and the better to carry them out, they called isengrim the wolf, and grimbard the ape, into conference. the five met together at a certain place between heyst and gand, and it was there, o king, that your death was decided upon. each of the conspirators took a solemn oath not to divulge the proceedings to a living soul, and having settled the very hour and day of your majesty's assassination, they departed to their homes. [illustration: "i saw him stop at the foot of a great tree"] "now, like all apes, grimbard was a chatterer, and no sooner was he within his house than he told his wife all that had happened, explaining to her that it was a great secret and she was not to tell a soul. of course she promised faithfully to keep a still tongue in her head, and as a matter of fact i believe she did manage to keep the secret for a whole day. then she happened to meet my wife in the woods, and having sworn _her_ to secrecy, told her the whole thing. my wife, out of a feeling of love and regard to your majesty, thought it her duty to inform me, which she did, immediately she returned home, without keeping back a single detail. "i could not believe my ears at first. 'what! bruin, king!' i cried. 'that great fat lump of hairy stupidity, king of the animals! is the world going mad? would they dethrone our loved and gracious lord in favour of so base a beast?' there and then, o king, i raised my hand above my head and swore to defend your majesty's life to the last. 'while reynard lives,' i said, 'the king's throne shall be secure, cost what it may!' "from that moment i thought of nothing else but how best to thwart my father's base plans. it seemed to me that if i could only discover the treasure i might stop the whole thing, for the conspirators relied upon the gold to pay the armies they intended to raise. for days, therefore, i lurked about the woods, following my father wherever he went, in the hope that, sooner or later, he would betray the treasure's whereabouts. but he was far too wary to go near it, and had it not been for the stupidity of the ape i might have remained none the wiser. one day i noticed grimbard wheeling a barrow through the forest with an air of great secrecy, and following him unseen, at a safe distance, i saw him stop in the midst of the ruins of that ancient palace in the forest. there, at the foot of a great tree, he lifted a heavy stone, discovering a deep hole, from which he took several vases filled to the brim with golden coins. these he placed upon his barrow, and having carefully covered up the hole again, trundled off into the forest. "no sooner had he disappeared amid the shade of the trees than i ran forward and lifted the stone. what a sight met my eyes! there lay the treasure--chest upon chest of shining gold, and heaps of jewels flashing with rays of many-coloured light. my eyes were nearly blinded by the splendour. [illustration: the conspiracy gained adherents every day] "even as i stood gazing in a sort of dazed trance, i realized what i must do. if i could get this treasure away from the place where it was hidden, and, unknown to the conspirators, transport it somewhere else, their plot would be strangled at its birth. unfortunately the treasure was heavy and i had no means of conveyance--not even a barrow, but i took counsel of hermeline, my wife, and she, noble soul as she is, strengthened me in my resolve. 'though we wear our paws to the bone,' said she, 'we must take the treasure away and save the life of our noble and our beloved king.' that very night we began our task, and little by little we moved the treasure, hiding it in a safe place known only to ourselves. for the best part of a month we laboured, working only at night, and fearful every moment that we should be discovered. at last everything was finished, and the whole of the treasure removed. "in the meantime, the conspiracy gained adherents every day. my father was the life and soul of the plot. he sent messengers far and near, into every corner of the land, to win the animals over to his side. 'those who enrol under my banner,' said he, 'shall receive a large sum of money paid in advance. i do not ask them to trust my word, but to come to me and let me pour the money into their hands.' in such circumstance what wonder that his supporters grew every hour. before long he had gathered together an immense army, which was increased by troops raised by the bear, the wolf, and the cat. bruin, in particular, was very proud of his success in raising soldiers. he already fancied himself king, and walked about giving orders to everybody who crossed his path. "now the time for payment had come, so my father, accompanied by grimbard and the cat, made his way to the hiding-place of the treasure to bring out the gold. i watched them from afar, and saw them uncover the hole, and never to my dying day shall i forget the scream my father uttered when he saw that the treasure was no longer there. frantically the two of them dug up the soil around the place in the hope that they were mistaken, but not a single gold piece could they find. at last grimbard, chattering with fear, turned and slunk away, while my father crept home and hanged himself with a cord to a nail just outside the back door. a terrible end, o king, but though he was my father, i cannot help feeling he deserved the misery he had brought upon himself. as for bruin, he found himself faced with the necessity of explaining to the soldiers that no money was forthcoming, and being a coward at heart, he shirked the task. he, too, fled secretly, and tybert the cat soon followed. to-day, sire, these three stand among the foremost of my accusers. if i have sinned, have they not sinned too, and in greater measure?" [illustration: the suit of golden armour emrik wore] the king waved his paw impatiently. "we will deal with them presently," said he. "for the present, keep to your tale. where is the treasure hidden? speak, and lie not, on your life!" "why should i lie, o king?" asked reynard in an aggrieved tone. "have i not sworn to tell the truth? in western flanders there is a little wood called husterloo. in the midst of that wood lies a pool, which is known by the name of krekelput.[1] it is a dreary place, o king, and solitary, for it lies among marshes where no man can pass. no sound is heard in that place save only the call of the carrion-crow by day, and the dismal hooting of the owl by night. there, close to that pool, i hid the treasure, in a hole in the earth which i covered with soil, marking the place with three great stones. remove those stones, and dig up the soil, and you will discover three enormous golden vases, beautifully carved and modelled. in the first is the royal crown of the ancient king emrik, which bruin thought to wear. in the second is the crown of emrik's queen--a thing of wonder, flashing with splendid gems; and in the third is the suit of golden armour emrik wore. beneath these three vases lies the rest of the treasure--chest after chest of golden coins, ropes of pearls, necklaces of diamonds and rubies, so many gems that i cannot describe them all. if your majesty will send trusty messengers to krekelput, they can easily prove the truth of what i say!" [1] snail's well. during this recital the king had raised himself from his throne in his excitement, and now he turned to the assembled animals and cried: "which of you knows krekelput? who will go and fetch the treasure?" nobody answered, for, as a matter of fact, not a soul present had ever heard of krekelput before reynard mentioned the name. "come, come," cried the king. "one of you must know the wood of husterloo and the pool of which reynard speaks!" "be patient with them, sire," said reynard. "they are afraid to speak. the hare knows the place very well. do you not remember, friend," said he, fixing the hare with a menacing glance, "you took refuge in the wood of husterloo one day when the hounds were after you!" [illustration: they walked in silence] "i cannot remember very well," stammered the hare, who was nearly out of his senses with fright. "perhaps i did!" "of course you did," said reynard, "and you could find the place again, no doubt?" "i am not sure," said the poor hare, who indeed had never heard of husterloo. "a truce to all this!" cried the king impatiently. "if you cannot remember, reynard shall go with you to refresh your memory, and bellyn the ram shall accompany the two of you to see that you do not run away. be off with you at once, and bring back the treasure as quickly as you can, for my eyes are aching for a sight of emrik's crown and the suit of golden armour emrik wore." "and forget not the ropes of pearls and the jewelled coronet!" cried the queen. "bring those first!" "i will bring everything in good time," said reynard; "trust me for that. but before i set out on this journey i must go to rome to ask absolution of the pope for all the sins i have committed. suffer me first of all to go on this pilgrimage, o king, and, if you will, send bellyn and the hare with me to see that i do not escape. nothing is further from my thoughts, but after what has happened i cannot expect your majesty to trust my word, and i am content to go in ward." "be it so!" said the king. "set off at once and return as soon as may be. and now there is another little affair to settle! where is bruin, our would-be king. stand forth, bruin, with your precious conspirators, the wolf, the cat, and the ape." but nobody answered, for seeing how affairs were going all the four had quietly slipped away, fearing to stay and face the vengeance of the king. reynard smiled maliciously as he put on a pilgrim's cloak and marched away with bellyn and the hare along the road that led from the court. for several miles they walked in silence. then reynard sighed and said: "ah, friends, how i long to see my dear wife and children just once more before i go on this long journey that lies before us. let us take the road that leads past my castle of malpertuis. it is not much out of our way, and we can enter there and refresh ourselves." the hare was too frightened to dispute the matter, and bellyn on his part good-humouredly agreed, so the three of them took the road to malpertuis, and before long came to the gate of reynard's castle. [illustration: reynard sprang at his throat] "here we are at last, cousin bellyn," said reynard. "did you ever see such fine pastures! you must be famished after our long tramp. take a rest a while and eat some of this sweet grass, while i and the hare go into the house and console my wife for the long separation that is before her. we shall not stay more than a few minutes." "well, hurry up," said bellyn, who had already begun to graze. "i will wait for you, but don't stay talking all day!" so reynard and the hare went into the house, where they were met by hermeline, reynard's devoted spouse. "what, husband," said she, "are you back already? how did things go at court?" "just as i said they would," answered reynard. "when the king heard my tale he acquitted me of the charges that had been brought against me, and allowed me to return here in honour. the wolf, the bear, and the cat, who were my most powerful enemies, have fled the court, so that, for the time being, they have escaped my vengeance; but i have brought with me this fellow whom you see at my side, for he was among the foremost of my accusers!" when he heard these words the poor hare trembled with fright, and turned to flee, but in a moment reynard sprang at his throat. one loud cry he gave for help, but bellyn, peacefully cropping the grass outside, did not hear, and the next moment the hare was dead. then reynard and hermeline and all the little foxes had a splendid feast, and in less than half an hour nothing was left of the hare's carcass but the head. while they were still feasting there came a loud knocking at the door. it was bellyn, who, having eaten his fill, was now impatient with waiting. snatching up the head of the hare reynard put it into a bag, which he carefully sealed. then, running to the door, he threw it open. "you have been a long time!" grumbled bellyn. "where is the hare?" "oh, he is just inside, playing with my little ones," said reynard. "he's a merry fellow, that one, and so fond of children that it is beautiful to watch him. leave him alone for a time. he'll be out presently. while you are waiting, you might run back to the king with this bag, which he asked me to send him. it contains papers referring to the conspiracy--papers which involve a great many people at court, in fact nearly all of the animals except yourself. hurry off with it, and give it into the king's own hands, and, as you value your life, do not open the bag upon the road, or the king will suspect that you also are involved and have erased your name on the way." [illustration: "you have merited death a hundred times"] "did the king say i was to take back the papers?" asked bellyn. "of course he did!" answered reynard. "'send them back by my trusty bellyn'--those were his very words, and he whispered in my ear that you were the only one among the whole court that he could trust. i should not be surprised if he gave you a handsome reward, and perhaps made you a peer of the realm!" "give me the bag!" cried bellyn. "i'll take it to the king. i shall not be long. wait until i come back, and tell the hare that he is on no account to set out without me." "never fear," said reynard. "he'll not stir a step out of my castle--i'll answer for that. farewell, good bellyn. i will be waiting here when you return!" full of pride at his important mission, bellyn trotted off down the road, bearing the bag very carefully with him, and reynard, with a spiteful smile, stood and watched him till he was out of sight. in good time bellyn returned to the court and handed to the astonished king the bag which reynard had sent. the king broke the seal, and gazed inside, while the queen pressed close to him, peering over his shoulder. the next moment he gave a cry of horror, as he drew forth the head of the poor hare. the queen fell to the ground in a dead faint, and for a time the king remained holding the head in his hands, gazing at it vacantly. then he cast it from him, and without a word turned his steps towards his palace, where he immediately took to his bed, for the shock of the thing had made him ill. not for several weeks afterwards, when he had somewhat recovered, was he able to turn his thoughts to vengeance. then he gave orders for a large army to march to reynard's castle of malpertuis to raze it to the ground, and bring back the fox in chains. the army set out, but when they arrived at malpertuis they found the birds had flown. reynard and hermeline and all the little foxes had left the country, and were never seen again. some people say that they took up their abode in a distant land, where reynard soon began once more to play his old tricks, until the king of that land caught him one day red-handed, and hanged him on the nearest tree without giving him a chance to say a word. i do not know whether this story is true, although i hope it is. all that i can say for certain is that reynard and his family were never seen in king nobel's dominions from that day on. [illustration] [illustration: calf and goat] the magic cap there was once a poor countryman, of whom his neighbours said that he had no more wits than he was born with, and that was not many. he was, indeed a simple-minded fellow, and anybody could get the better of him. one day the countryman's wife said to him: "jan, put on your best smock and your soundest clogs, and go to the market to try and sell our calf. she is a good calf and you ought to get at least a hundred francs for her." away went jan, along the road to the market town, with the calf behind him. he felt quite glad to be out on this fine spring day, and he hummed a merry tune as he plodded along. three students who were lounging at the door of an inn saw him pass, and, marking his air of simplicity, thought it would be good fun to play a joke upon him, so one of them went up to him and said: "good-morning, friend! how much are you asking for your goat?" "goat?" answered the peasant in surprise. "this is not a goat, but a calf!" "indeed!" said the student politely. "and who told you that?" "it was my wife," answered the peasant. "'jan,' she said, 'go to the market and try to sell our calf.' i am sure she said calf. i could not make a mistake about such a thing!" "your wife was playing a joke on you," said the student. "anybody can see that is a goat. if you don't believe me, ask the next person you meet on the road." and he went off, laughing. jan continued his walk, a little troubled in his mind, and before very long he saw the second of the students coming towards him. "stay a minute, sir," he cried. "do you mind looking at this animal of mine and telling me what sort of a creature it is?" "why, a goat, of course," answered the student. "you're wrong," said the peasant. "it's a calf. my wife says so, and she could not be mistaken!" "have it your own way!" replied the student, "but if you'll take my advice you won't pretend that animal is a calf when you get to the market, unless you want to be hooted out of the town!" "ah!" said jan, and he went on his way, muttering to himself, and casting many a troubled glance at the innocent calf who ambled along peacefully behind him. "if it is a goat it ought to have horns," he said to himself. "and it hasn't got any horns. but if it is a calf it will have horns when it grows to be a cow. perhaps it is a goat-calf. i wonder whether goat-calves have horns!" and he continued to puzzle his poor brains about the matter until he was suddenly interrupted by a shout from the side of the road. the shout came from the third student, who had been waiting for him. "hallo, you there!" cried the student. "how much do you want for your goat?" "goat? goat?" murmured the peasant in dismay. "here, take the thing. if it's a goat, i don't want it, for i was sent to market to sell a calf. you may have it for nothing--i'll make you a present of it!" and so saying, he pushed the cord into the student's hand. then turning his back without another word, he retraced his steps towards his home. [illustration: "you were being made a fool of"] when his wife heard what had happened she was furious. "you stupid lout!" she cried, "could you not see that you were being made a fool of?" and she called him all the names she could lay her tongue to, until the poor fellow blushed and hung his head for shame. her anger did not last long, however, for she was a good woman and she knew that her husband's simplicity was not his fault, but his misfortune. fortunately, she had quite enough wits for them both, and instead of wasting more time in reproaches, she set to work to think how she might pay back the practical jokers in their own coin. it did not take her long to think of a plan, and as the first step towards carrying it out, she put on her bonnet and went off to the town, where she called at three inns, paying at each of them for a dinner for four persons, the dinner to be eaten on the next market day. returning home, she explained the plan to her husband and gave him very exact instructions as to the part he was to play. when the next market day came round jan set off for the town, and by the door of the very first inn on the road he met the three students. they exchanged a sly smile when they saw him, and one of them said: "good morning, good fellow. and how do you find yourself to-day? i notice that you have no goat with you this time." "ha, ha, ha!" laughed jan, "that was a good joke you played on me, but i bear you no ill-will for it. come in and drink a glass of wine. i'm in funds this morning and i'll willingly stand treat." the students accepted jan's offer with enthusiasm, for they belonged to that class of men who are always thirsty. accordingly the four went into the tavern; and jan called for wine. when the time came to pay for it, he called the serving-maid, and taking off his cap, spun it round three times on his finger. "madam," said he, "everything is paid for, isn't it?" "yes, sir, and thank you very much," answered the serving-maid. the three students watched this procedure with a good deal of surprise, but jan carried off the whole affair as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "now, my friends," said he, "the doctors say it is bad to drink on an empty stomach. what do you say to a good meal?" "excellent," cried the students. "very well then, come along with me to the next inn, and you shall have one." laughing in their sleeves at the peasant's simplicity, the students followed. arrived at the inn, jan ordered dinner for four, and a heap of good things were put upon the table. after the repast, he called the serving-maid to him, took off his cap as before, and twirled it round three times on his finger. "now then," said he, "everything is paid for, isn't that so?" "certainly, sir," answered the serving-maid, "and i am very much obliged to you." [illustration: jan and the three students] at this the three students opened their eyes even wider than before, but jan took not the slightest notice of their astonishment. "what do you say, friends," he asked, "shall we go on to the town together and wash the dinner down with a glass of ale apiece?" "as many as you please," answered the students joyfully, and so they followed jan to the town, where he entered a third tavern and ordered drinks all round. then, taking off his cap once again, he twirled it round three times on his finger, and said to the innkeeper: "everything is paid for, isn't it, my good man?" "certainly, sir," said the innkeeper, bowing. but this was more than the curiosity of the students could stand. "look here, gossip," said one of them, "how is it that you are able to get food and drink for nothing everywhere you go, simply by twirling your cap in people's faces?" "oh, that's easily explained," answered jan, "this cap of mine is a magic cap, which was left to me by my great-great-grandmother, who was a witch, so i have heard say. if i twirl it on my finger, and say, 'everything is paid for,'--well, everything _is_ paid for! you understand me?" "perfectly," said the student. "my faith, but that is a wonderful cap--the very thing to have when one goes a journey! will you sell it to me?" "how much will you give me for it?" asked jan. "two hundred francs!" "nonsense! do you think i am going to brave my wife's anger for a paltry two hundred francs?" "well then, three hundred." "not enough! my wife says it is worth a fortune." "four hundred." jan shook his head doubtfully, and, seeing his hesitation, the student cried: "come now, we'll give you five hundred, and not a penny more. you'd better accept, or you'll lose your chance." "well then, hand over the money. i don't know what my wife will say, but...." "she'll give you a kiss for making such a splendid bargain," cried the student, pushing a bag of coins into jan's hand and snatching the magic cap. "hurry off home as fast as you can to tell her the good news!" then the three went away, laughing, slapping each other on the back in their joy at having got the better of the simple peasant. that afternoon the students, eager to take advantage of the qualities of the magic cap, invited about fifty of their friends to a splendid feast at the largest inn in the town. everybody who was invited came, as you may imagine, and the resources of the innkeeper were taxed to the utmost to supply the hungry and thirsty crowd with all that they wanted. when the feast was ended, the student who had jan's cap called the host, and twirling it three times round his finger, said: "now, sir, everything is paid for, isn't it?" "paid for?" cried the innkeeper. "what do you mean? i've not seen the colour of your money yet." [illustration: twirled the cap round three times on his finger] at this reply the student's face fell, but one of his companions snatched the cap from his hands. "idiot," said he, "you twirled the cap the wrong way! i was watching the peasant carefully, and he twisted it like this." so saying, he gave the cap a twirl and said: "now then, my good sir, i think you will agree that everything is paid for." "i don't know whether you are trying to play a joke on me?" answered the innkeeper grimly, "but your idea of humour is not mine. you had better pay up at once, before i call the police!" "here, let me try," cried the third; and in his turn he twirled the cap, and, fixing the host with his eye, repeated that everything was paid for. at this the innkeeper flew into a passion, and made such a fuss that the room was in an uproar. it was only by promising to pay him at once that the innkeeper could be quietened down, and prevented from putting his threat of calling the police into execution. the banquet cost a good round sum, and as the three students had no money left, their invited guests were obliged to subscribe the money between them, which they did with much grumbling. afterwards they took their three hosts outside and dipped them into the horse-trough to punish them for their bad taste in playing practical jokes on their friends. and a few miles away, in their little cottage, jan and his wife sat counting the five hundred francs he had got for his greasy old cap, which indeed had not been left him by his great-great-grandmother, but which was as old and ragged as though it had! [illustration] [illustration: jan and jannette] [illustration: were carried safely over to the other bank] sugar-candy house jan and jannette were brother and sister. they lived near a big wood, and every day they used to go to play there, fishing for sticklebacks in the streams, and making necklaces of red berries. one day they wandered farther from their home than usual, and all of a sudden they came to a brook crossed by a pretty red bridge. on the other side of the bridge, half hidden among the trees, they espied the roofs of a little pink cottage, which, when they came closer, they found to be built entirely of sugar-candy! here was a delightful find for a little boy and girl who loved sweetstuff! they lost no time in breaking off pieces of the roof and popping them into their mouths. now in that house there lived an old wolf whose name was garon. he was paralysed in one leg, and could not run very fast, but in all other respects he was as fierce and strong as he had been in his youth. when he heard jan and jannette breaking off bits of his roof he growled out, "who is touching my sugar-candy house?" then he came limping out to see who it was, but by that time the children were safely hidden in the woods. "who dares to touch my sugar-candy house?" roared the wolf again. then jan replied: "_it's the wind so mild, it's the wind so mild, that lovable child!_" this satisfied the old wolf, and back he went to his house, grumbling. the next day jan and jannette once again crossed over the little red bridge, and broke some more candy from the wolf's house. out came garon again, bristling all over. "who is touching my sugar-candy house?" he roared. and jan and jannette replied: "_it's the wind so mild, it's the wind so mild, that lovable child!_" "very well," said the wolf, and he went back again, but this time there was a gleam of suspicion in his eye. the next day was stormy, and hardly had jan and jannette reached the sugar-candy house than the wolf came out, and surprised them in the very act of breaking a piece off his window-sill. "oho!" said he. "it was the wind so mild, was it? that lovable child, eh? precious lovable children, i must say! gr-r-r, i'll eat them up!" and he sprang at jan and jannette, who took to their heels and ran off as fast as their legs could carry them. garon pursued them at a good speed in spite of his stiff paw, and although he never gained upon them, yet he kept them in sight, and refused to give up the chase. the children looked back once or twice, and saw that the wolf was still following them, but they were not very much afraid, because they were confident of their ability to outrun him. [illustration:'gr-r-r, i'll eat them up!'] all of a sudden they found their way barred by a river. there was no bridge across it, and the water was very deep. what were they to do? nearer and nearer came the wolf! in the middle of the river some ducks were swimming, and jan called out to them: "little ducks! little ducks! carry us over the river on your backs, for if you do not the wolf will get us!" so the ducks came swimming up, and jan and jannette climbed each on to the back of one, and were carried safely over to the other bank. presently the wolf, in his turn, came to the river. he had seen how the children had managed to cross, and he roared out at the ducks in a terrible voice, "come and carry me over, or i'll eat you all up!" "very well," answered the ducks, and they swam to the bank, and garon balanced himself on four of them, one paw on the back of each. but they had no intention of carrying the wicked old wolf to the other side, for they did not love him or any of his tribe, and, moreover, they objected to his impolite way of asking a favour. so, at a given signal from the leader, all the ducks dived in midstream, and left old garon struggling in the water. three times he went down and three times he came up, but the fourth time he sank never to rise any more. that was the end of old garon, and a good job, too, say i. i don't know what became of his sugar-candy house, but i dare say, if you could find the wood, and the sun had not melted the candy, or the rain washed it away, you might break a bit of it off for yourselves. [illustration] [illustration: jaco peter and his friend] poor peter there was once a man named jaco peter who was so poor that he had not two sous to rub together. his clothes were rags, his boots were shocking, and as for his house, it was nothing but a miserable hovel hardly fit for a dog. the only friend poor peter had in the world was a big fox who was called reynard the red because of the colour of his hide. one day as poor peter was walking along the road looking out for stray scraps of food which he could pick up for his dinner, whom should he meet but reynard, who was going off to spy round a farmhouse where, he had been told, there were some fine fat chickens. "how now, peter," said reynard, "you look very miserable to-day! what is the matter?" "i have fallen on bad luck," answered peter gloomily. "i have found nothing to-day but two cabbage-stalks and a half-gnawed bone, and to make matters worse, the bone has no marrow in it." "why do you eat such stuff?" asked reynard disgustedly. "look at me--i am just as poor as you, yet i live on the fat of the land! and how do i do it, peter? why, by using my wits! cheer up, my friend, you shall be a man of fortune yet, for i'll take your case in hand myself!" reynard was as good as his word. the same day he called at the king's palace and asked if he might borrow a bushel measure. such an unusual request from a fox caused some amazement and the matter was brought to the notice of the king himself, who sent for reynard and asked him what he wanted with such a thing. "the fact is," answered reynard, "that a friend of mine, a certain lord jaco peter, has come by a good deal of money, and he wishes to measure it." "very well," said the king, "you may take the measure, but i would like to have it back when you have done with it, if you do not mind." off went reynard with the bushel basket, and the same night, having stuck a couple of sous to the bottom of it with a bit of grease, he sent it back with a message to say that it was not large enough, and might he have another? in reply, the king sent a two-bushel measure, and after a time reynard sent this back also, with a request for a larger one still. "if i have to measure the money with a thing like this," said he, "i shall be a month over the task." "that friend of yours must be an enormously wealthy man," said the king. "let me see--what did you say his name was? lord jaco peter? i do not seem to remember a lord of that name in my dominions!" "he is a foreign noble," said reynard glibly, "who has only lately arrived in this country. he will shortly be coming to pay his respects to your majesty, for it is his intention to ask for the hand of the princess, your daughter, in marriage." "that is a thing one must consider," replied the king, "but in the meantime i will gladly give your noble friend an audience." away went reynard in high feather and recounted to poor peter all that had happened. "the affair is as good as finished," said he, "you shall marry the princess and sit at the king's right hand!" [illustration: "smear yourself from head to foot"] peter looked down at his clothes, which indeed, were too well ventilated to be quite seemly, and made a grimace. "a fine lord i shall look!" said he, "with my toes sticking out of my boots and holes in my breeches." "never mind about that," reynard answered. "just leave everything to me, and all be well." the next day, when the time came for the pair to set out for the palace, reynard said to his friend: "now pay great attention to what i have to say. close by the king's palace there is a big muddy puddle in the middle of the road. when you come to that puddle i want you to trip over yourself and fall plump into it. don't let there be any half measures! get right into the mud--wallow in it, and smear yourself from head to foot!" "but why...?" asked peter. "never mind about why. do as i tell you!" poor peter carried out his directions to the letter. when they reached the puddle he pretended to slip, and fell souse into it, covering himself with a thick layer of mud. at sight of the disaster reynard began to cry out in dismay, and the guards at the king's palace, who had seen the accident, came running up to offer their aid. "did you fall down?" asked one of them politely. peter was wiping the mud out of his mouth and could not answer, but the fox cried: "of course he has fallen down, oaf! do you think he sat in the puddle for amusement. don't stand gaping there, but run to the palace quickly, and borrow a change of clothes, for this is lord jaco peter who is on his way to visit the king. and look you," he added, as the guards ran off, "see that you bring some robes worthy of my lord's great estate, or it will be the worse for you!" away went the guards, and told the king's chamberlain about the catastrophe. a few minutes later they returned bearing with them a magnificent robe of cloth-of-gold, beautifully embroidered and sewn with precious stones. then they led peter to a chamber, where he bathed himself and donned his new finery. unfortunately the chamberlain had forgotten to send any shoes, so there was peter with his toes sticking out of his boots under his magnificent gown. [illustration: reynard seized the opportunity to warn his friend] "never mind," said reynard, "you must keep your feet out of sight," and he led him before the king, who was immensely taken with his appearance. "tell me," he said to reynard, after greetings had been exchanged, "why does your friend keep staring at his clothes. one would think he was not used to them!" reynard smiled. "as a matter of fact, your majesty," he answered, "he is not. this dress of his came out of your majesty's wardrobe, for he had the ill-fortune to spoil his own on the way here, by falling into a puddle. the gown is good enough, as it goes, of course; but my friend is used to something far finer. i would wager a thousand crowns he is thinking this very moment that he has never been so poorly clad before in his life! is it not so, my lord?" he added, turning to peter. [illustration: an exclamation of astonishment] peter gave a grin and a nod of the head, and the affair passed without further comment, but on their way in to dinner reynard seized the opportunity to warn his friend against further faults of deportment. but, as the saying goes, it is no use trying to make a silk purse out of a sow's ear, and no sooner were they seated at table, and peter saw the magnificent golden dishes, the delicate cut glass, and the fine candlesticks, than he opened his eyes wide, and gave an exclamation of astonishment. "what is the matter now?" asked the king, staring at him. "i crave your majesty's pardon," said reynard. "my friend is a little overwhelmed, for your customs are new to him. in his own palace, you see, he is used to a certain degree of luxury--such a service of plate, for instance, as this on the table, would there only be found in the servant's quarters. come, come, my lord," he added, clapping peter on the shoulder, "it will do you good to live the simple life. spartan fare, my lord, spartan fare!" peter rolled his eyes and grinned again, before falling to, with a fairly good appetite, upon the rich food spread before him. "this lord must certainly be of enormous wealth," thought the king. "true, he has certain curious tricks of manner, such as supping his gravy with a table-knife, but what does a little thing like that matter! in other countries, other ways! that is a very good proverb." after dinner was over reynard broached the matter of peter's marriage with the king's daughter, and the king gave his consent. he begged reynard and his friend to remain at the palace as his guests until the ceremony should take place, and apportioned to them a magnificent suite of rooms. a week later peter and the princess were married. the poor man could hardly believe his good luck as he stood before the altar dressed out in gorgeous robes. all he could do was to stare like one who is dazed, and reynard had to nudge him from behind to get him to make the responses. after the wedding a splendid feast was held, to which all the greatest and wealthiest lords in the kingdom were invited, and then the king's carriages arrived to conduct the happy pair to peter's castle. now what was to be done? peter's castle was a broken-down hovel at the edge of the forest. he shivered with fear when he thought of what the princess would say when she saw it, with its mud floor, and its furniture consisting of one chair with no back, one battered table, and a heap of brushwood covered with a ragged pallet which served as a bed. could reynard overcome this difficulty as he had overcome all the others? of course he could, and he did! away went the coaches, with reynard sitting proudly on the box of the foremost, and presently the whole cortège halted before the gates of an enchanted castle, which reynard had borrowed from the fairies of the forest. there lord jaco peter and his bride lived for many happy years. they had six children, three boys and three girls, and reynard was the friend of them all. [illustration] [illustration: "oh dear me, that's twice!"] the peasant and his ass there once lived a poor peasant. i do not know his name, but he earned a living by gathering dead wood in the forest, and he had a donkey who was no bigger ass than himself. perhaps by this you will be able to recognize him. one day the peasant hitched his donkey into the shafts of his little cart and went off as usual to the wood for his day's toil. arrived there, he tied the donkey to a tree and then, by way of the cart, climbed the trunk in order to break off some dead branches which he had noticed above. as he sat there, legs astraddle on the branch, busily breaking away the dead wood, along through the forest came a lord dressed in fine clothes, with his manservant behind him. "hallo! my man," cried the lord, "if you don't come down from that tree pretty soon you'll get a tumble. the branch you are sitting on is cracked." "cracked, is it?" answered the peasant. "well, so much the worse for me." and he went on calmly with his work. the lord went away shrugging his shoulders at the peasant's stupidity; and, sure enough, before he had gone very far, _crack! crack!_ the branch broke, and down fell the peasant to the foot of the tree, giving himself a fine blow on the nose, which immediately swelled almost to the size of a turnip. "my word," muttered the peasant, tenderly feeling the sore place, "that man must have been a sorcerer! he can foretell the future! he said i'd fall and i certainly have fallen! i must run after him and ask him to tell me something else. this is a chance not to be missed!" so off he ran as fast as his bruised limbs would allow, in pursuit of the lord, and presently came up with him. "hi, sir, wait a minute!" he cried. "you told me the truth about the tree. the branch broke right enough and i fell on my nose. won't you tell me something else?" "willingly," answered the lord, "and i hope this time that you will pay heed to what i say. take care not to load your ass too heavily, for if you do so he will bray, and if he brays three times running i predict that you will suddenly die." "oh dear me!" sighed the peasant. "i am the most unfortunate of men. each prediction about my future seems to be an unhappy one. nevertheless, i am very much obliged to you, sir. good day." and he took off his cap to the lord and bowed, and lurched off back to his tree. for a long time he worked busily, and found so much wood that his little cart soon became full. then he remembered what the lord had told him about loading his ass too heavily, but he was so avaricious that he could not make up his mind to stop. "one more branch won't make any difference," he kept on saying as he piled more and more wood into the cart. at last the poor donkey could stand no more and, lifting his head, he uttered a loud "hee-haw!" [illustration: "hallo my man," cried the lord] at this the peasant turned pale with fright. "stop, stop, what are you doing?" he cried. "oh, my dear little ass, i beg you not to bray again. i will not put another branch into the cart. we will go home straight away and you shall have carrots for supper!" so saying, he climbed to his seat and shook the reins as a signal for departure. the donkey pulled and pulled, but not an inch would the cart budge, although he strained his muscles to the utmost. finding all his efforts vain, he turned his head and once again gave utterance to a loud bray of protest. "oh, dear me, that's twice!" cried the peasant, jumping down from his perch. "if he brays once more i'm a dead man. do you hear that, little ass? for goodness' sake, remain dumb until we reach home, and i'll help you pull the cart!" freed of the peasant's weight, the load for a time was easier to pull, but at the end of another ten minutes the weight began to tell again. the ass stopped and brayed loudly for the third time. "that's finished it!" cried the peasant. "i am dead!" and he fell flat to the ground. left to himself, the ass wandered slowly on, dragging the load behind him. soon he came to the gates of the town, and the guard took him and put him into the pound. after a time, as nobody claimed him, he was sold. meanwhile the peasant lay where he had fallen. presently a carriage drove up, and the coachman was forced to pull in his horses because of the body that lay stretched across the road. "come," he cried, thinking that the peasant was drunk, "rouse yourself, swill-tub! get up, unless you want to be run over!" "i can't get up!" moaned the peasant. "why not?" "because i'm dead!" "dead, are you?" cried the coachman, jumping from his seat in anger. "well i've something here that will bring you to life again!" and he took his whip and laid on to the peasant with such a will that in less than ten seconds the fellow was capering about all over the road. having thus effectively brought the dead man to life, he remounted his box and drove off grumbling. in the roadway the peasant continued to dance about until the pain of his beating had somewhat subsided. then he looked around, and for the first time missed his donkey. [illustration: "i can't get up, because i'm dead!"] "dear, dear, dear!" he cried, "one trouble after another! when i was dead i wished i was alive; now i'm alive i wish i was dead again, for i'm sore all over, and i've lost my donkey. whatever shall i do?" and, groaning and grumbling, he set off along the road in search of his beast. after a time he came to the gates of the town, where a sentry was standing with his pike on his shoulder. "good morning, good man," said the peasant. "have you seen my little ass?" "your ass!" answered the sentry, smiling. "the only ass that has passed through these gates to-day is already become burgomaster!" "what! burgomaster!" cried the peasant. "my ass burgomaster! tell me quickly, where does he live? i must go to him at once!" hardly able to control his amusement, the sentry pointed out the way to the burgomaster's house, and thither went the peasant in all haste. arrived at the door, he sounded the great bell--_darlindindin!_--and a maidservant appeared. "is the burgomaster at home?" asked the peasant. yes, he was at home, and the maidservant led the peasant to the room where he sat behind a big table loaded with documents. "good morning, ass!" said the peasant, with a grin of delight that twisted his swollen and discoloured features. "eh! what, what!" stammered the burgomaster, turning purple with anger. "i beg your pardon," said the peasant, "i should have said, 'good morning, mr. ass, esquire,' for you have become a great man now, while i am still a poor woodcutter. i don't envy you your good fortune, i am sure, although your promotion has left me without a donkey. since you have become such a great lord, won't you give me back the ten florins you cost me, so that i may buy another?" at this the burgomaster's rage exploded. leaping over the table with one bound, he seized the hapless peasant by the collar of his coat, threw open the door, and, with one mighty kick, sent him sprawling from top to bottom of the stairs. [illustration] [illustration: the eagle and the kinglet] the king of the birds at one time the birds, like the four-footed animals, were ruled over by the lion, who is the king of the beasts, but they grew discontented with his dominion and decided to have a king of their own. it was the eagle's idea: he thought of it one day when he was standing on the lofty crag by his nest, gazing out upon the plain below, and he saw the lion, no bigger than a mouse in appearance, slinking beside a dried-up stream. "earth-bound creature!" thought the eagle scornfully. "who are you to reign over us, who cleave the air with wings and fly in the face of the sun! he who is lordliest among the birds should rule the feathered creatures, and surely i am he!" so thinking, the eagle spread his wings and soared high into the air, and then swooped suddenly down upon the lion, casting sand into his eyes with a harsh scream of defiance. having thus relieved his feelings, he sent messengers near and far to assemble all the birds that he might unfold his plan to them. such a scurry of wings as there was when the birds came to answer the summons! the sky was black with them, so that the animals on the earth below, fearing a dreadful storm, took shelter in their caves and holes. from north, south, east, and west they came; over mountain, valley, and plain; birds of all sorts and sizes, from the little humming-bird to the condor and the vulture. the ostrich left the burning plains where he loves to roam, and flapping his ridiculous wing, for he could not fly, raced to the meeting-place. all those birds that dwell in the tropical forests, and flash from tree to tree like living jewels in the green twilight; the penguins and skua-gulls from the icy north; the cormorants and shags, and all the hosts of the birds of the sea--if i were to go on naming them i should fill every page of this book and never even begin my story. and as they flew each uttered his own cry, so that what with the calling and the screaming, the whistling, warbling, chirping, and chattering, the air was filled with a mighty sound that echoed to the very ends of the world. when all the birds were duly assembled the eagle addressed them thus: "listen, brothers," said he, "i have called you together in order that we may choose a king, for it is not fitting that the lion, that earth-bound creature, should continue to reign over the free company of the birds. we are distinguished from the beasts by our power of flight, and it therefore seems to me that the crown of sovereignty should be given to the one amongst us who possesses that power in the fullest degree. what do you say? shall we test this matter, and let him who can fly nearest to the sun be king?" a confused chorus of cries answered his question, one bird speaking against another. "what is flight compared to song?" asked the nightingale. "let the sweetest singer among us reign." the canary and the throstle and the blackcap all agreed with the nightingale, but they were shouted down. "beauty, beauty!" cried the peacock. "that is the test! a king should be resplendent in gay robes!" and he spread his gorgeous tail. "aye, there speaks wisdom," gobbled the turkey, turning red in the face, and strutting up and down. "what do you say, brother," he asked the cock. "shall we arrange it so?" [illustration: "is our king then only to be looked at?"] "a fig for gay feathers!" cackled the ostrich. "is our king then only to be looked at, or is he to do nothing all day but chirp and twitter foolish songs? as for flying, i found my wings of so little use that i gave up using them long ago. my idea is that we should settle this matter by a running race!" and so the birds went on quarrelling and disputing until at last the eagle called for silence, and, addressing the company again, insisted upon the adoption of his own plan. he spoke sternly and menacingly, and as all the birds went in fear of his curved beak and sharp talons, no further objections were raised. it was agreed that the trial should take place at once, and the cock was chosen to give the signal for the start. very proud of the honour, he stationed himself on a little grassy knoll, and having ascertained that everybody was ready, gave a loud and clarion call. there was the sound as of a rushing mighty wind as all the birds sprang into the air. only the eagle remained in his place, looking after the others a little contemptuously. so confident did he feel in his ability to outfly them all, that he allowed them at least five minutes start. then, very leisurely, he spread his wings and soared. up, up, up he went; he overtook the stragglers on the fringe of the crowd, passed through the thickest press, outdistanced the foremost flyer of them all. still up and up he soared, exalting in his strength and power, until the birds flying far below were hidden by the clouds. then he hung for a moment, motionless on extended wings, for he was a little wearied by his efforts. all of a sudden he heard, above his head, a tiny _twit, twit, twit_, and looking up, saw, to his surprise, the golden-crested wren, one of the smallest of the birds, flying merrily above him. "i have outdistanced you. i am king! i am king!" cried the wren in his joy. "we will see," said the eagle grimly; and once again he beat his mighty wings and soared. at the end of a further five minutes, he stopped again, only to hear, as before, the wren's cheerful twitter above him. again and again the same thing happened. try as he might, the eagle could not outdistance the tiny bird, and at last, worn out with his exertions, he was obliged to give up the contest, and to descend, crestfallen, to the earth again. [illustration: birds going to the race] and how did the little wren, which is certainly not famed for its powers of flight, come to be able to defeat the mighty eagle? by a very simple trick! when the eagle started on its flight the wren was safely perched upon his back. there he clung until the eagle stopped flying, when it was an easy matter to rise from his place and fly a yard or two higher. when the eagle began to fly again, the wren again took its place on his back, and this continued time after time until the great bird was exhausted. [illustration: there was the sound as of a rushing mighty wind] although nobody suspected the trick which the wren had played, the other birds were very indignant when they heard the wren declare that he had won the contest. "you, king!" they cried. "an insignificant thing like you! it would be a disgrace to us if we were to suffer it. we would rather be ruled by the lion! at any rate, he had majesty of deportment and dignity. you have neither grace nor wisdom, strength nor beauty. away with you before we tear you to pieces!" the wren was as perky as you please, and for only answer he flew to the boughs of a tree, whence he looked down on them all with his head on one side, chirping, "i am king! i am king. bow down and make obeisance!" a great cry of anger arose. "kill him! kill him!" screamed the hawk. "tear him to pieces!" "you will have to catch him first!" twittered the wren, and as the hawk made a rush at him, he popped into a hole in the trunk of a tree--a hole so small that nobody could get at him. from the shelter of that safe retreat he continued to gibe at the birds, issuing commands, and asserting that he was their king. what was to be done? nobody could get at the wren, and yet all the birds felt that he should be punished for his impudence. a consultation was held, and it was finally decided to set the owl as a guard at the mouth of his hole. "sooner or later," said the eagle, "he will have to come out in order to get food, and then we will have him. if, however, he elects to stay where he is, let him; either way our purpose will be served." so the owl mounted guard by the hole in the trunk of the tree, and having given him the most careful instructions not on any account to let the wren escape, the other birds flew away. all that day the owl remained vigilant at his post, and though the wren put his head out of the hole a hundred times, he always found his guard keeping careful watch. night fell, and a great silence fell upon the woods, but still the owl kept awake for hour after hour, watching with unwinking eyes. at last, towards morning, his vigilance relaxed a little. his head sank forward on his breast; and he fell fast asleep. hardly had his eyes closed than, _rip!_ the wren darted out of his hole, and the next moment he had vanished among the trees. when the birds returned the next morning they were furious to find that their prisoner had escaped. "unfaithful servant," they cried, "you have betrayed your trust!" and they fell upon the owl to put him to death. with some difficulty he managed to escape, but ever since that time the birds chase the owl wherever they see him, for they are still angry with him. to keep out of their way he has to hide during the day and venture out only at night, when all the other birds are fast asleep. as for the golden-crested wren, he is known as the kinglet, or little king, to this day. [illustration] [illustration: donatus] a drum full of bees a certain regiment had for its drummer an old man named donatus. he was a good-for-nothing rascal, who spent most of his time in the tavern drinking and playing cards, but he was an excellent drummer for all that, and it was a fine sight to see him on parade days, marching along with the band, and playing on his drum with a flourish that was the envy of all the boys in the town. none of his companions in the regiment liked donatus, because of his fondness for playing practical jokes. there was hardly one of them whom at some time or another he had not hoaxed, and as most of his jokes were spiteful ones, nobody pretended to be sorry when one day the drummer was found cheating at cards, and being brought before the captain, was dismissed from the regiment. it was in vain that he pleaded for mercy, with the tears running down his face. the captain had forgiven him many times, and was determined not to do so again. "well," said donatus at last, "if i must go, i beg you, captain, to let me keep my drum. i have played on it since i was a lad of fourteen, and i know no other trade. if you take it away from me, i don't know how i am going to live, but with it i may perhaps manage to turn an honest penny or two." "very well, you old scoundrel," answered the captain. "keep your drum and take yourself off; only be quick about it, or you shall be soundly thrashed." so away went donatus with his drum on his back, and not having any particular place to go to, he just took the first road that came, and marched along it all day until he was forced to rest because his legs were so tired. setting his drum down in the middle of the road he sat upon it and began to wonder what he should do for food and a bed for the night. first of all he turned out his pockets to see what he could find, but there was nothing there except two sous and a pack of very greasy playing cards. donatus put them back again, with a sigh, and fell again to wondering how he was going to fare. now the road along which he had been walking was bordered by a dense forest, and suddenly donatus thought that if he were to get among the trees he could at least find shelter. so he shouldered his drum again and entered the wood. hardly had he done so than he heard a loud humming noise, and proceeding in the direction from which it came, he saw a swarm of bees hanging to the branch of a big tree. "here's fine fruit!" said he to himself, laughing. "i'll pluck them. they may come in useful one of these days!" so he took off the top skin of his drum, and having skilfully caused the swarm to drop inside the instrument, replaced the skin and went on his way. presently he came to a little house in the wood, and knocked at the door to ask for shelter for the night. the door was opened by a peasant woman of comely appearance, but with a very disagreeable expression of face. she looked the drummer up and down very sourly. "be off with you!" she said, "we want no soldiers here. we have seen your kind before, my man, and do not like them." and so saying, she very rudely shut the door in his face. "now what am i to do?" thought donatus ruefully. "night has fallen, and i am too weary to wander any farther. a plague take that hard-hearted vixen, who will not take pity on my misfortunes!" thus reflecting, he cast his eye about to look for a corner in which he might rest, and suddenly spied a heap of faggots piled up against the cottage wall. climbing to the top of the heap, he found that it was possible to reach the window of the attic, which fortunately stood open, so he lost no time in crawling inside, where he stretched himself out upon the planks to sleep. now the attic happened to be directly above the kitchen, and as there was a knot-hole in the wooden floor, the drummer could see everything that was going on in the room below. there was the peasant-woman busily preparing the supper, and the fragrant fumes which rose from the viands tickled the drummer's nose, and made the water run out of the corners of his mouth. after a time there was a loud knock at the house door, and the woman hurried to open it, admitting a man dressed in a long cloak. he was the village beadle, and a nephew of the woman's husband, but that good man had such a hatred of beadles that he could not bear to look at one, and his nephew never dared to come to the house while the husband was at home. his visits therefore were few and far between, but when he did come his aunt always feasted him right royally. this time she bade him welcome with great tenderness, helped him off with his cloak and sat him down at the table, upon which she placed a fine roast fowl, with a gammon of bacon and a bottle of wine. "ha, ha!" cried the beadle, rubbing his hands. "you are a famous hostess, aunt! my walk has given me an appetite, and i am just in a condition to do justice to your good victuals. here's health!" and he filled a glass with wine and drained it to the dregs. [illustration: there was a knot-hole in the wooden floor] "gr-r, you greedy fellow!" muttered the drummer, who was lying full length in the attic above with his eye to the knot-hole. "i hope it may choke you!" and he watched eagerly while the beadle began to fall to upon the roast fowl. suddenly the feast was interrupted by another loud knock at the door. "my husband!" cried the woman in great agitation. "he has come back unexpectedly. if he finds you here, something terrible will happen, for he cannot bear the sight of a beadle. quick! jump into this chest and pull down the lid, while i clear away all signs of the supper!" the beadle, who was just as frightened as his hostess, lost no time in doing as she bade him. he hopped into the chest and pulled down the lid, while she hurried to clear the table. all this time the husband was thundering at the door, very impatient at being kept waiting. when at last his wife let him in, he flew into a temper and began to scold her. "i am very sorry, good man," she answered, "but i did not hear you knock, i was hard at work in the scullery." "bring me something to eat!" growled the man. "just as you like," answered his wife. "but if i were you i would not sup so late--you know how it always gives you indigestion. wouldn't it be better to go straight to bed?" "hold your peace, woman," said her spouse. "i am not sleepy!" and he sat himself down at the table. hardly had he done so than there came a loud knocking on the floor of the attic above his head. "what is that?" he cried, jumping up. "is there somebody in the attic?" "not that i know of," answered his wife. "nobody has been here all day except a soldier with a most villainous face, who came begging. i sent him away with a flea in his ear, i assure you." "did you so?" said her husband. "well, i believe he has managed to get into the attic. i remember now that i forgot to fasten the window." off he went upstairs to see, and sure enough, there was the drummer, who was not slow in explaining his presence. "well, come along downstairs and warm yourself," said the peasant. "my wife is just about to get my supper, and i expect there will be enough for two." nothing loath, the drummer accompanied his host to the kitchen, and sat down at the table, paying no heed to the venomous glances which the woman of the house cast at him as she slammed down a loaf of black bread and a bowl of milk. "ho, ho," said the drummer to himself. "there is fowl for the beadle and dry bread for the good man and his guest. well, we shall see!" and he gave a kick with his foot to the drum which was under the table. [illustration: "i did not hear you knock"] "what have you there?" asked the peasant, starting up at the sound. "oh, that is my oracle," answered the drummer coolly. "your oracle! does he, then, speak to you?" "certainly," answered the drummer. "he speaks to me three times a day." "faith," said the peasant, "i should very much like to hear him." so the drummer picked up his drumsticks and beat a lively tattoo upon the drum, and, aroused by the noise and vibration, the swarm of bees within began to buzz about in great commotion. "wonderful! wonderful!" cried the peasant delightedly, as he listened to the humming. "and do you really understand that language? what does the oracle say?" "he says," answered the peasant, "that there is no need for us to drink sour milk, because there is a bottle of wine standing by the wall, just behind the big chest." "ha, ha, ha! that is a good joke!" roared the peasant. "wine in my house, indeed! i only wish it were true!" "tell your wife to look behind the chest, and i'll warrant you she will find it." very unwillingly the dame went to the place indicated, and came back with the bottle of wine. she tried to look as surprised as her husband, but only succeeded in pulling a very wry mouth. "bring glasses, wife!" cried the peasant in great good humour. "we must drink the health of this famous oracle. do you think you can make him speak again, friend?" "certainly," said the drummer, beating another tattoo upon the drum. once again the bees began to hum loudly, and he leant down, pretending to listen to what they had to say. "well? well?" cried the peasant impatiently. "he says that if your wife will look in the cupboard, she will find a roast fowl and a gammon of bacon, which we can eat instead of this dry bread." "upon my word, that is a wonderful oracle!" cried the peasant. "make haste, wife, and look in the cupboard." [illustration: the swarm of bees within began to buzz about in great commotion] the dame could not refuse to obey, so she brought the good things and set them on the table, but if looks could have killed anybody the drummer would have been a dead man that day. little heed he paid to her evil glances, however, but applied himself to the food with a good appetite. before very long, between the two of them, there was nothing left of the chicken but the bones, and of the gammon but the scrag-end. [illustration: beating another tattoo upon the drum] "faith," said the peasant, unbuttoning his waistcoat, "that was a better meal than i expected to get this night. has your oracle any more agreeable surprises for us, good sir. i pray you, make him speak again." "with all the will in the world," answered the drummer, "but this will be the last occasion, for he only speaks three times a day." taking up his sticks, he played the war-march of napoleon on the drum, and the bees accompanied him as before with their loud humming. the peasant leaned forward eagerly to listen, while his wife stood by trembling with fear. "ah," said the drummer at last, looking at them both with a grave face. "this time my oracle tells me of a very serious matter. he says that in the big chest over there a big black demon is hidden!" "what! what!" cried the peasant, jumping up from his chair as though he had been stung. "a demon, did you say?" "precisely," answered the drummer. "but don't be alarmed. i will get rid of him for you. open the door and the windows and then place yourself here, by my side." [illustration: the beadle, too, stumbled and fell] the peasant made haste to do what he was told, and marching boldly up to the chest, the drummer seized the heavy lid and threw it open. immediately the beadle, who had heard everything and was not a little afraid of his own skin, jumped up, his figure entirely covered with the folds of his black mantle, and ran for the door. so sudden was his appearance, and so hasty his flight, that he ran with full force into the peasant, who had no time to get out of his way, and knocked that worthy man flying head over heels. the beadle, too, stumbled and fell, but quickly recovering himself, made blindly for the door, fell over the folds of his cloak, and tumbled head foremost into the ditch by the side of the road. there was a sudden splashing sound, a muffled murmur, and then silence. "poof!" said the peasant, when he had picked himself up and rubbed his limbs. "that was a narrow escape! i saw the demon quite plainly--he was all black, with fiery eyes, and a forked tail! thank heaven that your oracle warned us, good sir, or he would have devoured us as we slept!" the next morning, as the drummer and the peasant sat at breakfast, the latter said: "will you sell me that oracle of yours, drummer?" "that depends," answered his guest. "you know it is worth a great deal of money." "i will give you a hundred crowns," said the peasant, "and that is all i have in the world." "very well," said the drummer. "it is little enough for such a wonderful oracle as this is, but i have taken a fancy to you, and i cannot refuse. give me the money." so the bargain was concluded. donatus received the hundred crowns, and in return handed over the drum. then he bade farewell to his host and was just going out of the door when the latter called after him: "stay a moment--i have just thought of something. how am i to understand the language which the oracle speaks?" "oh, that is easy enough," answered donatus. "listen while i tell you what to do. at ten o'clock, precisely, not a minute before or a minute afterwards, go and plant your wife in the ground up to her armpits, then smear her face and shoulders with honey. that done, take the oracle with you into the attic where you found me, and having first bandaged your eyes, remove the top skin of the drum. wait for a quarter of an hour; then replace the skin, and take the drum with you to the place where you left your wife. in that very moment the meaning of the oracle's language will be revealed to you, and you will know as much as i know myself!" "many thanks!" cried the peasant delightedly. "good day to you, soldier, and good luck!" "and to you!" answered the drummer, and he went away laughing up his sleeve at the fellow's simplicity. about a mile farther along the road he saw a man working in the fields, and went up to him. "if you like, gossip," said he, "i'll do a bit of that digging for you." "with all my heart," answered the labourer, giving up his spade. [illustration: he had faithfully carried out all his instructions] "very well, but let us change clothes, for i do not wish to soil my uniform. here is a crown for you. go to the inn and buy yourself a glass of wine. when you return you will be surprised to see how much i have done." the exchange was made and the labourer departed. less than half an hour afterwards the sound of hoofs was heard on the road, and looking up, the drummer saw his late host, mounted on horseback, spurring furiously towards him. the man's face was purple with fury and he was muttering threats as to what he would do to the drummer when he caught him. he had faithfully carried out all his instructions, and had truly enough learnt the meaning of the humming noise within the drum. so had his wife; for when he went to her in the garden, he found her with her face and shoulders black with bees! abreast of the place where the drummer was working the peasant reined in his horse, and cried out, "hallo, you there. have you seen a soldier pass by this way?" "a man, master?" mumbled the drummer. "i said a soldier, you stupid oaf! a man in a red coat with a most villainous face. have you seen him, i say?" "why, yes," the drummer answered. "he went past here about a quarter of an hour ago and made his way into the wood yonder. you'll never find him, master!" he added, with a grin. [illustration: it was the labourer dressed in the drummer's clothes] "and why won't i?" "because he's gone by a secret way. i saw the road he took, and i know how he means to go, but even if i were to show you the way, you would never overtake him, for you would lose yourself in the wood." "i'll give you a crown if you'll help me to find the rascal," cried the peasant. "a crown! come now, that's high pay. you must want him very badly!" "i do indeed, and i'll break every bone in his body when i catch him." "here, lend me your horse, master," said the drummer. "i'll catch him for you, and not for a crown neither, but for nothing. i'd like to see him get a good thrashing, for he called me names as he passed by." "but can you ride?" asked the peasant. "can a duck swim?" answered the drummer scornfully. "dismount quickly or the scoundrel will get away. wait here for me," he added, as he rode off, "i'll be back in less than half an hour." off he went at a gallop, smiling to himself. "first of all a hundred crowns, and now a fine steed," thought he. "come donatus, your luck is standing you in good stead. it's odds but you'll win through yet!" he reached the wood, entered it, and the peasant waiting by the roadside, heard the sound of his horse's hoofs grow fainter and fainter until at last they died away. a quarter of an hour passed, half an hour, an hour, but the labourer did not return. the peasant, fuming with impatience, strode up and down the road, slashing at the grass and bushes with his stick. suddenly he heard footsteps, and saw a man in a red coat approaching. it was the labourer dressed in the drummer's clothes, who had drunk, not one, but several glasses of wine, and was now returning very pleased with himself and all the world. as he came he trilled out a merry song. "you knave! you villain!" cried the peasant, throwing himself upon him. "where are my hundred crowns? what! you would teach me the language of the bees, would you?--and my poor wife is stung all over, and cannot see out of her eyes. rascal! scoundrel! oh, you scum! take that, and that, and that!" and with each word, he lifted his heavy stick and brought it down heavily upon the shoulders of the unfortunate labourer. "here, hold hard, master!" cried the man, twisting and turning to get away. "what's the meaning of this? i'll have the law on you if you don't leave me alone! _ouch_, give over i tell you! what do i know about your hundred crowns or your wife?" "what!" cried the peasant, laying on harder than before. "do you add lying to your other crimes? you will tell me next you have never seen a drum!" and with one last mighty cut he stretched the unfortunate fellow at his feet. then, for the first time, he had a full view of his face, and saw that he was not the man he took him for. "was there ever such an unlucky man in all the world as i?" he moaned, as he turned wearily homeward, pursued by the curses and threats of the man he had beaten. "first i lose a hundred crowns, and then the love of my wife, who will never forgive me her injuries; and now, into the bargain, i have lost my horse! god forgive that drummer, and protect him if ever he falls into my hands!" i wish i could tell you that the unlucky peasant's desire was fulfilled, and that the drummer met with his deserts. unhappily my story ends here, and i do not know for certain what happened to him, but people do say that he never came out of the wood, but rode straight into a marsh and was drowned. if this is true, i am sure that nobody will be sorry! [illustration] [illustration: when the fifty rooks began to fly he could not get free] the drunken rooks it was the middle of winter and the ground was covered with snow. along the high road came mynheer van ash, the well-known merchant of alost, driving to the town with two immense casks of the liquor known as hollands, in which he traded. all unknown to the merchant, one of the casks had a hole in it, and as he drove along the liquor leaked out, and sank into the snow. in a field close by the roadside were a flock of fifty rooks, who were eagerly turning up the snow and pecking at the ground beneath in search of food. attracted by the strong and heady smell of the spilt liquor, they flew across to investigate, and having tasted some of the gin-sodden snow, liked it so well that they followed in the train of the cart, eating more and more of it, until at last they were so drunk that they could hardly stand on their feet. away they went to the fields again, and very soon afterwards the whole flock of them was fast asleep. presently, little pol, a peasant who worked in the neighbourhood, happened to cross the field on his way homeward, and saw the crows lying stiff and silent on the snow. "ah!" said he to himself. "here is a funny sight! fifty crows frozen to death with the cold. i'll take them home with me and pluck them. rook-pie is excellent eating, and such a find is welcome these hard times!" so, taking a cord from his pocket, he set to work to gather up all the rooks, and tie them together by the legs. this done, he proceeded on his way, dragging the rooks behind him. the roughness of the motion and the friction of the snow very soon aroused the rooks from their slumber. they all woke up, and finding their legs tied, began to flap their wings together with admirable precision. unfortunately for little pol, he had taken the precaution of fastening the cord to the belt round his middle, so when the fifty rooks began to fly he could not get free, and found himself being lifted into the air. up went the fifty rooks cawing and crying, and up too went little pol, calling in vain for help. they reached the clouds; they penetrated the clouds; they disappeared from sight. and since that day not a sign has ever been seen either of the fifty rooks or of little pol. [illustration] [illustration: the battle of the birds and beasts] [illustration: fighting] the battle of the birds and beasts one day as bruin the bear and isengrim the wolf were taking a walk in the woods they came to a big elm-tree with a hollow trunk. peering within in the hope of finding something to eat they espied a little nest supported by two notches in the bark. it was the tiniest and neatest little house one could wish to see, made of fresh green moss, with a small opening in the middle for a door, and was, in fact, the home of a little bird called the golden-crested wren. now among the country people the golden-crested wren is often known by the name of the kinglet, and being aware of this, isengrim saw a chance of playing a joke upon his companion. "look at this nest, bruin," said he. "what would you say if i told you it was a king's palace?" "that a king's palace!" laughed bruin scornfully. "a handful of moss in a hole! why, with one tap of my paw i could smash it to fragments!" "i should not advise you to do any such thing," said isengrim. "the king who lives in that palace is much more powerful than you think, and unless you are looking for trouble it would be best to leave his home alone." "what!" cried bruin, in a rage. "am i to be defied by a miserable little fowl in my own forest? that for your king!" and with one sweep of his paw, he reduced the nest to a shapeless heap of moss. "now let him revenge himself if he can," he roared. "i hereby declare war upon him and upon all his tribe. fur against feather! the four-legged animals against those that go on wings. we will put this matter to the test!" when the kinglet came home and found his nest destroyed he danced and chattered with anger. isengrim lost no time in letting him know who was responsible for the mischief, and took a spiteful joy in telling him of the bear's challenge. "very well," said the little wren. "kinglet is my name, and king shall be my nature. i will call all the winged creatures together and we will settle the matter by the test of arms." during the next two or three weeks there was a great coming and going in the forest as the two armies assembled. the air was full of the whirl and rustle of wings. from the nests under sunny banks came the wasps in thousands, each with his shining cuirass of black and yellow, and his deadly sting. the gadfly came too, and the tiny gnat, and the mosquito from the stagnant pools, with insects of every other sort and kind--more than one could count in a day. from his eyrie on the mountain crags the lordly eagle came swooping to take his place beside the nightingale and the sparrow. in that hour of need all rivalries were forgotten; the falcon and the hawk took their place in the ranks with the thrush and the robin. [illustration: the kinglet warned him to be very careful not to buzz] the bear, on his side, was not idle. swift-footed messengers were sent to every part of the land to summon the four-legged animals to arms. slinking through the undergrowth came isengrim's kin, the grey wolves, with lean flanks and fierce eyes shining. reynard brought his troop of foxes. crashing through the trees came the mighty elephants, waving their trunks and trumpeting defiance to the foe. out of the mud of river-beds, from the grassy plains, and the densest thickets of the forest, the animals came flocking--lions, tigers, camels, bulls, horses--if i were to name them all i should fill this book with their names. never had so many animals been brought together since the days of noah's ark. when everything was ready, the kinglet, who was a prudent leader, sent out a spy to try to gain information about the enemy's plans. for this purpose he chose the mosquito, who, as you may imagine, was neither easily seen nor easily caught, particularly as the kinglet warned him to be very careful not to buzz. under cover of the darkness he flew to the bear's camp, and succeeded in discovering the headquarters of the general staff, where the leaders of the animal army were conferring. just as the mosquito arrived, the bear and the fox were speaking together. "so it is settled," the bear was saying. "our great offensive will begin to-morrow. each of you knows what to do, i think? we have discussed everything, and nothing remains to do, but to press forward to a glorious victory." "you are right, my lord," said reynard, "but there is just one thing you have forgotten. how are we to know when the victory is won? we must have a standard-bearer." "of course," answered the bear, "we must have a standard-bearer. i was just going to say so. who shall it be?" "with all respect, my lord," answered reynard, "i propose that it should be i. my beautiful bushy tail will serve as a battle-flag. i will walk at the head of the army and hold my tail straight up in the air, as stiff as a poker. so long as i keep it like that, you will know that all is well; but if anything disastrous should happen, i will let it droop to the ground, so that our troops may have ample warning to take refuge in flight." "excellent," said bruin. "you have heard what reynard proposes. take notice that i hereby appoint him standard-bearer to our armies." [illustration: the great offensive began] so it was agreed, and having learnt all that he wished to know, the mosquito flew back to the kinglet with his news. the kinglet said nothing, but sent for the wasp, and gave him certain orders. at dawn the next morning the great offensive began, and from the very beginning things went rather badly for the armies of the winged animals. at two points of the line the bear and the tiger led dashing attacks against divisions commanded by the eagle and the hawk, and after long and fierce fighting, forced them to retire. high upon a knoll commanding the battlefield, in full view of the troops, stood the fox, with his bushy tail held proudly in the air. as he watched the struggle his lips curled in a grin of triumph. suddenly there was a piercing yell that rang out clear above the noise of battle. it came from the fox, who drooped his tail to the ground, and ran, howling with pain, to the rear. "we are lost! we are lost!" cried the animals, seeing the standard lowered. "traitors are amongst us! fly for your lives!" from point to point of the swaying battle-line the panic spread, throwing the army into hopeless confusion. before long the whole of the bear's troops were in retreat, and the victorious army of the winged-creatures swept on and over them. late that night bruin the bear and isengrim the wolf, both of them very bedraggled and wearied with much running, sat together gloomily in a distant part of the wood. presently they saw reynard the fox limping towards them, and immediately they rose and began to heap reproaches upon him. "traitor!" said bruin. "why did you lower the standard? in another hour we should have won." the fox looked at them sulkily. "why did i lower the standard?" said he. "because a wasp came and stung me right at the root of my tail!" [illustration] [illustration: the cat rushed out of the room] the end of the world once upon a time an old woman sat spinning in a room at the top of a high tower. beneath her chair chaton, her cat, lay peacefully sleeping. all of a sudden the spinning-wheel jarred and made a loud creaking sound. startled out of his sleep, chaton the cat rushed out of the room and bolted down the stairs as though a thousand demons were at his heels. in the yard he passed the house-dog who was sitting in front of his kennel. "hallo, chaton!" cried the dog. "where are you going to in such a hurry?" "i am fleeing the country," answered chaton. "i have just heard the sounding of the last trump! the end of the world is at hand!" "if that is so," said the dog, "i would like to run away too. may i come with you?" "certainly," answered chaton. "seat yourself on my beautiful curly tail." so the dog perched himself on the cat's tail, and off they went together. a little farther on they came to the farm-gate, and there, perched on the topmost rail, was the cock. "whither away, chaton?" asked the cock. "you seem to be in haste." "yes," said chaton. "i have heard the last trump, which proves that the world is coming to an end, and i want to get safely away before that happens." "take me with you, chaton dear," said the cock. "by all means," answered the cat. "jump on to my beautiful curly tail beside the dog." so the cock perched himself on chaton's tail, and now there were two passengers. away went the cat even faster than before, so as to make up for lost time, and presently they passed a rabbit who was nibbling the grass in a field. "chaton, chaton," cried the rabbit, "why are you running so quickly?" "don't stop me!" answered the cat. "i've heard the last trump! the end of the world is coming!" "oh, dear me!" cried the rabbit. "what an unfortunate thing! don't leave me here, chaton, for i am afraid to face the end of the world." "very well," said chaton. "jump on to my beautiful curly tail with the dog and the cock, and i'll take you with me." so the rabbit also perched himself on the cat's tail, and now there were three of them riding there. off went the cat again, but not so quickly this time, because of the weight on his tail, and before very long he came to a pond by the side of which a goose was standing. "now then, now then, what's the hurry?" asked the goose. "if you run so fast you'll overheat your blood and die of a fever." "it's all very well to scoff," answered the cat, "but you must know that the end of the world is coming. i have heard the last trump sound!" [illustration: the cat, the dog, the cock, the rabbit, and the goose] "my goodness!" said the goose. "this is dreadful! take me with you, chaton, and i'll be grateful for ever." "very well," said the cat. "jump on to my beautiful curly tail with the dog and the fox and the rabbit." so the goose also perched herself on the cat's tail, so now there were four passengers, and that made five altogether who were running away to escape the end of the world. [illustration: "see if you can espy a house"] all that day the cat kept on running, and towards dusk they came to a forest. "this seems a good place to rest," said chaton. "now then, master cock, fly to the top of a tree and see if you can espy a house in which we can take shelter." the cock flew to the top of a high tree and from there he saw a number of lights twinkling in the distance. the five fugitives thereupon set off in the direction from which the lights shone, and before long they came to a little village. all the people of the village had left their houses and were gathered together in the square, round a man dressed all in red, with a big red feather in his cap, who was addressing them. chaton and his companions pressed close to the edge of the crowd and were just in time to hear these words: "whoever finds the ring," said the man with the red feather, "and places it on the table in my palace to-morrow before dawn, shall have the five bags of gold which hang on my saddle bow." having said this, the man in red mounted his horse and rode away. [illustration: "jump on to my beautiful curly tail"] chaton went up to a little peasant who was standing in the crowd. "tell me, gossip," said he, "who is the man with the red feather, and what's all this about a ring and five bags of gold?" "why," said the peasant, "the man in red is the king of this country. he had a valuable ring which was kept in a tiny wooden case on the table by his bed. this afternoon a magpie flew in through the window, snatched up the case, and bore it away to its nest in the topmost boughs of the walnut tree on the village green. the king wants his ring back again, and will give the five bags of gold to anybody who will recover it for him." "i see," said chaton; "and why don't _you_ climb the walnut-tree and get the ring?" "because i have too much respect for my neck," answered the peasant, "and so has everybody else here. the boughs at the top of the tree where the nest is are so thin and slender that they would not bear the weight of a child, let alone a grown man. gold is good, but whole limbs are better, that's what i say!" "and i!" "and i!" echoed other villagers who had been listening to this conversation. "in my belief you are quite right," said chaton seriously. "let the king risk his own life if he is so anxious to recover his ring." but afterwards, when he had withdrawn with his companions to the shelter of the wood, he sang a different tune. "my friends," said he, "our fortunes are made! as soon as all is quiet i will climb the tree and get the ring; then you shall sit on my tail again and we'll all go off together to the king's palace and get the bags of gold!" he danced for joy, and the dog and the cock and the goose and the rabbit danced with him. an hour afterwards the cat climbed the tree and came down safely with the little wooden box. the rabbit gnawed it open with his teeth, and sure enough there was the ring inside it. "now," said chaton, "we will all go to the king's palace, but i am very tired with running all day. i propose that the dog takes a turn at carrying us." this was agreed. the other four got on to the dog's back and clung there while he ambled off as fast as he could along the road towards the palace. [illustration: the other four got on to the dog's back] just before dawn they came to a wide river. now it was the turn of the goose to work for the common good. she was quite used to the water, and one by one she took the other animals across on her back. shortly afterwards they arrived at the king's palace, and the cock flew up through the open window of the king's room with the ring in his beak, and placed it on the table by the bed. then he awoke the king with a loud crow and claimed the reward, which was willingly given. in great glee at their good fortune the animals went on their way, each with his bag of gold, and every one of them had by this time quite forgotten his fear about the coming of the end of the world. they went on and on until they came to a place where five ways met. then chaton said: "here we are at the parting of the ways. let us each choose a road, and part good friends." at this moment there came along a pig with a knife and fork stuck in his back. in his right ear was salt; in his left ear pepper, and mustard was on his tail, so that everybody who was hungry had only to cut themselves a slice of meat and sit down to feast. our friends gladly availed themselves of this good chance, and i who tell you this story would willingly have done the same, but as soon as i went up to the pig, he ran at me with his head down and sent me flying through the air, and through the window of my house, where i fell into the chair in which i am now sitting, finishing this story of the wonderful adventures of chaton, the dog, the cock, the rabbit, and the goose. [illustration] [illustration: the dragon] the reward of the world in days of old, when there were dragons in the land, a youthful knight was riding along the high road. it was a beautiful summer day, and the sun shone so warmly that the rider presently began to feel thirsty, so coming to a clear stream of water, he swung himself from the saddle and went to drink. as he parted the bushes to get to the water he heard a strange rumbling and roaring sound, and looking quickly in the direction from which it came he saw to his horror an immense dragon lying by the water-side pinned down by a huge mass of rock which had rolled down upon the creature as it came to drink. the knight's first impulse was to flee, for it is better not to meddle with dragons, even when accident has rendered them helpless, but before he could regain his horse the creature saw him, and cried, "good knight, come and help me, i pray you, to escape from my miserable position. this rock upon my back is slowly crushing me to death." the knight hesitated, and was in two minds what to do between his fear of the dragon and his pity for its unfortunate plight. seeing this, the creature called out again, saying, "if you will only set me free i will repay you richly, for i will give you _the reward of the world_." "_the reward of the world_," thought the knight, "that will indeed be worth having!" for he had often heard that dragons were the guardians of immense treasures. so, overcoming his fright, he went up to the creature, and at the cost of great exertion managed to roll away the stone that was pressing on its back. "poof! that's better," said the dragon, blowing a cloud of smoke out of its nostrils. "i had begun to think i was doomed to stay in that place for ever!" he rubbed his sore back reflectively with one scaly paw, and looked at the knight, who stood waiting. "well?" said he. "you promised me _the reward of the world_!" said the knight. "did i so?" asked the dragon, still tenderly stroking his back. "well, you shall have it!" and suddenly he launched himself upon the knight, winding his horrible coils around his body, and almost crushing him to death. the unfortunate young man struggled feebly, but he was powerless in the grip of the monster. "your promise!" he gasped. "is this my reward for having saved your life?" "certainly," replied the dragon. "this is _the reward of the world_. i am keeping my word!" "i don't believe you," said the knight. "it is a trick to excuse your treachery. what a fool i was to trust a dragon's word!" [illustration: an immense dragon lying by the water-side] "it is just as i say," the dragon replied. "but i confess i owe you something, and i should hate to eat you feeling that you had a grievance. i'll tell you what i'll do. i'll submit this question to the first three people we meet along the road, and if they decide in my favour you must accept the verdict. is it agreed?" "agreed," said the knight, who was glad of any chance to escape from the dragon's coils, so the creature released him, and the two set off together down the road. they had not gone far before they met the dog. "stay a moment, master dog," said the knight. "what do you understand by _the reward of the world_?" the dog replied, "when i was young i was a splendid watch-dog, and guarded my master's house against all comers. in those days everybody made a fuss of me. i had plenty of good food to eat, and my own particular place before the fire. now, alas! i am old. my sight is so weak and my powers so feeble that i can no longer work for my living, and in consequence everybody kicks me out of their way. i eat what i can get, which is not much. even the children throw stones at me, knowing that my teeth are not sharp enough to bite, and wherever i go people say, 'there is that beastly hound again! chase him away with a stick!' that is _the reward of the world_." [illustration: "my sight is so weak and my powers so feeble"] there was little comfort for the knight in this, nevertheless he did not give up hope, but accosted the next creature they met, which happened to be a horse. "what is _the reward of the world_?" the knight asked him. "listen," said the horse bitterly, "and i will tell you. all my life i have laboured diligently for one master. day in and day out i dragged his cart to market, working myself to skin and bone in his service. now i am grown old and my strength begins to fail, so that i can no longer earn my keep. to-day i heard him say that he was going to send me to the knackers' yard and sell my poor old carcass for a couple of crowns. that is _the reward of the world_, young master, and may heaven preserve you from it!" "you see!" said the dragon, as the two went on, "my words are already justified. come, be sensible and let me eat you without further ado!" "no," said the knight, "we have still one person to ask. here comes a fox. let us see what he has to say about the matter. reynard, what do you understand by _the reward of the world_?" "how do you mean?" asked the fox. "what is the case in point?" "well, you see," explained the knight, "i found this dragon in a position of uncommon peril, and he promised, if i would rescue him, to give me _the reward of the world_. the question now arises as to what _the reward of the world_ is." "i see," said reynard thoughtfully. "his life was in danger, you say? how was that?" "a huge stone had fallen on to his back, pinning him down so that he could not move. i rolled the stone away, and set him free." the fox scratched his head and pondered. "if you don't mind," said he, "i'd rather like to have this matter made a little clearer. where did all this happen?" "a little farther back along the road, by the side of the stream." [illustration: "does the dragon mind getting under the stone again?"] "i'll come and look at the place!" so the knight led reynard to the banks of the stream, where he stood gazing for a time at the big stone. "i want to be quite sure i understand all the circumstances," said he at last. "does the dragon mind getting under the stone again for a moment, so that i can see exactly how he lay?" "not at all," said the dragon politely, and he lay down on the bank, while the knight and the fox together rolled the stone on top of him. "splendid!" said reynard, when the dragon was safely pinned down. "now everything is as it was before!" then turning to the knight, he added, "if you, knowing what you know now, care to release him again, you are at liberty to do so, but...." and he winked slyly. there was no need to say more. "i am really very much obliged to you," said the knight, as he walked off down the road with reynard, leaving the dragon still under the stone. "that was a capital idea of yours, and it certainly saved my life. i would like to show my gratitude in some way, and i shall be honoured if you will accept my hospitality for a few days." reynard needed no pressing, but went home with the young man there and then, and thoroughly enjoyed the good fare with which he was provided. since, however, a fox is always a fox, no matter what company he is in, master reynard could not forbear from stealing, and every night he crept into the hen-house and killed one or two chickens. when the knight discovered this he was very angry, and picking up a big stick he gave the fox a good thrashing and drove him forth. "that is _the reward of the world_," he said to himself, as he watched reynard disappearing into the distance. but whether he was referring to the way the fox had treated him, or to his own treatment of the fox, i cannot say. [illustration] [illustration: nothing was left of the fishes] one bad turn begets another tybert the cat and courtoys the dog were very great friends--that is to say they were as friendly as their natures would let them be. both of them were exceedingly greedy and selfish. the cat was spiteful and the dog was sullen. master tyb was always willing to give up to the dog what he did not need himself, and on his part, courtoys never stole the cat's food while the cat was looking. neither was loath to play a mean trick upon the other if he could do so without injury to himself, but except for these little matters they were quite in accord, and very friendly, as i said before, and on the whole they got on very well together. there came a time when, in spite of tybert's shyness and courtoys' strength, they could by no means find anything to eat. for two days not a morsel of food had passed the lips of either; and this made them very bad tempered. "i wish i'd never seen you," said courtoys to tyb. "a fine partner you are, upon my word, when you can't find food for us. where are those wonderful wits of yours, of which you are always boasting." "in my head," answered tyb spitefully. "and such as they are, they have to do duty for two. if you'd talk less, and think more, and use your eyes, we would be better off. here is a cart coming along the road; perhaps we shall find our dinner inside it!" sure enough, a heavy wagon was rumbling along the road towards them, driven by a peasant with a round and rather stupid face. as it came nearer, tyb and courtoys sniffed the air, and the water ran out of the corners of their mouths. "fish," said tybert ravenously. "fish!" echoed courtoys. "here's a chance to exercise those wits of yours. how can we get it?" "i have a plan," answered the cat. "come quickly and hide yourself with me in the ditch until the wagon has passed, and i will tell you all about it!" so it was done. the wagon rumbled by, the scent of the fish with which it was laden filling the air, and the driver went on calmly smoking his pipe, little dreaming that four hungry eyes were gazing at him through the bushes that bordered the side of the road. "now then," cried tybert, "our time has come. follow the wagon and don't let it out of your sight for a moment, but take care that the driver does not see you. i shall go on in front and stretch myself out on the road, pretending to be dead. it's odds but what the driver, seeing me lying there, will covet my skin, and will pick me up and throw me into the cart. once there, i'll throw the fish out to you, and you will know what to do with it." "oh, yes, i'll know what to do with it," said courtoys to himself, with a grin, and, keeping well out of sight of the driver, he followed the wagon. [illustration: the biggest and fattest fish] tybert's plan worked to perfection. he ran on for about a quarter of a mile, keeping to the fields bordering the road, and then stretched himself out at full length, with his mouth open as though he were dead. "oho!" said the peasant, as he drove up. "what's this? a dead cat! i'll take him with me, and sell his skin for a few sous. this time next week some fine lady will be wearing him round her neck, thinking he's sable." and with that he dismounted, picked up the cat and slung him carelessly into the wagon on top of the heap of fish. [illustration: stretched himself out at full length] hardly was he back in his place, than tybert arose and began to pick out the biggest and fattest fish and throw them into the road. he had to be very careful in doing this, because now and again the peasant turned his head. once when a very big fish was tumbled out, the noise of its fall aroused the peasant, who swung round sharply, and tybert was only just in time to avert discovery by laying himself out and pretending to be dead as before. when he had thrown out what he considered was a sufficient quantity, tybert rested awhile, so that the dog could collect the spoils, and then jumped from the wagon to go and claim his share. when he came up to courtoys, however, he found to his dismay that nothing was left of the fish but a heap of bones. "that was a splendid plan of yours, brother," said courtoys, licking his lips. "the fish were delicious, and i hardly feel hungry at all now! do make haste and take your share!" and he waved his paw invitingly towards the heap of bones. tybert gave him one look, and then grinned as though in enjoyment of an excellent joke. not by word or action did he give any sign of the anger which was consuming him, but he determined to have his revenge. a day or two later his chance came. lurking in his usual stealthy way in a farmyard, he saw the farmer go into the house with a fine big ham, which he hung by a cord on a nail in the kitchen wall. away he ran to courtoys and told him what he had seen. "well," said courtoys surlily, "and what about it?" "why," answered tybert. "there is no reason why we should not feast on that ham, you and i. it will be the easiest thing in the world to steal it. the latch of the kitchen window is broken, and it cannot be locked. all you have to do is to go there to-night, creep through the window, pull down the ham, and throw it out to me." "why can't you get it yourself?" asked courtoys suspiciously. "ah," said the cat, "i am not strong enough to pull it down." "and what about the farmer's dogs? i seem to remember hearing they are savage brutes!" "well, of course, if you're _afraid_ ..." answered the cat disdainfully. "afraid yourself!" cried courtoys. "you leave this to me." so that very night, when the moon had set, the two crept into the farmyard, and the dog managed to get through the window into the kitchen unobserved. the next moment he had pulled down the ham and had thrown it out of the window to tybert, who was waiting below. tybert seized it in his mouth and ran off, but as soon as he reached the gate he gave a series of such blood-curdling miaows, that he roused every dog on the farm. out they came, hair bristling, and teeth flashing, just in time to catch our friend courtoys as he jumped down from the window. then occurred a ferocious fight. with his back to the wall courtoys put up a sturdy resistance, but he was very badly mangled indeed before he managed to escape. with one ear torn off and one eye closed, bleeding from many wounds and panting with his exertions, he limped painfully up to where the cat awaited him. "my poor friend," cried tybert. "are you badly hurt? never mind, the ham was worth it--it simply melted in the mouth. i have already eaten my share, and i willingly give you yours!" so saying, he pointed to the greasy string by which the ham had been suspended, and which was now all that remained. courtoys gazed at it blankly. "you see," explained tybert calmly, as he prepared to take his departure, "a cord is worth a good many fishbones!" [illustration] [illustration: "why are you blowing your soup?"] the peasant and the satyrs one cold winter's day a peasant set out on a journey which led him through the depths of a forest into which he had not hitherto been. the result was that he lost his way, and after wandering about for many hours in the hope of finding it again, he found himself, just as dusk was coming on, in a little clearing where he was overjoyed to see a small house with a cheerful light in the window. "here is a chance of supper and a bed," thought the peasant, and he made haste to go up to the cottage door. now this house in the clearing was not inhabited by men, but by some strange forest folk who were called satyrs. if you want to know what they were like, you must look at the pictures. certainly the peasant had never seen anything like them before, although he had often heard of them, and when he nearly tumbled over the little satyr children who were playing in the snow outside the house door, he was the most surprised man in all those parts. it was too late to draw back however, so he went boldly up to the door and gave a loud knock. "come in!" cried a gruff voice, and the peasant accordingly went in and found himself facing the father of all the satyrs, who had a long beard and a pair of horns jutting from his forehead. the poor fellow's knees trembled underneath him for fright, especially when he saw all the other satyrs, the mother and the uncles and the aunts, glowering at him. "please forgive me for my intrusion," said he, "but i have lost my way in the woods, and i am half dead with hunger and cold. it would be an act of great kindness if you would give me some food and allow me to take shelter for the night." so saying, to give point to his remarks, he set to work to blow upon his chilled fingers, which indeed were blue with the cold. "why are you blowing your fingers?" asked the father of all the satyrs curiously. "why, to warm them," answered the peasant, and he blew harder than before. "well, sit down," said the satyr. "as it happens we are just about to have supper, and you are welcome to share it with us." so the peasant sat down to supper, and all the satyr family sat down too, and watched him with big unblinking eyes, so that he felt very uncomfortable. a big basin of soup was set before him, and finding it very hot, he began to blow upon it. at this all the satyr family cried out in surprise, and the father satyr said, "why are you blowing your soup?" "to cool it," answered the peasant. "it is too hot, and i am afraid it may scald my mouth." [illustration: the satyrs' village] [illustration: "there is no place in my house for a man who can blow hot and cold"] another and a louder cry of surprise came from all the satyrs, but the father cried out loudest of all, and seemed very indignant. "come," he said, advancing to the peasant and taking him by the collar. "out you go! there is no place in my house for a man who can blow hot and cold with the same breath. that smells too much of sorcery or magic. out you go, i say, and practise your spells in the forest." so the poor peasant had to go supperless and spend the night in the woods, with no shelter but the trees, and the snow for coverlet. and, if you wish to know when all this happened, all i can tell you is that it was a very long time ago, in the days when fishes flew, and cats had wings. [illustration] [illustration: the two friends] the two friends and the barrel of grease a dog and a wolf who were very great friends set up house together, and agreed to share equally any food they might obtain. one day they managed to steal a barrel of grease from the house of a countryman who lived close by, and having no immediate need of it, they decided to put it away until the winter, when they might be glad of anything they could get to appease their hunger. so the barrel of grease was carefully hidden away in the cellar. all went well for some time, and then the wolf began to think longingly of the hidden store. every time he thought of the grease he imagined himself licking it up, and at last he could withstand the temptation no longer, so he went to the dog and said: "i shall be out all day to-morrow. a cousin of mine has just had a little son, and he has sent for me to go and be godfather at the christening." "very well, my friend," answered the dog. "go by all means. they have paid you a great honour by asking you, and of course you cannot refuse." the wolf departed, but he went no farther than the cellar, where he spent the whole of the day by the barrel of grease, eating and eating until he could hold no more. late at night he returned, licking his chops, and the dog said: "well, my friend, did everything go off well?" "splendidly, thank you!" answered the wolf. "good! and what name did they give the child?" "oh," said the wolf, thinking of the barrel of grease, "they called him _begun_." "what a strange name!" cried the dog, "i never heard the like of it in my life. however, every one to his taste!" a day or two later the wolf once again began to think of the delicious food in the cellar, so he told the dog that he had just received another summons from a different cousin, who also had a baby to which she wished him to stand godfather. "i wish to goodness they would leave me alone!" he said, pretending to be very much annoyed. "anybody would think that i had nothing else to do but to stand godfather to other people's brats!" "you shouldn't be so good-natured," laughed the dog. "it is clear that you make a very good godfather, or you would not be so much in demand." away went the wolf and spent a second satisfying day with the barrel of grease. when he returned the dog asked him the name of the child. "_half-done_," said the wolf. "bah!" cried the dog, "that is an even sillier name than the other. i can't think what parents are coming to--in my time plain jean or jacques was good enough for anybody." the wolf made no reply, being in fact fast asleep, for he had dined very well, and was drowsy. a day or two afterwards however, he played the same trick again, and devoured the last of the fat in the barrel. this time, when asked the name of the child to whom he had stood godfather, he answered: "_all-done_." [illustration: "where has all our grease gone?"] the dog had no suspicion of the way he had been deceived, and all went well until the winter came and food became difficult to procure. then one day the dog said: "it seems to me that the time has come to tap our barrel of grease. what do you say, friend? weren't we wise to put it away for a time like this!" "i believe you," answered the wolf. "come then, let us go to the cellar and enjoy the fruits of our prudence." so off they went to the cellar, where they found the barrel in the very place they had left it, but with nothing inside it. the dog looked at the wolf, and the wolf looked at the dog, and of the two the wolf seemed the more surprised. "what's this?" cried the dog. "where has our grease gone?" then, looking at the wolf suspiciously: "this is some of your work, my friend!" "oh, indeed!" said the wolf, "and since when has it been proved that dogs do not like grease?" "you mean to accuse me of stealing it?" cried the dog angrily. "one of the two of us must have taken it, for nobody else knew it was here!" "it was certainly not i." "well," said the wolf, "it is no use squabbling over the matter. fortunately there is a way of discovering which of us is the culprit. obviously the one who has eaten all that grease must be absolutely full of fat. let us both go to sleep in the sunshine. at the end of an hour or two the heat will melt the grease which will soak through and show on the body of the one who is the thief." feeling quite secure in his innocence, the dog willingly agreed to this plan, and the two went out and lay down in a sheltered place, where the heat of the sun was strong. after a time the dog began to yawn, and in less than half an hour he was sound asleep, but the wolf had a good reason for not following his example, and although he closed his eyes to deceive his friend, he remained wide awake. presently, having made sure that the dog was slumbering peacefully, he arose and tiptoed softly down to the cellar. there he collected with his long tongue, every bit of the grease that still remained sticking to the sides and bottom of the barrel, and returning to the sleeper, carefully smeared the grease over his jaws, back, and thighs. several times he did this, until the dog was covered with a thin greasy film. then he lay down again and once more pretended to sleep. a little while afterwards the dog woke up, and found the grease all over his body. he could not make out how it got there, and while he was still regarding himself with a look of blank surprise, the wolf cried: "ah, now we know who was the thief! the grease has betrayed you, my friend!" the poor dog looked very sheepish, and had not a word to say for himself. he puzzled over the matter until his head ached, and at last he came to the conclusion that he must have been sleep-walking and have stolen the grease without knowing it--a conclusion with which the wolf entirely agreed. [illustration] [illustration: mrs. bruin and reynard] why the bear has a stumpy tail one very cold winter, when the ground was covered with snow and the ponds and rivers were frozen hard, reynard the fox and all the other animals went out to enjoy themselves by sliding and skating on the ice. after a time reynard began to feel hungry, so he wandered off by himself in search of something to eat. he nosed about here, and he nosed about there; he lay in wait behind bushes in the hope of being able to catch a bird; he lurked by the walls of farmhouses ready to spring out upon any unsuspecting chicken that might show itself, but all in vain. the birds were wary, and the fowls were all safe in the hen-houses. [illustration: "after a time the fish will come to bite at it"] disappointed with his lack of success reynard betook himself to the river, now covered with a glistening sheet of ice, and there, under the shelter of a bank, he found a hole in the ice which had not been frozen over. he sat down to watch the hole, and presently a little fish popped up its head for a breath of air. reynard's paw darted, and the next moment the unfortunate creature lay gasping on the ice. fish after fish the fox caught in this way, and when he had quite satisfied his hunger he strung the remainder on a stick and took his departure, not forgetting first of all to offer up a prayer for the repose of his victims. he had not gone far before he met mrs. bruin, who had also come out in search of something to eat. when she saw reynard with his fine catch of fish, she opened her eyes, i can tell you, and said: "wherever did you get all those fine fishes from, cousin? they make my mouth water! i am so hungry that i could bite the head off an iron nail!" "ah," said reynard slyly, "wouldn't you just like to know!" "it is what i'm asking you," said mrs. bruin. "you would surely not be so mean as to keep the good news to yourself!" "i don't know so much about that," answered reynard, "but i have a certain fondness for you, cousin, so come along with me and i will show you the place where i caught the fish." nothing loath, the bear followed, and presently they came to the hole in the ice. "do you see that hole, cousin?" said reynard. "that is where the fish come up to breathe. all you have to do is to sit on the ice and let your tail hang down into the water. after a time the fish will come to bite at it, but don't you move. sit quite still until the evening; then you will find a score of fishes on your tail and you can pull them out all together." mrs. bruin was delighted with the plan and immediately sat down and dipped her tail into the water. [illustration: "all you have to do is to sit on the ice"] "that's the way," said reynard. "now i'll just be walking home to see to my dinner, but i'll be back presently. be careful to keep quite still, or you'll spoil everything!" so for the next three hours mrs. bruin sat on the ice with her tail in the water, and very cold it was, but she consoled herself with the thought of the delicious meal she would have when the fish were landed. late in the afternoon reynard returned. "well, cousin," said he, "how do you feel?" "very cold," said mrs. bruin, with her teeth chattering. "my tail is so numb that i hardly know i've got one!" "does it feel heavy?" asked reynard anxiously. "very heavy," said mrs. bruin. "there must be _hundreds_ of fish on it!" said reynard. he left the bank and walked round the bear, observing that the water in the hole had frozen over, and that mrs. bruin's tail was held firmly in the ice. "i think you may safely pull up now," he went on, "but you must be careful to land all the fish together. there is only one way to do that: you must give a strong, sharp, sudden pull and take them by surprise. now then, are you ready? one, two, three...!" [illustration: "one, two, three...!"] at the word three mrs. bruin rose on her hind legs and gave a mighty jerk, but her tail was so firmly embedded in the ice that it would not come out. "my word," cried reynard, "you have caught the whole river-full. persevere, cousin--now then, a long pull and a strong pull!" "ouf!" grunted mrs. bruin, "ouf, ouf ... ah!" and then she suddenly tumbled head over heels on the ice, as with one mighty jerk, she snapped her beautiful bushy tail clean off close to the roots. when she had gathered her scattered wits together well enough to understand what had happened, she went to look for reynard, but he had suddenly remembered an important engagement elsewhere, and was not to be found. and from that time down to this every bear has been born with a little stumpy tail. [illustration] [illustration: margot and the cat] the witch's cat once upon a time there was a wicked old witch who lived all alone in the topmost chamber of a tall and gloomy tower. there she sat day after day with her ugly head resting on her hands, peering out through a slit in the wall upon the countryside. her only companion was a big black tom-cat, who sat by her side in the darkened chamber, his eyes shining like green fire in the gloom. one day as the witch sat there, she saw a little girl gathering berries in the wood. the sight made her show her toothless gums in a malicious grin and she muttered to herself: "wait there, wait there, my ducky, my darling, till i come to you, for your flesh will be very sweet." then she put on a long cloak and took a walking-staff in her hand and went down the stairs. now the little girl, whose name was margot, had strayed very far from home in her eagerness to gather the ripe berries, and she was in a part of the country which was quite strange to her. had she happened to meet anybody on her way they would have warned her not to go near the witch's tower, but she had not met a soul all day, and so she had no idea of the dreadful danger that was threatening her. she went on gathering her berries, light-heartedly humming a tune, until her basket was nearly full, and then she sat down at the foot of a tree to rest. presently she saw an old woman coming towards her. it was the witch, who had muffled herself up in her cloak, so that her face could not easily be seen. "good-day, my dear," said the witch. "will you give me a few of those ripe berries?" "of course i will," answered margot. "take as many as you like, i can easily gather some more." so the witch took a handful of berries, and sat down by margot's side to eat them. and all the time she was eating she was gazing greedily at the little girl's white neck and rosy cheeks, but margot could not see the hateful look in the witch's eyes because the cloak hid her face. "where do you live, little girl?" asked the witch after a while. margot told her, and the witch said: "you must be very tired with walking all that way. if you will come to my house i will give you a bowl of milk and a slice of currant cake, and you shall see all the wonderful things that i keep in my cupboards." so margot went with the witch into the gloomy tower, not so much because she wanted the milk or the cake, but to see the pretty things in the cupboards, and no sooner was she within than the witch fell upon her, and bound her fast with a cord, and carried her up to the topmost room, where the cat was sitting blinking its green eyes. then the old witch opened the door of a dark cupboard, and pushed poor margot inside, for she meant to keep her there until she had grown bigger and fatter, so that she would make a more satisfying meal. to this end the witch brought her plenty of rich food every day, and from time to time she would feel margot's arm to see whether she was plump enough to go into the pot. poor child, how frightened she was, and how miserable at being kept in that dark cupboard all alone. she cried nearly all day long, but there was nobody to hear her except the witch's big black cat, and he was a silent animal who did not show his feelings. margot was almost as sorry for him as she was for herself, for the witch often beat him unmercifully, and the girl tried to comfort him by giving him pieces from her dinner, which she pushed out through the crack under the door. [illustration: she meant to keep her there until she had grown bigger and fatter] one day when the old witch had gone out as usual, leaving margot a prisoner, the girl was surprised to hear a voice speaking to her from the room beyond. "margot, margot," said the voice, "don't cry any more, but listen to me." "who are you?" asked the little girl. "i am the witch's cat," the voice went on. "i am going to push the key of the cupboard underneath the door. take it and let yourself out, but make haste, for you have no time to waste!" "thank you, thank you," said margot, when she found herself free. "but how is it that you are able to talk? i did not know that cats could speak." "they can't, as a rule," said the witch's cat, "but never mind that now. the witch may return at any moment, and we must get you safely out of her reach." "yes, yes," said margot, "i must go at once. i will run like the wind!" "that is no use," said the cat. "before you had got half-way home the witch would overtake you." "then what must i do? is there anywhere i can hide?" "when she returns and finds you gone she will ransack every corner of the tower. not even a mouse could escape her keen eyes." "oh dear! oh dear!" said margot, beginning to cry again. "do help me to escape, kind cat, and i will be grateful to you all my life." "of course i will help you," answered the cat, "that is why i let you out of the cupboard. take this piece of carpet, and when the witch has almost overtaken you, throw it on to the ground and it will turn into a wide river. that will delay her for some time, because she cannot swim, but if she manages to get across, and overtakes you again, throw down this comb, which will immediately change into a dense forest. you may plunge into it without fear, for a way will open before you between the trees, but the witch will have to cut a way through, foot by foot, with her knife; and long before she has done that you will be safely home." [illustration: paddling with her broom] margot thanked the cat, and having taken the carpet and the comb, she fled swiftly down the stairs. a short time afterwards the witch came home, and when she discovered that her prisoner had escaped she howled with rage. mounting to the very roof of the tower, she gazed out upon the countryside, and soon descried the figure of the little girl, running as fast as she could in the direction of her home. "i'll have you yet," muttered the witch, and away she went after her. margot saw her coming, and redoubled her speed, but all to no avail, for the witch gained upon her rapidly. soon she heard her hissing breath, and looking fearfully over her shoulder, saw the baleful look of triumph in her eyes. quickly then, margot took out the strip of carpet and laid it upon the ground. immediately it turned into a wide and swiftly flowing river. the witch gave a cry of rage, and tried to wade after her, but the flood mounted swiftly, first to her knees, and then to her waist. another moment and she would have been swept away, but taking a nutshell from her pocket she set it afloat upon the waters, muttering a charm as she did so. then the nutshell turned into a little boat, into which the old crone pulled herself, and, paddling with her broom, made shift to cross the river. the delay had given margot a good start, but the witch wore enchanted boots which enabled her to cover the ground at a wonderful rate. ten minutes more and she was once again at margot's heels. then the little girl drew out the comb and flung it behind her. immediately a dense forest sprang up, and margot fled into it, through an alley that opened itself before her. spluttering with anger, the witch drew her knife to hack her way through the wood, but long before she had cut a dozen yards margot was safely home and in her mother's arms. the old witch made her way back to the tower, and the things she said were so terrible that the very air was poisoned, and the grass by the roadside withered and turned black. no sooner had she set foot within her doorway, however, than she crumbled to dust, and a wind arose and blew the dust to all quarters of the heavens. so that was the end of the old witch, for her power ceased as soon as one of her victims managed to escape. as for the black cat, nobody ever saw him again, but it was whispered that he was really a prince whom the wicked old crone had captured years before, and given the shape of a cat by enchantment. by helping margot to escape he had released himself from the spell that bound him, and was enabled to return to his father's kingdom. [illustration] arthur rackham's illustrations the springtide of life: poems of childhood by algernon charles swinburne 10s. 6d. net the allies' fairy book 6s. net a christmas carol. by charles dickens 6s. net mother goose, the old nursery rhymes 6s. net arthur rackham's book of pictures 15s. net æsop's fables 6s. net the ring of the niblung by richard wagner. translated by margaret armour i. the rhinegold and the valkyrie ii. siegfried and the twilight of the gods 15s. net each undine by de la motte fouqué 7s. 6d. net a midsummer night's dream by william shakespeare 15s. net alice's adventures in wonderland by lewis carroll 6s. net rip van winkle (complete edition) by washington irving 15s. net the ingoldsby legends of mirth and marvel. by thomas ingoldsby, esq. 15s. net also a cheaper edition with 24 selected plates, 6s. net london: william heinemann printed at the complete press west norwood london transcriber's note words in italics were surrounded with _underscores_ and small capitals replaced with all capitals. a few errors in punctuation were corrected. otherwise the original was preserved. additional: "krekelput" on page 76 was translated in the footnote with "snail's well", a better translation would be "cricket's well". also, the chapter headers were left aligned in the original, this has not been changed. flemish legends by charles de coster with eight woodcuts by albert delstanche translated from the french by harold taylor london: chatto & windus mcmxx contents page i. the brotherhood of the cheerful countenance 1 ii. the three sisters 31 iii. sir halewyn 43 iv. smetse smee 101 illustrations the church of haeckendover frontispiece the little stone boy facing page 6 the man in white 52 sir halewyn in the wood 64 the song of the head 92 smetse caught by the two branches 108 in smetse's garden 126 the devil-king and the sack 150 translator's note there never was a book which needed less of an introduction than this one, unless it is that it should have an apology from the translator for his handling of so beautiful an original. but since so little is generally known of these legends and their author a word of information may be demanded. charles de coster flourished in the middle part of the last century. he was brought up in the court of a great dignitary of the roman church, and intended for the aristocratic university of louvain, but showed early his independent and democratic turn of mind by preferring the more popular university of brussels, to which he made his own way. here he fell in with a group of fellow-students and artistic enthusiasts which included félicien rops, with whom he was associated in a society called les joyeux, and afterwards in a short-lived review, to which they gave the name of that traditional belgian figure of joyousness and high spirits, uylenspiegel. it was in this that these legends first appeared, written in the years 1856 and 1857, and soon afterwards published in book form. belgian literature was not at that time in a very flourishing condition, and little general appreciation was shown of de coster's work, but it was hailed with enthusiasm by a few of the more discerning critics, and won him a place on a royal commission which was investigating mediæval state papers. after publishing another book, contes brabançons, likewise based on the folk-lore of his country, he seems to have withdrawn into himself and led the life of a dreamer, wandering about among the peasants and burying himself in the wide countryside of flanders, until he had completed his epic of the spanish tyranny, ulenspiegel, which has already been translated into english. none of these publications brought him any material recompense for his work, and he remained a poor man to the end of his life, in constant revolt against what he called the horrible power of money. [1] the primitive stuff of these legends is to be found scattered up and down, a piece here and a piece there, in the folk-lore of brabant and flanders. de coster, who had an intense love of this folk-lore and at the same time, as he said, "that particular kind of madness which is needed for such writing," set himself to give it a literary form. he has chosen to make that form so elaborate, and has worked his material to so fine a composition, that he must be considered to have produced an entirely original book. but he has not been unfaithful to his masters the people. sir halewyn, for instance, follows an old song. and the faust-story of smetse smee, the jovial and ingenious smith, who gets the better of his bargain with the devil in so wholly satisfactory a fashion, crops up in one form or another again and again. the legends were written in the idiom of the sixteenth century, the period to which the latest and longest of them roughly belongs. i believe that no more perfect example of pastiche exists in the language. but that is not of much interest to english readers, and i have made no attempt to reproduce the achievement. de coster found modern french, with its rigidity of form, unsuitable to his subject and inapt to his genius. he seems to have had a mind so perfectly in tune with the middle ages that one may well believe that he found it actually more natural to write in the still fluid language of rabelais than in that of his own day. the prose of the original is of arresting beauty, especially in sir halewyn; which, with its peculiarly flemish tale of faery and enchantment, still beauty and glowing hearths, and the sombreness of northern forests brooding over them, i feel to be the high-water mark of his achievement. at times it becomes so rhythmic that one can hardly decide whether it is prose or poetry. it is not difficult to believe potvin's report that de coster spent an immense amount of pains on his work, sometimes doing a page twenty times over before he was content to let it go. de coster has been spoken of as a mouthpiece of protestantism. protestant, of course, is the last word in the world to describe him. no one can have regretted much more than he the passing of that warm-hearted time before the reformation. one has but to read the story of the building of the church at haeckendover in the three sisters, or the prayer of the girl wantje to the virgin in the tale of the hilarious brotherhood to see how far this is true. it is only in smetse smee, when he comes to the time of the inquisition, that he bursts out with that stream of invective and monstrous mockery which made the polish refugee karski say of him, "well roared, fleming!" and even then it is spain rather than catholicism which is the centre of his attack, and philip ii who is his aiming-point. above all and before all de coster loved the simple peasant-people of his own land, with their frank interest in good things to eat and good beer to drink, their aptitude for quarrelling and their great hearts. all his chief portraits are painted from them. the old homely nobility of flanders, such as were the people of heurne in the tale of halewyn, he liked well enough, but he could not bear a rich man or a distant-mannered master of the spanish type. a tale is told of him and his painter friend dillens which may well stand as the key to his work. one day at carnival-time they were in ghent, and when the evening came dillens asked what they should do. "voir le peuple!" cried de coster, "le peuple surtout! la bourgeoisie est la même partout! va voir le peuple!" h. t. the brotherhood of the cheerful countenance i. of the sorrowful voice which pieter gans heard in his garden, and of the flame running over the grass. in the days when the good duke ruled over brabant, there was to be found at uccle, with its headquarters in the tavern of the horn, a certain brotherhood of the cheerful countenance, aptly enough so named, for every one of the brothers had a wonderfully jolly face, finished off, as a sign of good living, with two chins at the least. that was the young ones; but the older ones had more. you shall hear, first of all, how this brotherhood was founded: pieter gans, host of this same horn, putting off his clothes one night to get into bed, heard in his garden a sorrowful voice, wailing: "my tongue is scorching me. drink! drink! i shall die of thirst." thinking at first that it was some drunkard below, he continued to get into bed quietly, notwithstanding the voice, which kept crying out in the garden: "drink! drink! i shall die of thirst." but this persisted so long and in so melancholy a manner that at last pieter gans must needs get up and go to the window to see who it might be making so much noise. thence he saw a long flame, of great brightness and strange upstanding shape, running over the grass; and, thinking that it must be some poor soul from purgatory in need of prayers, he set about repeating litanies, and went through above a hundred, but all in vain, for the voice never ceased crying out as before: "drink! drink! i shall die of thirst." after cock-crow he heard no more, and looking out again he saw with great satisfaction that the flame had disappeared. when morning came he went straightway to the church. there he told the story of these strange happenings to the priest, and caused a fair mass to be said for the repose of the poor soul; gave a golden peter to the clerk so that others might be said later, and returned home reassured. but on the following night the voice began its wailing anew, as lamentably as if it were that of a dying man hindered from dying. and so it went on night after night. whence it came about that pieter gans grew moody and morose. those who had known him in former days, rubicund, carrying a good paunch and a joyous face, wont to tell his matins with bottles and his vespers with flagons, would certainly never have recognized him. for he grew so wizened, dried up, thin, and of such piteous appearance that dogs used to start barking at the sight of him, as they do at beggars with their bundles. ii. how jan blaeskaek gave good counsel to pieter gans, and wherein covetousness is sadly punished. it so happened that while he was moping after this fashion, passing his days in misery and without any joy of them, alone in a corner like a leper, there came to the inn a certain master jan blaeskaek, brewer of good beer, a hearty fellow, and of a jovial turn of mind. this visitor, seeing pieter gans looking at him nervously and shamefacedly, wagging his head like an old man, went up to him and shook him: "come," said he, "wake up, my friend, it gives me no pleasure to see thee sitting there like a corpse!" "alas," answered pieter gans, "i am not worth much more now, my master." "and whence," said blaeskaek, "hast thou gotten all this black melancholy?" to which pieter gans made answer: "come away to some place where none will hear us. there i will tell thee the whole tale." this he did. when blaeskaek had heard to the end he said: "'tis no christian soul that cries in this manner, but the voice of a devil. it must be appeased. therefore go thou and fetch from thy cellar a good cask of ale, and roll it out into the garden, to the place where thou didst see the flame shining." "that i will," said pieter gans. but at vespers, thinking to himself that ale was precious stuff to set before devils, he put instead in that place a great bowl of clear water. towards midnight he heard a voice more sorrowful than ever, calling out: "drink! drink! i shall die of thirst." and he saw the bright flame dancing furiously over the bowl, which was suddenly broken with a loud report, and this in so violent a manner that the pieces flew up against the windows of the house. then he began to sweat with terror and weep aloud, saying: "now 'tis all over, dear god, all over with me. oh, that i had followed the advice of the wise blaeskaek, for he is a man of good counsel, of excellent counsel! master devil, who are so thirsty, do not kill me to-night; to-morrow you shall drink good ale, master devil. ah, 'tis ale of fair repute throughout the land, this ale, fit for kings or for good devils like yourself!" nevertheless the voice continued to wail: "drink! drink!" "there, there! have a little patience, master devil; to-morrow you shall drink my best ale. it cost me many a golden peter, my master, and i will give you a whole barrelful. do you not see that you must not strangle me to-night, but rather to-morrow if i do not keep my word." and after this fashion he wept and cried out until cock-crow. then, finding that he was not dead, he said his matins with a better heart. at sun-up he went down himself to fetch the cask of ale from his cellar, and placed it in the middle of the grass, saying: "here is the freshest and the best drink i have; i am no niggard. so have pity on me, master devil." iii. of the songs, voices, mewlings, and sounds of kisses which pieter gans and blaeskaek heard in the garden, and of the brave mien wherewith master merry-face sat on the cask of stone. at the third hour blaeskaek came down and asked for news. pieter gans told his tale, and as he was about to go away again drew him aside and said: "i have kept this secret from my servants, lest they should go and blab about it to the priests, and so i am as good as alone in the house. do not therefore leave me, for it may happen that some evil will come of the business, and 'twould be well to have a good stomach in case of such event. alone i should certainly have none, but together we shall have enough for both. it would be as well, then, to fortify ourselves against this assault on our courage. instead of sleeping we will eat and drink heartily." "for that," said blaeskaek, "i am as ready as thou." towards midnight the two comrades, tippling in a low room, fortified with good eating, but not without some apprehension nevertheless, heard the same voice outside, no longer sorrowful, but joyous, singing songs in a strange tongue; and there followed divers sweet chants, such as angels might sing (speaking with proper respect to them all), who in paradise had drunken too much ambrosia, voices of women celestially soft, mewlings of tigers, sighs, noise of embraces and lovers' kisses. "ho, ho!" cried pieter gans, "what is this, dear jesus? they are devils for a certainty. they will empty my cask altogether. and when they find my ale so good they will want more of it, and come crying every night and shouting louder than ever: 'drink! drink!' and i shall be ruined, alas, alas! come, friend blaeskaek"--and so saying he pulled out his kuyf, which is, as you may know, a strong knife well sharpened--"come, we must drive them off by force! but alone i have not the courage." "i will come with you," said blaeskaek, "but not until a little later, at cock-crow. they say that after that hour devils cannot bite." before the sun rose the cock crew. and he had, that morning, so martial a tone that you would have thought it a trumpet sounding. and hearing this trumpet all the devils suddenly put a stop to their drinking and singing. pieter gans and blaeskaek were overjoyed at that, and ran out into the garden in haste. pieter gans, hurrying to look for his cask of ale, found it changed into stone, and on top of it, sitting horseback fashion, what seemed to be a young boy, quite naked, a fair, sweet little boy, gaily crowned with vine-leaves, with a bunch of grapes hanging over one ear, and in his right hand a staff with a fir-cone at the tip, and grapes and vine-branches twined round it. and although this little boy was made of stone, he had all the appearance of being alive, so merry a countenance had he. greatly alarmed were gans and blaeskaek at the sight of this personage. and fearing both the wrath of the devil and the punishment of the church, and swearing together to say no word about it to any one, they put the figure (which was but a few thumbs high) in a dark cellar where there was no drink kept. iv. wherein the two worthy men set out for brussels, capital city of brabant, and of the manners and condition of josse cartuyvels the apothecary. having done so much they set out together for brussels, there to consult an old man, apothecary by trade, something of a glutton, but liked well enough by the common folk on account of a certain hotch-potch he made, well seasoned with rare herbs, for which he asked a not unreasonable price. he was reputed by the devout to have commerce with the devil, on account of the miraculous cures which he effected in both man and beast by means of his herbs. furthermore, he sold beer, which he bought from blaeskaek. and he was hideous to look at, gouty, wizened, yellow as a guinea, wrinkled as an old apple, and with carbuncles on his neck. he lived in a house of mean appearance, in that part where you may now see the brewery of claes van volxem. gans and blaeskaek, coming thither, found him in his kitchen, making up his stews. the apothecary, seeing gans in such a piteous melancholy state, asked him if he had some ill whereof he wished to be cured. "he has nothing to be cured of," said blaeskaek, "save an evil fear which has been tormenting him for a week past." thereupon they told him the whole story of the chubby-faced image. "dear god!" said josse cartuyvels, for such was the name of this doctor of stews, "i know this devil well enough, and will show you his likeness." and taking them up to the top of his house, into a small room which he had there, he showed them a gallant image of that same devil, making merry with pretty maids and gay goat-foot companions. "and what is the name," said blaeskaek, "of this merry boy?" "i have no doubt it is bacchus," said josse cartuyvels. "in olden times he was a god, but at the gracious coming of our lord jesus christ"--here all three crossed themselves--"he lost at once his power and his divinity. he was, in his time, good company, and more particularly notable as the inventor of wine, beer, and ale. it may be, on that account, that instead of hell he is only in purgatory, where no doubt he has become thirsty, and by god's permission was allowed to return to earth, once only, no more, and there sing this lamentable song which you heard in your garden. but i suppose that he was not allowed to cry his thirst in countries where wine is chiefly drunk, and that he came accordingly to master gans, knowing well enough that with him he would find the best ale in all brabant." "true," said gans, "true, friend cartuyvels, the best in the duchy; and he drank up, if you please, a whole barrelful, without paying me so much as the smallest gold piece, nor silver, nor even copper. that is not the conduct of an honest devil." "ah!" said cartuyvels, "there you are in error, and do not perceive what is for your good and what for evil. but if you will take the advice i am about to give you, you may find a way whereby you can make clear profit from this bacchus, for he is, you must know, the god of jolly drinkers and good innkeepers, and i am disposed to think that he will do you a good turn." "well, then," asked blaeskaek, "what must we do now?" "i have heard that this devil loves warmth and sunlight. so take him out, first of all, from this dark cellar. then put him in some place whither the sun reaches, such as on top of the tall press which stands in the room where your customers sit and drink." "sweet jesus!" exclaimed pieter gans, "this is idolatry." "in no wise," said the apothecary. "i mean only this; that, put up where i tell you, sniffing the good smell of stoups and flagons, and hearing jolly talk, he will grow altogether frolicsome and happy. so may you bring christian comfort to poor dead souls." "but if," said pieter gans, "the priests should get wind of this statue, so shamelessly set up for all to see?" "they cannot find you guilty of sin, for innocence keeps nothing secret. you will show this bacchus openly to all your friends and relatives, and say that you found him buried under the earth in a corner of your garden. thus you will make him seem an ancient relic, as indeed he is. only take care to forget his name when you speak of him to any one, and, entitling him, as in jest, master merry-face, use this name for him always, and institute in his honour a jolly brotherhood." "so we will," answered pieter gans and blaeskaek together, and they then departed, not without having given the apothecary two large coins for his trouble. he did his best, however, to keep them back, so that they might partake of some of his heavenly hotch-potch, but pieter gans turned him a deaf ear, saying to himself that it was devil's cooking, unwholesome for a good christian stomach. so they left him and set out again for uccle. v. of the long conversation and great perplexity of pieter gans and blaeskaek in the matter of the deviling; and how they returned to uccle with a resolution taken. while they were on their way: "well, comrade," said gans to blaeskaek, "what is thy opinion of this apothecary?" "a dog of a heretic!" said blaeskaek, "a heathen, a despiser of all good and all virtue. for 'twas treasonable and wicked counsel he gave us." "true, my good friend, true. and is it not besides a great heresy to dare tell us that this deviling on his cask is he who invented beer, wine, and ale, when we have heard it preached every sunday in our church that st. noah, under the instruction of our lord jesus christ"--here both crossed themselves--"invented these things." "for my part," said blaeskaek, "i know i have heard that preached above a hundred times." here, seating themselves on the grass, they began to refresh themselves with a fine ghent sausage, brought by pieter gans against such time as they should feel hungry. "there, there," said he, "let us not forget the benedicite, my friend. so, perhaps, we may escape burning. for 'tis to god we owe this meat: may he deign to keep us always in his holy faith." "amen," said blaeskaek; "but, my master, between us we must certainly break up this wicked statue." "he who has no sheep fears no wolves. 'tis easy enough for thee to talk comfortably of breaking up this deviling." "'twould be a deed much to our credit." "but if he come back again to wail each night so piteously: 'drink! drink!' and if he turn angry with me and cast spells on my beer and my wine, and make me as poor as job! nay, better follow the advice of the apothecary." "aye, and if the priests learn of the statue, and call us both before the tribunal, and have us burnt as heretics and idolaters, what then?" "ah," said gans, "here are the good god on the one hand and the wicked devil on the other, fighting over our poor bodies, and we shall be pounded to nothing between them, alas, alas!" "well," said blaeskaek, "let us go to the good fathers openly, and tell them the whole affair." "alas, alas! we shall be burnt, my good master, burnt without mercy." "i believe there must be some way whereby to escape this danger." "there is none, my friend, there is none, and we shall be burnt. i feel myself already half roast." "i have thought of a way," said blaeskaek. "there is none, my friend, there is no way whatever, unless it be the clemency of the worthy fathers. canst see no pilgrim or wandering friar on the road?" "none." "if we see such a one we must give him all our sausage--have we said our grace for it?--and all the bread in our wallet, and humbly invite him into our house, to eat a quarter of roast lamb, well washed down with old wine. i have not much of that kind, but i will gladly give him all there is of it. canst not see such a one coming?" "no one," said blaeskaek. "but open those rabbit's ears of thine and hark to me: i will give thee good counsel, for i wish thee well, blubberer. we must follow the apothecary's advice in half-and-half fashion, so much only, you understand. 'twould be idolatry of the most shameless kind to put up this statue in the public hall." "alas, alas, by all the devils! yes, you are right." "very well, then we will put him in a cupboard, which shall be well fastened, but with an opening on the top to let in the air. therein we will also put a small keg of good beer, and ask him not to use it up too fast. in this way he will be, in fact, within the hall of the inn, and he will keep himself well hid for certain, for in his cupboard he will be able to take what pleasure he may from the songs of the drinkers, rattling of mugs, and clinking of bottles." "no," said gans to that, "no, we must follow wholly the apothecary's advice, for he knows more about devils than we. as for this deviling, we will do our best to satisfy him, according to our means. but in spite of it all, i fear we shall one day be burnt, alas, alas!" vi. wherein it is seen that the devil is not a good one; and of the evil trick which he played on the good wives of the drinkers. as soon as they reached the horn, the two worthies took out from the cellar the statue of the deviling and put it with great respect on top of a press which stood in the hall. on the morrow there came to this inn nearly all the men of uccle, brought together in this wise because on that day had been sold publicly in their stables two horses well bred by the late sheriff, jacob naeltjens. his son was in no mind to keep them, saying that a man's best steeds were his slipper-shoes. the men of uccle were surprised and delighted when they saw the statue of the youngster on the press, especially when blaeskaek told them that his name was master merry-face, and that it was proposed, by way of jest, to establish forthwith in his honour a jolly brotherhood. they were all willing to do this, and thereupon decided between them that no one should be of their brotherhood until he had drunk, as his baptism, four-and-twenty monstrous great cups of wine, while another brother beat twelve strokes on the plumpest belly of the company there present. each night thereafter they gathered together at the horn, and drank deep enough, as you may well guess. the most wonderful thing about the business was that in spite of this they worked all day like stout fellows, some at their crafts, some at their trades, others in the fields, contented one and all. but their good wives were not by any means contented, for as soon as vespers sounded all their husbands and sweethearts went off to the horn, without giving them so much as a single thought, and there stayed until curfew. and when these worthies went home they did not beat their wives, as some drinkers do, but lay down quietly beside them in bed, and immediately, without saying a word, fell fast asleep and began to sound such fanfares with their noses as master porker makes with his snout. then the poor women might thump them, cuff them, call their names as they would, to get them to sing their bedfellows a different sort of song, but all quite in vain: as well beat water to get fire out of it. they awoke only with cock-crow, but their temper in the morning was so rough and stormy that none of their womenfolk (that is to say, of such as were not asleep from weariness) dared say a word, either then or at the dinner-hour. all this was brought about by the evil power and influence of the deviling. on that account there was much sadness among the women, who said, all of them, that if such a state of things went on for long the race of the people of uccle must needs become extinct, which would be a great pity. vii. of the great parliament of the women of uccle. so it came about that the women decided between themselves to save the village from this fate, and to this end, while their menfolk were at drink with pieter gans, they met together at the house of a certain dame syske, who was big, fat, loud-speaking, had hair upon her chin, and had buried five husbands, or else seven, i dare not particularize the number for fear of untruth. there, as a rebuke to their drunken husbands, they quenched their thirst with clear water. when all were present, the younger ones assembled on this side and the older on that, the ugly ones among the older, dame syske opened the talk by saying that they must all go forthwith to the horn, and there give these drinkers such a drubbing that they would be stiff and sore for a week because of it. the old and ugly ones applauded this proposal with their hands, their feet, their mouths, and their noses. there was a fine noise, you may well believe. but the young and pretty ones kept silent as fishes, all save one, very pretty, very fresh and very neat, bearing the name of wantje, who said very modestly, and blushing somewhat, that it was of no use to belabour their worthy men in this fashion, but rather they must bring them back to good ways by gentleness and laughter. to this the dame syske replied: "little one, thou canst understand nothing of men, for thou art but a maid, or so i believe. for my part i know well enough how i managed my several husbands, and that was neither by gentleness nor by laughter, i promise thee. they are all dead, the worthy men (may god rest their souls!), but i remember them clearly, and know very well that at the least wrongdoing i made them dance the stick-dance on the field of obedience. none dared eat or drink, sneeze or yawn, unless i had first given him leave. little job syske, my last, did my cooking for me in my own house. he made a good cook, poor little man. but i had to give him many good beatings to bring him to that, and so it was with the others as well. therefore, little one, give up all these laughters and gentlenesses of thine, they are not worth much, i can tell thee. let us rather go forthwith and cut ourselves good staves of greenwood, easy enough to find now that it is spring-time, and going off to the horn let us make fall a good shower of blows on these unfaithful husbands." at this the old and ugly ones broke out afresh into monstrous howls and tumult, crying, "out upon them! out on the drunkards! they want a good drubbing, they want a good hanging!" viii. of the great wit which every woman has, and of the modest conversation which the maid wantje held with the worthies at the inn. on the morrow all these good women met together once again, and drank as before a great quantity of clear water; and afterwards went off, armed with sticks, to the place where they knew their men were to be found. before the door of the horn they stopped, and there a great council took place. the old ones wanted to go in with their sticks. "no," said wantje, with the young and pretty ones, "we would rather be beaten ourselves." "hark to these sillies!" cried the old ones, "these poor silly things. they have not an ounce of pride in their bodies, between the lot of them. be guided by us, gentle ewekins: we will avenge the dignity of women for you upon these wretched drunkards." "that you shall not," said the young ones, "as long as we are there." "that we shall," howled the old ones. but here a certain young and merry wife burst out laughing. "see ye not," said she, "whence comes to these grannies so great a rage and such a thirst for vengeance? 'tis simple bragging, to make us believe that their old croakers of husbands still care to sing them songs." at these words the old hags were thrown into such a state of fury that one or two died of rage there and then. others, having quite lost their heads, wanted to kill the maids and young wives who were laughing at them (and 'twas pretty music, all those fresh and merry voices), but the dame syske stopped them from that, saying that for the present they must take counsel together and not kill one another. continuing their discussion, they quarrelled, argued, chattered, jabbered in this and like fashion until curfew-time, when they separated without having made up their minds to anything, by reason of not having had time enough to talk it over. and there were spoken in this assembly of women more than 877,849,002 words, each one as full of good sense as a cellarful of old wine. pieter gans, who, as they said, had rabbit's ears, hearing in the street a certain hum of chattering voices, cried out: "alas, alas! what is this now? devils for a certainty, dear jesus!" "i will go and see, little coward," answered blaeskaek. but on opening the door he burst out laughing all at once, saying: "brothers, 'tis our wives." thereupon all the drinkers rose and went to the door; some with bottles in their hands, others brandishing flagons, others again clinking their mugs together like church bells. blaeskaek went out of the room, crossed the threshold of the outer door, and stepped into the street. "well, wives," said he, "what brings you here with all this greenwood?" at these words the young ones let fall their sticks to the ground, for they were ashamed to be caught with such weapons. but one old woman, brandishing hers in the air, answered for the others: "we come, drunkards, to tell you the tale of the stick, and give you a good thrashing." "woe, woe!" wept pieter gans, "that, i know, is my grandmother's voice." "so it is, scoundrel," said the old woman. meanwhile the brothers of the cheerful countenance, hearing all this, shook their sides merrily with laughing, and blaeskaek said: "then come in, come in, good wives, and let us see how you do your drubbing. are those good greenwood staves you have brought?" "yes," said they. "i am glad of that. for our part we have ready for you some good rods, well pickled in vinegar, which we use for whipping disobedient boys. 'twill doubtless give you all sweet pleasure to feel their caresses, and so recall the days of your youth. will you be pleased to try them? we will give you plenty." but at these scoffing words the old women took fright and ran off as fast as their legs would carry them, more particularly mother syske, making such terrible threats and noises as they went that they sounded to those jolly brothers like a flight of screeching crows passing down the deserted streets. the young ones stayed before the door of the inn, and 'twas affecting to see them so humbly standing, gentle and submissive, waiting for some kindly word from their husbands or sweethearts. "well," said blaeskaek, "do you please to come in?" "yes," said they all. "keep them out," said pieter gans into blaeskaek's ear, "keep them out, or they will go chattering to the priests about the deviling, and we shall be burnt, my good friend." "i am deaf," said blaeskaek; "come in, my dears." thereupon entered all these good women, and took up their places, some by their husbands, others by their sweethearts, and the maids in a line on a bench modestly. "women," said the drinkers, "you wish to join us?" "yes," said they. "and to drink also?" "yes," said they. "and have not come here to tell us temperance stories?" "nay," said they, "we have come without any other wish than to join our good husbands and sweethearts, and laugh with them, if that may be, with god's good will." "those are certainly fair words," said one old man, "but i suspect beneath them some woman's artifice or other." but no one paid him any heed, for by this time the women were seated all about the table, and you might hear this: "drink this, pretty sweet, 'tis a draught from heaven." "pour, neighbour, pour, pour out some more of this sweet drink." "who is a better man than i? i am the duke; i have good wine and good wife!" "ho, there! broach a fresh cask of wine; we must have the best there is to-day to pleasure these good dames." "courage! i have drunk too much; i am going to conquer the moon. but wait a little first. for the present i stay by this good wife of mine. kiss me, sweet." "this is not the place, before all these people," the women would answer. and with many caresses and pretty ways each said to her man: "come away home." they would indeed have been glad enough to go, all those good drinkers, but did not dare do it, being shamefaced in this matter in one another's presence. guessing as much, the women talked of going back. "there, there!" said the old man, "is not that what i said. they want to have us outside." "nay, my masters," said wantje very sweetly, "but i pray you remember that we are not accustomed to such strong drinks, nor even to their smell. therefore, master, if we feel the need to go out into the fresh air 'tis assuredly without wanting to anger or sadden you in any way whatsoever. may god keep you merry, brothers." and thereupon the good women went off, though the men tried to keep them back by force. ix. wherein it is seen that the learned thomas a klapperibus knew what makes a drinker fidget on his stool. left thus to their pots and tankards they turned to one another in wonder, saying: "ah, look ye at these dames! does it not always fall out in this wise; that they would have us do whatever they bid, and that with humility! submissive they seem, tyrants they are. but look ye, is it to male or female that belongs properly the right of command in all matters? to the male. we are the males. very well, then, let us drink! and we will at all times carry out our own wishes, which will presently be to sleep here in this inn, if we please." after this fashion they talked together for some time, feigning great anger, but being, in fact, eager enough to go and join their wives. by and by they fell silent, and so remained for a while, some yawning, others drumming tunes on the floor with their boots, others again, and these many, fidgeting on their seats, as if they were on sharp thorns. suddenly a young townsman, but lately married, got up and left the hall, saying that by the advice of a leech he was forbidden to drink more than six-and-twenty mugs of ale, which number he had already taken. after he had gone they all began to excuse themselves, one with a pain in his stomach, another with a headache, others with a melancholy feeling or with the phlegm, and made off to their homes, excepting only one or two among the older men. and when they were once outside they hurried with all speed to join their wives. thus was borne out what was written by the learned thomas a klapperibus in his great work de amore, c. vi, wherein it is said, that woman has more power than the devil. x. of the brigand called irontooth. but this thing never happened but once; for on the morrow when the drinkers were carousing at the horn the good women who came thither to entice them away a second time were driven off in a shameful manner. and as for the men, they continued to drink and to shout hilarious carols. several times the night-watchman of the town came in to warn them against making so much noise after the sun was set. ha, they listened to him with all respect, and seemed quite abashed and repentant at their fault; each one said his mea culpa; and in the meantime they gave the poor watchman so abundantly to drink that when he got outside he went off straight away to do his round leaning against some wall, and there snoring like a bass-viol. the others continued their drinking bouts and heavy slumbering, whereof the unhappy wives never ceased to complain. and so on, in this fashion, for a month and four days. now by great misfortune the good duke had lately been at war with my lord of flanders, and although peace had been made between them there remained afoot a band of lewd and ribald scoundrels, who went about ravishing all the countryside and robbing the townsfolk. this same band was commanded by a savage captain, to whom was given the name of irontooth, because on the top of his casque he wore a single spike, sharp and cruel, like the tooth of some devil or of one of the unicorns of hell, cut out into fantastic shape. in battle he would sometimes put down his head and use this tooth as a wild boar uses his tusks. in this manner were slain many brave soldiers of the duchy of brabant. on this same casque he carried also an evil bird whose wings beat against the steel, whereof it was said that it screeched in battle in a terrible fashion. it was irontooth's custom to come at night to the villages on which he was minded to carry out his forays, butchering without mercy the poor townsfolk in their sleep, and carrying off jewels, plate, women, and maids, but of these last only the young ones. as for the old women, he left them their lives, saying that it was not worth the while of killing them, for they would certainly die of fright by themselves. xi. in which it is seen how bravely the good wives of uccle did the duty of men. it came about that one night when only a few stars were showing, and the moon shining a little, there came to uccle a certain master andré bredael, running as hard as he could and quite out of breath. he brought this news: that being by chance behind a bush on the road to paris, he had seen a troop of men go past, whom he thought to be the irontooth's, for he had seen among them a spiked casque like that which the great brigand was wont to wear. while these men were halted by the roadside, and munching some food, he overheard them say that they were bound that night for uccle, where they hoped to get good sport and fair plunder, but they said also that they must leave the high road and travel by small lanes, so that their passage should not be discovered. master bredael thought it most likely that they would debouch behind the church. having learned so much he had hurried to uccle by the paris road, outdistancing the brigands by a good half-league, so that he might warn the townsmen to arms, and prepare a strong reception for these unwelcome travellers. and arriving there he hastened to the door of the prefecture and knocked loudly, so that the warning bell might be set ringing at once; but none came to open to him, for the good reason that the custodian, being one of the brothers of the cheerful countenance, was fast asleep, like all the other drinkers. andré bredael then sought other means of alarum, and shouted out so loudly: "fire! fire! brand! brand!" that all the women and old men, and children who were too young to drink, leapt out of bed and ran to their windows to see what was going forward. andré bredael made himself known to them and begged them to come down into the square, which they did with all dispatch. when they were all gathered round him he told them of the coming of irontooth, and bade them go and wake their husbands. at these words the older women began to shout as if mad: "welcome to irontooth, god's tooth in good deed, come to rip them all open! ha, drinkers! now we shall see you, as a punishment from heaven, either hanged short or burnt alive or drowned without respite; and 'tis no more than your sins deserve!" then, as if they had wings to their feet, they flew into their houses, and there master bredael, who stayed with the younger women in the square, heard the enraged old hags shouting, whining, weeping, vociferating, thumping on chests and frying-pans, in an attempt to awaken their good men. at the same time they cried in their ears: "scoundrels, wake up! sweet friends, come and protect us! drunkards, do your duty for once in your accursed lives! dear fellows, do you wish to find us dead by morning? bear us no malice for our talk of thrashing you. we were foolish just then, and too hasty; ye were wise. but save us in this pass!" and so on, mixing together smooth and bitter words, like milk and vinegar. but none of the men stirred. "what is this?" said master bredael. "alas, master," said the young women, "'tis as you see; they are as good as dead the night through, and so has it been a while past. if the angel of god himself were to come he would scarce be able to rouse them. ah, must it be that after having left us lonely so long these wicked husbands will now leave us to die!" "do not weep," said andré bredael, "this is no time for that. do you love these husbands of yours?" "yes," said they. "and your sons?" "yes," said they. "and your little daughters, so sweet and winsome?" "yes," said they. "and you are ready to defend them as best you can?" "yes," said they. "well, then," said bredael, "go and fetch your men's bows and come back here with them as quickly as you can. we will think of some way to defend ourselves." soon enough the women were back again, armed with bows which they had taken from their husbands, brothers, or sweethearts. these bows of uccle were of great renown throughout the land, for they were as strong as steel, and winged their arrows with very great speed. with them came certain boys of twelve years old, or not much more, and one or two brave old men, but the women sent them back again indoors, saying that they must stay behind and look to the village. the good womenfolk then collected in a bunch in the square, talking with great ardour and courage, but not too much bragging withal. every one was clad in a white gown, jacket, or shift, as is the customary night apparel of women. but on this occasion it was by the special favour of god that they were so clad, as you shall see by and by. wantje, who was one of their number, standing very bold and calm, said suddenly that they must pray. thereupon they all knelt devoutly, and the maid spoke thus: "madam mary the virgin, who art queen of heaven as madam the duchess is queen of this country, give an ear to these poor wives and maids, humbly kneeling before you, who by reason of the drunkenness of their husbands and brothers must needs take on themselves men's duty and arm themselves to fight. if you will but make a small prayer to my lord jesus to give us his aid we shall be sure enough of victory. and we will give you as thanksgiving a fair crown of gold, with rubies, turquoises and diamonds in its rim, a fair golden chain, a fair robe of brocade spangled over with silver, and the same to my lord your son. therefore pray for us, madam mary." and all the other good maids and wives said after wantje: "pray for us, madam mary." suddenly, as they were rising from their knees, they saw a beautiful bright star shoot from heaven to earth, not far from where they were. this was, no doubt, an angel from the good god, who came down from paradise in this guise, to stand beside them and help them the more surely. seeing the sign the good women took heart of grace, and wantje spoke further, saying: "madam the virgin hearkens to us, 'tis certain. let us now proceed to the gate of the village, beside the church of our lord, who dwells therein"--here all crossed themselves--"to await with confidence the coming of the irontooth and his men. and when we see them near at hand let every woman draw her bow, without speaking, nor moving in any way. madam the virgin will guide the arrows." "well spoken, brave maid," said master bredael. "come, i see in those eyes of thine, so bright in the darkness, the breath of god, which is a flame, alight in thy maid's heart. we must do as she says, good wives." "yes, yes," said they. this woman's army took up its place in line in the alley behind the church. after a while of waiting, wherein was much perplexity and anxiety, they heard the sound of footfalls and voices, growing louder as they listened, as of men on the march. and wantje said: "madam mary, they are coming; have pity on us!" then a large body of men appeared before them, carrying lanterns. and they heard a monstrous, husky, devil's voice crying: "out, friends, out upon them! loot for the irontooth!" but here suddenly all these good women let fly their arrows with great precision, for though they themselves remained in darkness they could see the brigands, all lit up by their lanterns, as clearly as in daylight. two hundred of the men fell at the first volley, some with arrows in their skulls, others in their necks, and several with them in their bellies. the irontooth himself was among the first that the good women heard fall with a great thud, from an arrow let fly by wantje, which pierced him through the eyeball neatly. some were not wounded at all, but, having troubled conscience, thought when they saw all these white figures that 'twas the souls of those whom they had made pass from life into death, come back by god's grace to avenge themselves upon them. so they fell on their faces in the dust, as if dead from fear, crying out in a most piteous manner: "mercy, lord god! send back to hell all these ghosts, we pray you." but when they saw the good wives bearing down on them fear put strength into their legs, and they made off as fast as they would carry them. xii. wherein pieter gans is nearer the stake than the wine-barrel. when the enemy had been so far discomfited the women came back into the square and stood before the prefecture, not feeling any glory, but rather sadness at having had to shed christian blood in this manner. ah, they returned thanks with a full heart to our lady the virgin and our lord jesus, who had given them the victory. nor did they forget in their thanksgiving the good angel who had come to their assistance in the form of a bright star. and they sang fair hymns and litanies very sweetly. meanwhile all the cocks in the countryside awoke one by one and heralded with their clarions the new day about to dawn. and at that call, all the drinkers were roused from sleep, and ran to their doors to find out whence came this sweet music. and my lord the sun laughed in the sky. and the worthy men came out into the square, and some of them, when they saw their wives in the assembly, were all for beating them because they had left their beds; but andré bredael interposed and told them the whole story. thereupon they were all amazed, ashamed, and repentant, seeing how well these brave petticoats had striven on their behalf. pieter gans, blaeskaek, and father claessens, dean of uccle, a most saintly man, also came out into the square. thereupon, seeing all this crowd assembled, master bredael spoke thus: "friends," said he, "you hear how that 'tis through the valour of your wives and daughters alone that you are not by this time sniffing the air of heaven. therefore 'tis seemly that here and now you should promise, and take oath to it, not to drink any more except by their wish." "that is all very well, master bredael," said one of the townsmen, "but 'tis not plain drinking that puts us all into so deep a sleep. i speak of these things with knowledge, i who have drunk wine freely all my life, and hope still so to do with relish to the end of my days. there is something else to it, devilry and evil spells, or so i think. come hither, pieter gans, come hither and talk to us somewhat, and if thou know anything, bring light to this dark matter." "alas, alas!" said pieter gans, his head wagging and his teeth chattering (for he was afraid, poor fellow), "alas, alas! i know nothing, my good friends." "nay," said the man, "but thou dost know something of it, for i see thy head shaking and thy teeth chattering." but at this point the dean confronted gans: "wicked christian," said he, "i can see well enough thou hast had commerce with the devil, to the great despite of all these good men. confess thy sin with all humility, and we will accord thee such grace as may be, but if thou deny it, thou shalt be punished with hot oil." "ah," said pieter gans in tears, "'tis as i said; i shall be burnt, dear god! blaeskaek, where art thou, my good friend? give me thy help. alas, alas!" but blaeskaek had gone off in a hurry from fear of the holy fathers. "ah," said pieter gans, "see how the traitor deserts me when danger threatens!" "speak," said the very reverend father. "yes, master dean," said pieter gans, weeping and wailing, "i will tell you the whole story, without keeping back anything.... master!" he cried when he had come to the end of his recital, "if you will not punish me too heavily, master, i will give all my poor savings as a perpetual gift to the church. i am a true christian, that i vow, and no heretic. moreover, i wish not to die until i have had sufficient time to do long and full penance. but have me not boiled in oil before i have had that time, i beg of you." "as to that," answered the dean, "we shall see. now take us to the place where this devil is to be seen." by that time they were close to the church, and the priest went in to get therefrom some holy water before they started. then all the men, women, and children of the village took their way to the horn. there the dean demanded to see what had been the cause of those wicked spells which had been cast over so many worthy men, and pieter gans, with all humility, showed him the deviling, still smiling and holding his staff of vine-branches in his hand. and all the women, after looking at him for some time, said that he was very comely for a devil. the priest first crossed himself, then, dipping his fingers in the holy water, anointed therewith the brow, breast, and belly of the statue, which thereupon, by the grace of god, crumbled into dust, and a sorrowful voice was heard saying: "oi moi, ô phôs, tethnêka!" and these words of the devil were explained by the priest to signify, in the greek tongue: "woe is me! light! i die!" xiii. of the great wonder and astonishment of my lord the duke when he heard of the valour of the women of uccle. in the meantime the village sent to the duke two trusty men, with a message to that high prince informing him in due order all that had occurred. these men met him already on his way to uccle, for he had learnt by his runners the irontooth's design, and knowing full well where he would find him was coming against him at all speed with a strong force of horsemen. as soon as the messengers saw who it was coming along the road they went down on their knees, but the good duke would have none of this, and made them rise and walk at his stirrup. before they had gone far they reached the scene of the brigands' discomfiture. at the sight of all those heaped-up bodies the duke halted, greatly astonished and no less pleased. "and who," quoth he, "has slain all these scoundrels in this wise?" "our womenfolk," said one of the messengers. "what is this thou'rt telling me?" said the duke with a frown. "before god, my lord," said the man, "i will tell you the whole story." and so he did. "well," said the duke when he had done, "who would have thought it of these good wives? i will reward them well for it." so saying he caused the casque of the irontooth to be taken up and carried away. this casque was to be seen for many years in the armoury of my lord charles, who had it guarded with the utmost care. xiv. in what manner was instituted the order of the women-archers of uccle and of the fine reward which my lord gave to the brave maid wantje. on entering uccle the good duke saw coming towards him a large body of people, and in their midst a man crying out in a most piteous voice: "master! master priest! let me not be boiled!" to which the answer was: "we shall see." "whence comes all this noise?" said the duke. but as soon as pieter gans saw who it was he ran towards him and threw his arms round his horse's legs. "my lord," he cried, "my lord duke, let me not be boiled!" "and why," said the duke, "should they boil one of my good men of uccle?" but the very reverend father claessens, stepping forward, told him the whole story with great indignation, while pieter gans continued to blubber alongside in a most melancholy fashion. and thereon followed such confusion, with the one weeping and groaning, the other denouncing and syllogizing, and each so vehemently, that the good duke could not tell which to listen to. suddenly wantje came forward out of the press, and, like pieter gans, cried: "mercy and pity!" "my lord," said the maid, "this man has sinned greatly against god, but only from simpleness of mind and a natural cowardice. the devil frightened him; he submitted to the devil. pardon him, my lord, for our sakes." "maid," said the duke, "that was well spoken, and 'tis to thee i will hearken." but the very reverend father: "my lord," said he, "forgets to think of god." "father," said the duke, "i am not forgetful of that duty. nevertheless i think he takes little pleasure in watching christian fat smoke or a good man's flesh boil, but likes rather to see men gentle and kind, and not giving their fellows penance to do. and on this day when our lady the virgin has deigned to perform a miracle for our sakes i will not sadden her mother's heart by the death of a christian. therefore none of the accused, neither this pieter gans nor any other there may be, shall this time go to the stake." on hearing this pieter gans burst out laughing like a madman, and began to dance and sing, crying out the while: "praise to my lord! i am not to be boiled. brabant to the good duke!" and all the townsfolk called out after him: "praise to my lord!" then the duke bade them be silent, and smiling: "well, dames," said he, "who have this night done man's work so valiantly, come hither that i may give you a man's reward. first of all, to the bravest one among you i give this great chain of gold. which is she?" the good women pushed wantje forward before the duke. "ah," said he, "'tis thee, sweet pleader. wilt kiss me, though i be old?" "yes, my lord," said the maid. and so she did, notwithstanding that she was a little shamefaced over it. and the good duke, having hung the chain round her neck, spoke further in this wise: "as for you all, good dames, who have this night so gallantly carried arms, i institute among you a most honourable order, under the protection of madam mary the virgin, and i direct that there shall be set up in this place a staff of a good length, and that each sunday you shall come together here and draw the bow in archery, in memory of the time when with those bows you saved the lives of your husbands and children. and there shall be a fair crown of laurel and a fair purseful of golden peters, bright and new, to be awarded annually to the best archer of the year, and brought to her on a cushion by all the others together. and this purse will dower her if she be a maid, or, if she be a wife, will stand her in good stead against a time of famine." in this manner was instituted the order of women-archers of uccle, who still draw the bow like men every sunday, under the protection of our lady the virgin. the three sisters i. of the three noble ladies and their great beauty. in the year of our lord jesus christ 690, lived three maidens, descended, by male issue, from the noble line of the great emperor octavian. their names were blanche, claire, and candide. though they had dedicated the flower of their maidenhead to god, it is not to be supposed that this was for lack of lovers. for, on every day that passed, a crowd of people used to collect for nothing else than to see them go by on their way to church, and onlookers would say of them: "see what gentle eyes, see what white hands!" more than one, besides, with his mouth watering to look at them, would say sorrowfully: "must it be that such sweet maids as these should dedicate themselves to god, who has eleven thousand or more in his paradise already." "but none so fair," answered an old wheezing merchant behind them, who was drinking in the fragrance of their dresses. and going off on his way, if the old man saw any young fellow loafing by the roadside, or lying on his belly in the grass to warm his back in the sun, he would give him a kick in the ribs, saying: "well now, dost thou care nothing to see the finest flowers of beauty that were ever blowing?" ii. how a prince of araby was taken with love for the youngest sister, and what came of it. not a few young men tried to win them in marriage, but failing in this endeavour, turned moody and pined visibly away. among them was a certain prince of araby, who had himself baptized with great ceremony. and this for the sake of the youngest sister solely. but, failing to attain his end, either by pleading or by force, set himself one morning before her door, and there let himself fall on his sword. the maid, hearing this fair lord cry out, came down in haste and had him carried in and laid on her own bed; whereat (for he was not quite dead) he found great solace. and when she bent over him to bathe and dress his wound, he roused what force he had left in him, kissed her on her red mouth, sighed like a man delivered from torment, and so gave up his soul happily. but the maid was not at all pleased at this kiss, for she considered it a dishonour to her divine husband jesus. nevertheless she wept for the fair lord, a little. iii. wherein it is seen how satan persecutes those ladies who seek to escape from the world. there were oftentimes a great crowd of suitors before the dwelling of the three ladies, some of them sighing laments, others prancing up and down on fine horses, others without uttering a word, but only looking up at the windows all the day long. and oftentimes these men would fight together and kill one another, from jealousy. at this the ladies were saddened exceedingly. "ah," said the two elder to their sister, "pray for us, white blanche, white of soul and white of body, pray for us, little one. jesus listens readily to the prayers of such maids as thou art." "my sisters," answered she, "i am less worthy than you, but i will pray, if you so wish it." "yes," said they. then the three sisters knelt down, and the youngest prayed in this manner: "kind jesus, we have sinned against you assuredly, else you would not have let our beauty so touch these wicked men. yes, we have indeed sinned, but, weaklings that we are, despite ourselves, lord. ah, grant us pardon for our great sorrow. you would have us for your own, and so indeed we have kept ourselves: our youth and beauty, mirth and sadness, vows and prayers, souls and bodies, thoughts and deeds, everything. in the morning, at noon, and at vesper-time, at all hours and all moments, do we not have you in our minds? when your bright sun rises, o beloved, and no less when your bright stars shine in your heaven, they can see us at prayer, and offering to you, not gold, frankincense, or myrrh, but our humble loves and our poor hearts. that is not enough, we know well. dear one, teach us to do more." pausing here they sighed sorrowfully, all three. "kind jesus," went on the youngest sister, "we know well enough the desire of these men. they think themselves brave and handsome, and hope on this account to capture our love, but they are neither handsome, nor brave, nor good, as you are, jesus. and yours we are and shall be always, and theirs never. will you please to love us also a little, for you alone are our comfort and joy in this sad world, jesus? we will not be unfaithful to you in anything. ah, let us rather die quickly, for we hunger and thirst for you. if you will, let these evil men continue to pursue us with their loves, 'twill be but delight to suffer it for your sake. nevertheless, the mortal husband leaves not his wife in danger, nor the betrothed his bride. are you not better than they, and will you not keep us also from the snares of the enemy? if it be not pleasing to you, do nothing, but then it may be that one day some one will steal from us our virginity, which is yours only. ah, dear beloved, rather let us pass our lives old, ugly, leprous, and then descend into purgatory, among devils, flame, and brimstone, there to wait until you deem us pure enough at length to take us into your paradise, where we shall be allowed to see you and love you for ever. have pity upon us. amen." and having spoken thus, the poor child wept, and her sisters with her, saying: "pity, jesus, pity." iv. of the voice of the divine bridegroom, and of the horseman in silvern armour. suddenly they heard a low voice saying: "take heart." "hark," they said, "the husband deigns to speak to his brides." and presently the room was filled with a perfume more delicate than that of a censer burning finest frankincense. then the voice spake further: "to-morrow," it said, "when dawn breaks, go out from the town. mount your palfreys, and, riding without halt, follow the road without heeding whither it leads. i will guide you." "we will obey you," they said, "for you have made us the happiest of the daughters of men." and rising from their knees, they kissed one another joyfully. while the voice was speaking to them, there had come into the square a beautiful horseman in silvern armour, with a golden helm on his head, and, flying above that like a bird, a crest more brilliant than a flame. the horse whereon he rode was of pure white. none of those there had seen him coming, and he was as if risen from the ground among the crowd of lovers, who, seized with fear, dared not look him in the face. "rascals," quoth he, "take these horses away out of the square. do you not know that the noise of their hooves troubles these three ladies in their prayers?" and therewith he rode away towards the east. "ah," said the lovers to one another, "saw you that silvern armour and that flaming crest? 'twas an angel of god assuredly, come from paradise for the sake of these three ladies." the more insistent among them muttered: "he did not forbid us to stand on foot before the door, and in that wise we may yet remain with impunity." v. how, by the command of god, the three ladies rode to adventure. on the morrow, therefore, before daylight, the suitors returned once again in great numbers, but first left their horses behind them in their stables. soon after daybreak they saw the three ladies ride out from their courtyard, in obedience to the command which god had given them, each one mounted upon her palfrey. supposing that they were but going out into the neighbouring meadows to take the clean air, they followed behind, one and all, singing merry carols in their honour. for so long as they were in the streets of the town the palfreys moved slowly, but once out in the open country they began galloping. the lovers tried still to follow them, but at last were forced to drop off, and fell one by one along the wayside. when they had covered some miles the palfreys stood still; and the three ladies, seeing that they had come free of their pursuers, resolved to give honour to god for his aid, and to this end to build him a fair church. where? they did not know. but the thing was already decided in paradise, as you shall see. for as soon as they were once again on their horses, the animals, guided by god's holy spirit, set off at a high trot. and leapt rivers, threaded forests, passed through towns, whereof the gates opened of themselves to let them by, and closed again after, bounded over walls and like obstacles. and startled every one they met, all amazed to see go by, quick as the wind, these three white horses and these three fair ladies. and travelled in this way for a thousand leagues, or rather more. vi. of the diamond hammers, and foundations torn up from the ground. at haeckendover, in the duchy of brabant, the palfreys stood still once again, and neighed. and would not go one step forward, nor back. for this was where god had chosen to have his church. but the ladies, supposing that they had stopped there because they were tired, went on as far as hoy-bout on foot, and there determined to start building. therefore they sent for the most skilful workers in stone, and master-builders also, in so great number that at the end of one day the foundations were two hands' breadth high in the lowest part. and seeing this good beginning the ladies rejoiced greatly, and supposed their work agreeable to god. but on the morrow, alas, found all the stones torn up out of the ground. thinking that by chance some traitor heretic had been buried in that place, who at night shook down the stones of their church with the trembling of his accursed bones, they removed to steenen-berg with their workmen, and there started afresh in the same manner as at hoy-bout. but on the morrow morning found the walls once again out of the ground. for the lord jesus was minded to be worshipped more particularly at haeckendover. and sent, therefore, his angels by night, with hammers of diamond from the workshops of paradise. and bade them tear down the work of the three ladies. therefore the sisters, greatly perplexed and wondering, went down on their knees, praying god that he would tell them where he wished to have his church. vii. of the youngest sister and the beautiful angel. and suddenly they saw a young man, of a beauty more than earthly, clad in a robe of the colour of the setting sun. kindly he looked at them. knowing him for god's angel, the three ladies fell on their faces before him. but the youngest, bolder than the others, as is the way with children, dared to steal a look at the fair ambassador, and, seeing him so comely, took heart and smiled. the angel took her by the hand, saying to her and to her sisters: "come and follow me." this they did. and thence they came to the spot where the church now stands, and the angel said to them: "this is the place." "thank you, my lord," said the youngest joyously. viii. how the three ladies saw a green island, with sweet flowers and birds thereon. at that time it was thirteen days past the feast of the kings; snow had fallen heavily and set hard in frost after, by reason of a north wind which was blowing. and the three ladies saw before them, among the snow, as it were a green island. and this island was girt about with a cord of purple silk. and upon the island the air was fresh as in spring, and roses were blowing, with violets and jessamine, whose smell is like balm. but outside was naught but storm, north wind, and terrible cold. towards the middle, where now stands the grand altar, was a holm-oak, covered with blossom as if it had been a persian jessamine. in the branches, warblers, finches and nightingales sang to their hearts' content the sweetest songs of paradise. for these were angels, who had put on feathered guise, carolling in this fashion in god's honour. one fair nightingale, the sweetest singer of them all, held in his right claw a roll of parchment, whereon was written in letters of gold: "this is the place chosen by god and shown by him to the three maidens for the building of a church to the glory of our lord and saviour jesus christ." great was the joy of the ladies at that sight, and the youngest said to the angel: "we see certainly that god loves us somewhat; what must we do now, my lord angel?" "thou must build the church here, little one," answered the messenger, "and choose for this work twelve of the most skilled workmen, neither more nor less; god himself will be the thirteenth." and having said so much he returned to high heaven. ix. of the church of our lord at haeckendover, and of the strange mason who worked there. then all three went off in haste to choose from among the others the twelve good workmen who should set up the foundations of the church where they had seen the cord of purple silk. the work went on so well that it was a pleasure to see the stones mounting up, straight and quickly. but the miracle was this, that during the hours of labour the masons were always thirteen in number, but at dinner and at paytime twelve only. for the lord jesus was pleased to work with the others, but neither ate nor drank with them; he who in paradise had such fine broth and such sweet fruits, and wine from the fountain of saphir, which is a fountain giving forth without intermission wine of a richer yellow than liquid gold itself. nor did he suffer for want of money; for that is an evil reserved to us needy, piteous, and ill-faring mortals. the building advanced so well that soon the bell was hung in the tower as a sign that the church was finished. then the three maids entered in together; and, falling on her knees, the youngest said: "by whom, divine husband and beloved jesus, shall we dedicate this church built for your service?" to which the lord jesus replied: "it is i myself who will consecrate and dedicate this church; let none come after me to consecrate it anew." x. of the two bishops, and the withered hands. by and by two venerable bishops passed through haeckendover, and seeing the new church were minded to give it their blessing. they knew nothing of the words of jesus to the three ladies, or they would not have thought of such temerity. but they were punished terribly none the less. for as one of them was about to bless the water for this purpose he became suddenly blind. and the other, who was holding the holy water brush, when he lifted his arms for the blessing, found them suddenly withered and stiffened, so that he could no longer move them. and perceiving that they had sinned in some way the two bishops were filled with repentance and prayed to the lord jesus to pardon them. and they were straightway pardoned, seeing that they had sinned in ignorance. and thereafter they came oftentimes most devoutly to haeckendover. sir halewyn i. of the two castles. sir halewyn lifted up his voice in a song. and whatever maid heard that song must needs go to him straight away. and now to all good flemings will i tell the tale of this halewyn and his song, and of the brave maid magtelt. there were two proud castles in the province of flanders. in one dwelt sir roel de heurne, with the lady gonde, his good wife; toon the silent, his son; magtelt, his fair daughter, and a host of pages, grooms, varlets, men-at-arms, and all the other members of the household, among whom an especial favourite was anne-mie, a girl of gentle blood, maid to the lady magtelt. of everything that was made by his peasants, sir roel took naught but what was the best. and the peasants said of him that it was a good master who took only as much as he needed, when he might have left them with nothing. in the other castle lived sir halewyn the miserable, with his father, brother, mother, and sister, and a large following of rascals and brigands. and these were an ill-favoured crew, i can tell you, past masters of robbery, pillage, and murder, such as it is not good to meet at too close quarters. ii. of dirk, called the crow. this family were issue by direct line of dirk, the first of the halewyns, to whom was given the name of the crow, because he was as greedy of booty as a crow is of carrion. and also because he was clad all in black, and his men with him. this dirk, who lived in the time of the great wars, was like a thunderbolt in battle, where, with his only weapon, a heavy club, furnished with a beak at one side, he broke javelins, splintered lances, and tore away mail as if it had been cloth; and no one could well resist his onslaught. and in this manner he so frightened his enemies that when they saw dirk and his black soldiers bearing down upon them, shouting, yelling, without fear of any one, and in great number, they gave themselves up for dead before ever battle was joined. when victory was won and the more important booty divided (whereof dirk always secured the lion's share and never came off badly), the other barons and their knights would leave the rest of the field to him and his followers, and would go off, saying: "the pieces are for the crow." no other man-at-arms would dare to stay behind then, or he would have been quickly taken and slain without waiting. and thereafter dirk's men would begin to play the crow in earnest; cutting off fingers to get the rings on them, even of those not yet dead, who cried out to them for succour; chopping off heads and arms so that they might pull away clothes the more easily. and they even fought amongst themselves, and sometimes killed one another, over the bodies of the dead, for the sake of neck-pieces, straps of hide, or more paltry stuff still. and stayed sometimes on the battlefield over this business three days and three nights. when all the dead were stark naked they piled up their gains into carts which they brought for this purpose. and with these they returned to dirk's castle, there to hold high revel and have good cheer. on the way they fought the peasants, taking whatever women and girls were at all comely, and did with them what they pleased. in this way they passed their lives fighting, pillaging, robbing the helpless, and caring nothing at all for either god or devil. dirk the crow became exceedingly powerful and got very much worship, both by reason of his prowess in battle and from the fact that my lord the count gave him after his victories the demesne of halewyn, with powers of seigneury, both of the higher and the lower order. and he had a fine escutcheon made for himself, wherein was a crow sable on a field or, with this device: the pieces are for the crow. iii. of sir halewyn and how he carried himself in his youth. but to this strong crow were born children of a quite other kind. for they were all, strangely enough, men of the quill and writing-desk, caring nothing for the fine arts of war, and despising all arms. these great clerks lost a good half of their heritage. for each year some stronger neighbour would rob them of a piece of it. and they begot puny and miserable children, with pale faces, who passed their time, as clerks are wont, lurking in corners, sitting huddled on stools, and whining chants and litanies in a melancholy fashion. thus came to an end the good men of the line. siewert halewyn, who was the wretch of whom i am to tell you this tale, was as ugly, puny, woebegone, and sour-faced as the others, or even worse than they. and like them he was always lurking and hiding in corners, and shirking company, hated the sound of laughter, sweated ill-humour, and, moreover, was never seen to lift his head skywards like an honest man, but was all the while looking down at his boots, wept without reason, grumbled without cause, and never had any satisfaction in anything. for the rest he was a coward and cruel, delighting during his childhood in teasing, frightening and hurting puppies and kittens, sparrows, thrushes, finches, nightingales, and all small beasts. and even when he was older, he hardly dared to attack so large a thing as a wolf, though he were armed with his great sword. but as soon as the beast was brought down he would rain blows on it with high valour. so he went on until he was old enough to marry. iv. how sir halewyn wished to take himself a wife, and what the ladies and gentlewomen said to it. then, since he was the oldest of the family, he was sent off to the court of the count, there to find himself a wife. but every one laughed at him, on account of his marvellous ugliness, more particularly the ladies and gentlewomen, who made fun of him among themselves, saying: "look at this fine knight! what is he doing here? he has come to marry us, i suppose.--who would have him, for four castles, as many manors, ten thousand peasants and half the gold in the province? none.--and that is a pity, for between them they would get fine children, if they were to be like their father!--ho, what fine hair he has, the devil must have limned it with an old nail; what a fine nose, 'tis like a withered plum, and what fair blue eyes, so marvellously ringed round with red.--see, he is going to cry! that will be pretty music." and sir halewyn, hearing the ladies talk after this fashion, could not find a word to answer them with, for between anger, shame, and sorrow his tongue was fast stuck to the roof of his mouth. nevertheless he would take a lance at every tournament, and every time would be shamefully overcome, and the ladies, seeing him fall, would applaud loudly, crying out: "worship to the ill-favoured one! the old crow has lost his beak." thus they compared him, for his shame, with dirk, the old stock of the halewyns, who had been so mighty in his day. and, acclaimed in this fashion every time he jousted, sir halewyn would go back from the field in sorrow to his pavilion. v. how it came about that sir halewyn, after a certain tournament, called upon the devil for aid. at the third tournament wherein he was beaten there were on the field his father, mother, brother, and sister. and his father said: "well, look at my fine son, siewert the soft, siewert the overthrown, siewert the faint-heart, coming back from jousting with his tail between his legs, like a dog thrashed with a great stick." and his mother said: "i suppose for certain that my lord the count has put a gold chain round thy neck, and acclaimed thee publicly, for having so valiantly in this jousting jousted on thy back, as in the old days my lord of beaufort was wont to make thee do. holy god! that was a fine tumble." and his sister said: "welcome, my fair brother, what news do you bring? thou wert the victor for certain, as i see from thy triumphant mien. but where is the wreath of the ladies?" and his brother said: "where is your lordly bearing, my lord siewert halewyn the elder, descendant of the crow with the great beak? for such a crow vanquishes without much trouble eagles, goshawks, shrikes, gerfalcons, sparrow-hawks. are you not thirsty, my brother, with the thirst of a baron, of a victor, i will not say of a villein? we have here some fine frog's wine, which will cool the fires of victory in your belly." "ha," answered the sire, grinding his teeth, "if god gave me strength, i would make thee sing a different song sir brother." and saying this, he pulled out his sword to do so, but the younger, parrying his thrust, cried out: "bravo, uncrowlike crow! bravo, capon! raise up our house, i beg of thee, siewert the victorious!" "ha," said the sire, "and why does this chatterer not go and joust as well as i? but he would not dare, being that kind of coward who looks on at others, folding his arms and making fun of those who strive." then he dismounted from his horse, went off and hid himself in his chamber, cried out to the four walls in a rage, prayed to the devil to give him strength and beauty, and promised him, on the oath of a knight, that he would give him his soul in exchange. so he called on him all through the night, crying out, weeping, bewailing his lot, minded at times even to kill himself. but the devil did not come, being busy elsewhere. vi. of the rovings and wanderings of sir halewyn. every day after this, whether it were fair or foul, light sky or dark, storm or gentle breeze, rain, snow, or hail, sir halewyn wandered alone through the fields and woods. and children, seeing him, ran away in fear. "ah," said he, "i must be very ugly!" and he went on with his wandering. but if on his way he met some common man who had strength and beauty, he would bear down on him and oftentimes kill him with his sword. and every one grew to shun him, and to pray to god that he would soon remove their lord from this world. and every night, sir halewyn called on the devil. but the devil would not come. "ah," said the sire sorrowfully, "if thou wilt only give me strength and beauty in this life, i will give thee my soul in the other. 'tis a good bargain." but the devil never came. and he, restless, always in anguish and melancholy, was soon like an old man to look at, and was given the name throughout the country of the ill-favoured lord. and his heart was swollen with hatred and anger. and he cursed god. vii. of the prince of the stones and of the song. one day in the season of plum-picking, having roved over the whole countryside, and even as far as lille, on the way back to his castle he passed through a wood. ambling along he saw among the undergrowth, alongside an oak, a stone which was of great length and broad in proportion. and he said: "that will make me a good seat, comfortable enough to rest on for a little while." and sitting down on the stone he once again prayed to the devil to let him have health and beauty. by and by, although it was still daylight, and the small birds, warblers and finches, sang in the woods joyously, and there was a bright sun and a soft wind, sir halewyn went off to sleep, for he was very tired. having slept until it was night, he was suddenly awakened by a strange sound. and he saw, by the light of the high moon and the clear stars, as it were a little animal, with a coat like a mossy stone, who was scratching up the earth beneath the rock, now and again thrusting his head into the hole he had made, as a dog does hunting moles. sir halewyn, thinking it was some wild thing, hit at it with his sword. but the sword was broken at its touch, and a little mannikin of stone leapt up on to his shoulders, and smote his cheeks sharply with his hard hands, and said, wheezing and laughing: "seek, siewert halewyn; seek song and sickle, sickle and song; seek, seek, ill-favoured one!" and so saying he hopped about like a flea on the back of the miserable, who bent forward as he was bid, and with a piece of his sword dug in the hole. and the stony cheek of the little mannikin was alongside his own, and his two eyes lit up the hole better than lanterns would have done. and biting halewyn's flesh with his sharp teeth, striking him with his little fists, and with his nails pinching and pulling him, and laughing harshly, the little mannikin said: "i am the prince of the stones, i have fine treasures; seek, seek, miserable!" and saying this, he pommelled him beyond endurance. "he wants," he screamed, mocking him, "siewert halewyn wants strength and beauty, beauty and strength; seek then, miserable." and he pulled out his hair in handfuls, and tore his dress with his nails until he was all in rags, and kept saying, with great bursts of laughter: "strength and beauty, beauty and strength; seek, seek, miserable!" and he hung from his ears with his two hands, and kicked his stone feet in his face, notwithstanding that the sire cried out with pain. and the little mannikin said: "to get strength and beauty, seek, halewyn, a song and a sickle, seek, sir miserable!" and the miserable went on scratching out the earth with his piece of sword. suddenly the earth fell away under the stone, leaving a great hole open, and halewyn, by the light of the mannikin's eyes, saw a sepulchre, and within the sepulchre a man lying, who was of marvellous beauty and had none of the appearance of death. this man was clad all in white, and in his hands held a sickle, whereof both handle and blade were of gold. "take the sickle," quoth the little mannikin, thumping his head with his fists. sir halewyn did as he was bid, and straightway the man in the tomb became dust, and from the dust came a white flame, tall and spreading, and from the white flame a wonderfully sweet song. and suddenly all about the wood was spread a perfume of cinnamon, frankincense, and sweet marjoram. "sing," said the mannikin, and the miserable repeated the song. while he was singing his harsh voice was changed to a voice sweeter than an angel's, and he saw coming out of the depths of the wood a virgin of heavenly beauty and wholly naked; and she came and stood before him. "ah," she said, weeping, "master of the golden sickle. i come, for i must obey; do not make me suffer too much in the taking of my heart, master of the golden sickle." then the virgin went away into the depths of the wood; and the mannikin, bursting out into laughter, threw sir halewyn down on to the ground, and said: "hast song and sickle; so shalt thou have strength and beauty; i am the prince of the stones; farewell, cousin." and halewyn, picking himself up, saw no more of either the mannikin or the naked maid; and studying well the golden sickle, and pondering in his mind what could be the meaning of the man in the tomb and the naked virgin, and inquiring within himself in perplexity what use he could make of the sickle and the sweet song, he saw suddenly on the blade a fair inscription, written in letters of fire. but he could not read the writing, for he was ignorant of all the arts; and, weeping with rage, he threw himself into the bushes, crying out: "help me, prince of the stones. leave me not to die of despair." thereupon the mannikin reappeared, leapt upon his shoulder, and, giving him a stout rap on the nose, read on one side of the blade of the sickle this inscription which follows: song calls, sickle reaps. in the heart of a maid shalt thou find: strength, beauty, honour, riches, from the hands of a dead virgin. and upon the other side of the blade the mannikin read further: whoso thou art shalt do this thing, writing read and song sing: seek well, hark and go; no man shall lay thee low. song calls, sickle reaps. and having read this the mannikin went away once more. suddenly the miserable heard a sad voice saying: "wilt thou seek strength and beauty in death, blood, and tears?" "yes," said he. "ambitious heart, heart of stone," answered the voice. then he heard nothing more. and he gazed at the sickle with its flaming letters until such time as my lord chanticleer called his hens awake. viii. what halewyn did to the little girl cutting faggots. the miserable was overjoyed at what had come about, and inquired within himself whether it would be in the heart of a virgin child or of a marriageable virgin that he would find what was promised him, and so satisfy his great desire for worship and power. pondering this he went a little way through the wood and stationed himself near to some cottages where he knew there were maids of divers ages, and there waited until morning. soon after the sun was up, a little girl came out, nine years old, or rather less, and began collecting and cutting up faggots. going up to her, he sang the song and showed her the sickle. whereupon she cried out in fear, and ran away as fast as she could. but halewyn, having quickly overtaken her, dragged her off by force to his castle. going in, he met on the bridge his lady mother, who said to him: "where goest thou, miserable, with this child?" he answered: "to bring honour to our house." and his lady mother let him pass, thinking him mad. he went into his room, opened the side of the girl beneath a breast just budding, cut out the heart with the sickle, and drank the blood. but he got no more strength from it than he had before. and weeping bitter tears, he cried: "the sickle has played me false." and he threw down into the moat both the heart and the body. and the lady halewyn seeing this poor heart and body dropping into the water, ordered that they should be taken out and brought to her. seeing the body rent open under the breast, and the heart taken out, she became afraid lest siewert her first-born was following dark practices. and she put the girl's heart back in her breast, and gave her a very fine and christian burial, and had a fair great cross made on her winding-sheet, and afterwards she was put in the ground and a fair mass said for the quiet of her soul. ix. of the heart of a maid and of the great strength which came to sir halewyn. sorely troubled, and falling on his knees, halewyn said: "alas, is the spell then impotent? i sang, and she would not come to my singing! what would you have me do now, lord prince of the stones? if it is that i must wait until nightfall, that i will do. then, without doubt, having no sun to hinder your powers, you will give me strength and beauty, and all prowess, and you will send me the virgin i need." and he went at night to wander in the woods round about the cottages, and there, singing his song, and looking out to see if any were coming. he saw by the light of the bright moon the daughter of claes, a poor mad man, nicknamed the dog-beater, because he used to thump and pommel grievously whomever he met, saying that these accursed dogs had robbed him of his coat, and must give it him back again. this girl took care of claes very well, and would not marry, though she was a beautiful maid, saying: "since he is simple, i cannot leave him to look to himself." and every one, seeing her so stout-hearted, gave her, one some of his cheese, another some beans, another some flour, and so they lived together without wanting for food. the miserable stood still at the edge of the wood and sang. and the maid walked straight towards the singing and fell on her knees before him. he went home to his castle, and she followed him, and entered in with him, saying no word. on the stair he met his brother, just returned from boar-hunting, who said, in mocking wise: "ah, is the miserable about to get us a bastard?" and to the girl: "well, mistress, thy heart must be fast set on my ugly brother that thou must needs follow him in this wise, without a word spoken." but halewyn, in a rage, hit out at his brother's face with his sword. then, passing him by, went up into his own room. and there, having shut fast the door, from fear of his brother, he stripped the girl quite naked, as he had seen the virgin in his vision. and the girl said that she was cold. quickly he opened her breast with the golden blade, under the left pap. and as the maid gave the death-cry, the heart came out of itself on the blade. and the miserable saw before his eyes the little mannikin coming out of the stones of the wall, who said to him, grinning: "heart on heart gives strength and beauty. halewyn shall hang the maid in the gallows-field. and the body shall hang until the hour of god." then he went back into the wall. halewyn put the heart on his breast, and felt it beating firmly and taking root in his skin. and suddenly his bent back was straightened; and his arm found such strength that he broke easily in two a heavy oaken bench; and looking at himself in a mirror-glass he saw an image so beautiful that he could scarce tell it for his own. and he felt in his veins the fire of youth burning. going down into the great hall he found there at supper his father, mother, brother, and sister. none of them would have known him but for his voice, which was unchanged. and his mother rose and peered into his face to see him better. and he said to her: "woman, i am thine own son, siewert halewyn, the invincible." but his brother, whom he had but lately smitten in the face, ran towards him hotly, saying: "cursed be the invincible!" and struck him with his knife. but the blade snapped off like glass against the body of the miserable; whereupon the younger brother seized him in his arms, but the miserable tore him off and threw him to one side as if he had been a caterpillar. then he rushed at him with his head down, like a battering-ram, but as soon as his head touched the miserable it was cut open, and the blood ran down over his face. and his father and mother, his sister and the wounded brother, threw themselves on their knees and asked his forgiveness, begging him, since he had become so powerful, to bring them riches and honour. "that i will," said he. x. how the miserable robbed a lombard goldsmith, and of the pleasant speech of the ladies and gentlewomen. on the morrow, armed only with the sickle, for he despised other arms on account of the strength which the spell gave him, halewyn took the body of the maid to the gallows-field and there hanged it on the tree. then he rode off to the city of ghent. and the ladies, gentlewomen and maidens of the town, seeing him pass by on his black horse, said among themselves: "who is this fair horseman?" "'tis," he cried right proudly, "siewert halewyn, who was called the ill-favoured one." "nay, nay," said the bolder among them, "you are making fun of us, my lord, or else you have been changed by a fairy." "yes," said he, "and, moreover, i had fleshly knowledge of her; and so shall have of you, if i please." at these words the ladies and gentlewomen were not at all put out. and he went to the shop of a lombard goldsmith in that town, who had at one time and another lent him six-and-twenty florins. but the goldsmith did not know him for himself. he told him that he was sir halewyn. "ah," said the goldsmith, "then i pray, my lord, that you will repay me my six-and-twenty florins." but halewyn, laughing: "take me," he said, "to the room where thou keepest thy gold." "my lord," said the goldsmith, "that i will not, for all that i hold you in high esteem." "dog," said he, "if thou dost not obey me i will strike thee dead instantly." "ha!" said the goldsmith, "do not come blustering here, my lord, for i am neither serf nor peasant, but a free burgess of this town. and if you are so minded as to lay your hands on me, i shall know how to get redress, i promise you." then halewyn struck him, and the burgess called for help. hearing this cry, apprentices to the number of six came down into the shop, and, seeing halewyn, ran to seize him. but he beat them off likewise and bade them show him where the gold was kept. which they did, saying one to another: "this is the devil." and the goldsmith, weeping: "my lord," said he, "do not take it all." "i shall take what i will," said halewyn; and he filled his money-bag. and in this way he took from the goldsmith more than seven hundred golden bezants. then, seeing the poor man lamenting his lot, he struck him two or three hard blows, telling him not to whine so loud, and that before the month was out he would take from him double the amount. xi. of the arrogant arms of sir halewyn. and the miserable became the richest, most powerful, and most feared baron in the whole province. and blasphemously he compared himself to god. and considering that the old arms of dirk, and his device, were too mean for his new magnificence: he sent to bruges for painters in heraldry to fashion them afresh. these painters put the old crow away in one quarter, and on a field argent and sable blazoned a heart gules and a sickle or, with this device: none can stand against me. moreover, he had this same blazon fashioned into a great standard which was flown from his castle keep. and also had it cut in stone over the gate. and on his shield, which he caused to be made larger so that the arrogant device might be seen to better advantage. and on his arms, his clothes, and wherever it could be put, there he had it as well. xii. how sir halewyn jousted with a knight of england. it so happened that at about this time my lord of flanders let call a tournament. and sent out to all his lords and barons to come to ghent for that purpose. halewyn went thither and set up his shield among the others. but the barons and lords, seeing the arrogant device and the great size of the shield, were greatly put to offence thereat. and all of them jousted with him, but each was overthrown in turn. among them was present an english knight of much prowess, who rode out to the middle of the tourney-field and stood straight and proud before sir halewyn. "well," quoth he, "my lord the invincible, it displeases me to see thee planted there so arrogantly and unhorsing us all in this fashion. wilt thou fight with me?" "yes," said sir halewyn. "if i overcome thee, thou shalt be my servant and i shall take thee with me into cornwall." "yes," said sir halewyn. "and cause thee to grease my horses' hooves, and empty the dung from the stable; and find out whether thou art invincible at such work also." "yes," said sir halewyn. "and if thou art not invincible, the invincible stick shall thrash thee invincibly." "yes," said sir halewyn. "but if thou overcome me, this shall be thy guerdon: "five-and-twenty bezants which are in the house of thy lord, the noble count of flanders; all the accoutrement of my horse, which is of fine mail; his fair saddle of pear-wood, covered with leather, and saddle-bows richly figured with ten horsemen lustily fighting and with our lord driving out the devil from one possessed; furthermore my helm of fine wrought steel, and on it a crest of silver, gilt over, with spread wings, which may very well, notwithstanding thy device, stand against thy bleeding heart, thy gaping sickle, and thy miserable crow. well, my lord the invincible, dost think thou shalt win invincibly the five-and-twenty bezants, the helm of my head, and the trappings of my horse?" "yes," said sir halewyn. then, after my lord himself had given the signal, they ran together with a great clatter. and the english knight was overthrown like the rest. then all the ladies acclaimed and applauded the miserable, crying out: "worship to siewert halewyn the noble, siewert halewyn the fleming, siewert halewyn the invincible." and on his way back to the house of my lord, there to feast with him, he was by these ladies kissed, fondled, and made much of without stint. and, putting on the gear of the english knight, he went off to the towns of bruges, lille, and ghent, thieving and ravishing everywhere. and came back from each expedition with much booty. and felt the heart all the while pouring live strength into his breast and beating against his skin. then he went back to his own castle with the five-and-twenty bezants and the arms of the knight of england. when he sounded the horn there came to him his mother, who, seeing him so gilt over, was overcome with joy, and cried: "he brings us riches, as he promised." "yes," said sir halewyn. and she fell at his feet and kissed them. as also did the younger brother, saying: "sir brother thou hast lifted us up from poverty, i will willingly serve thee." "so shouldst thou, indeed," said halewyn. then, going into the hall: "i would sup," he said, "thou, woman, fetch me meat, and thou, fellow, drink." and on the morrow, and every day thereafter, he made to serve him at table, as if they had been his private servants, his father, mother, brother, and sister, turn by turn. xiii. of the heart dried up and of the dame halewyn. but one morning while he was at meat in his castle, when his father and sister were gone to bruges to buy corn-coloured cloth-of-scarlet for their clothes, and he was being served, with all humility, by his mother and brother, he became suddenly quite cold, for the heart had ceased to beat. putting his hand to his breast, he touched dried-up skin. then he felt his face go back as it was before, his shoulders shrink down, his back hump up, and all his body lessen in stature. looking at his mother and brother in turn, he saw them laughing and saying to each other: "see, here is our master back in his old ugly skin, and with his old ugly face." "ha, my lord," said his brother, coming boldly up to him and speaking insolently, "will you not take some of this clauwaert to hearten yourself? you have no longer, it seems, your former strength." "wilt try it?" said the miserable, and struck him with his fist, but did him no more hurt than if he had been a fly. seeing this the younger brother grew bolder, and seating himself close to halewyn on the seat: "my lord," said he, "you have had pudding enough, i think, 'tis my turn to eat." and he took the pudding from off his platter. "my lord son," said his mother, "now you shall give to me, who am old, some of this old wine you have kept for yourself." and she took the cup out of his hand. "my lord brother," said the younger son, "methinks you have too much of this roast of lamb with sweet chestnuts; i will take it, if you please." and he put the roast of lamb before his own place. "my lord son," said his mother, "you do not much like, it seems, this fair cheese and barley tart, give it to me, i pray you." and the miserable, dumbfounded, gave it to her. "my lord brother," said the younger son, "you have been sitting there long enough like an emperor, will you be pleased to stir your limbs now and serve us?" and the miserable, getting up, served them as he was bidden. "my lord son," said his mother, "i see you now submissive to our orders, will you be pleased to ask my pardon for having so long kept me standing like a private servant, fetching you food and drink, though i am your mother?" and the miserable fell at her feet. "my lord brother," said the younger son, "wilt thou be pleased to fall at my feet likewise, and kiss them, for that thou hast made me do the work of a serf?" "that i will not," said the miserable. "thou wilt not?" "i will not," said the miserable, and stepped back a pace. "come hither," said his brother. "i will not," said the miserable. then the younger ran at him, and, bearing him to the ground without difficulty, began thumping and pommelling him, and striking him in the face with his golden spurs, saying: "avenge thyself, siewert halewyn the invincible. none can stand against thee, save i. thou hast long treated us as serfs in thy house, now i will treat thee as a cheese and crush thee underfoot. why dost thou not now caper as a kid, or fly away as a bird, siewert the enchanted?" and, going into a frenzy of rage, he drew his knife, saying: "i will cut thee off thy head unless thou cry mercy." "i will not," said the miserable. but his mother, hearing these words, took quickly from the fire a handful of embers, and notwithstanding their heat, threw them into the eyes and mouth of the younger brother, saying: "thou shalt not kill my first-born, wicked son." and while the younger brother was howling by reason of the pain from the embers, which blinded him, his mother took the knife from him, and while he was twisting this way and that, swinging up his arms to strike whomever he could, she threw him down, shut him up in the room, and went out dragging her first-born after her. then, although she was feeble with age, she carried halewyn up into the tower on her back, as a shepherd carries a lamb (for he had quite lost his senses), and there tended him and bathed his face and breast, which were torn and bleeding, and there at nightfall left him and went away. xiv. of the great weakness of sir halewyn and of the days and nights which he spent in the forest. the miserable, alone and somewhat comforted, rose to his feet, and was right glad to feel the sickle still at his belt; opened the door, listened to make sure that he could hear nothing, and that his brother was not there. and when the night was fully dark, went down the stair slowly, sitting-wise. for he was so weakened by the blows and wounds he had received that he could not hold himself upright by any means; and in this fashion he went on until he reached the bridge, and, finding that still down, crossed over it. and very wearily he made his way to the forest. but he could not, on account of his weakness, go so far as the cottages, which were a good two leagues distant to the northward. so, lying down among the leaves, he sang. but no maid came, for the song could not be heard from so far away. and so passed the first day. when night came again, cold rain began to fall, which sent him into a fever. but notwithstanding this he would not go back to his castle, for fear of his brother. shivering, and with his teeth a-chatter, he dragged himself northward through the brake, and saw in a clearing a fair pretty maid, rosy-cheeked, fresh, slender, and neat, and he sang his song. but the girl did not come to him. and so passed the second day. that night the rain fell anew, and he could not move, so stiff was he from the cold, and he sang, but no maid came. at dawn the rain continued, and while he was lying there among the leaves a wolf came and sniffed at him, thinking him dead, but on seeing it draw near he cried out in a terrible fashion, and the wolf took fright and went off. then he grew hungry, but could find himself nothing to eat. at vespers he sang anew, but no maid came. and so passed the third day. towards midnight the sky cleared, and the wind grew warmer. but the miserable, though he was suffering greatly from hunger, thirst, and weariness, dared not sleep. on the morning of the fourth day he saw a girl coming towards him who seemed to be a burgess's daughter. the girl would have run away on seeing him, but he cried out loudly: "help me! i am worn out with hunger and sickness." then she drew near to him and said: "i also am hungry." "art thou," he said, "a maid? " "ah," said she, "i have had to flee from bruges, because the priests would have burnt me alive, on account of a brown mole which i have on my neck, of the size of a pea, coming, they say, from my having had fleshly commerce with the devil. but i have never seen the devil, and do not know what he is like." he, without listening to her, asked again if she were a virgin, and, as the girl said nothing, he sang his song. but she did not move from where she stood, only saying: "you have a very sweet and strong voice for one so wasted with sickness and hunger." then he said to her: "i am the lord siewert halewyn. go to my castle and ask to be taken to my lady mother, and without speaking to any one else, whosoever he be, tell her that her son is hard put to it in the forest with hunger, fever, and weariness, and will die before long if none bring him help." the girl went off as he bid her, but coming out of the wood she saw in the gallows-field the body of the maid hanging, and ran away in a fright. passing into the territory of sir roel de heurne she craved food and drink at the cottage of one of his peasants. and there she told how she had found sir halewyn dying of hunger. but she was told in reply that the said lord was crueller and more wicked than the devil himself, and should be left to be eaten by the wolves and other beasts of the forest. and the miserable waited, lying in the leaves in great anguish. and so passed the fourth day. and at dawn of the fifth, having seen no more of the girl, he supposed that she had been caught by the priests and taken back to bruges to be burnt. quite disheartened, and chilled with the cold, and saying that he would soon die, he cursed the prince of the stones. nevertheless, at vespers he sang once more. and he was then by the side of a forest way. and he saw coming through the trees a fair maid, who fell on her knees before him. and he did to her as he had done to the others. then rose full of fresh strength, vigour, and beauty, and with the heart resting against his own went off to the gallows-field, carrying the body, and there hanged it by that of the first virgin. xv. how the miserable, having hanged fifteen virgins in the gallows-field, held wicked revels and cruel orgies. sir halewyn became most powerful and greatly feared, and killed up to fifteen virgins, whom he hanged in the gallows-field. and he led a riotous life, eating, drinking, and carousing continually. all those ladies who had made fun of him in the days of his impotence and ugliness were brought to his castle. and having had his will of them he turned them out of doors like bitches, so wreaking upon them his evil vengeance. and from lille, ghent, and bruges came the most beautiful courtesans, with their badge on their arms, and they ministered to his pleasure and to that of his friends, among whom the more evil were diederich pater-noster, so called because he was a great frequenter of churches; nellin the wolf, who in battle attacked only the fallen, as wolves do; and baudouin sans ears, who in his court of justice always cried: "death, death," without waiting to hear any defence whatever. in company with the fair courtesans these same lords held revels and orgies without end, and took from their poor peasants all they had, corn, cheese, jewels, cocks, oxen, calves, and swine. then, having stuffed themselves as full as they could hold, threw to their dogs choice viands and rich cakes. gave to be broken and pounded up for their hawks and falcons, the meat of fowls, cockerels, and doves; had the hooves of their horses bathed in wine. oftentimes until midnight, or even until cock-crow, there would be beating of drums, trilling of pipes, squeaking of viols, skirling of bagpipes, and winding of horns, for their entertainment. xvi. how the burgesses of the good town of ghent gave protection to the virgins of the domain of halewyn. meanwhile in the cottages of the peasant folk were tears, hunger, and great misery. and when the fifteenth maid had been taken in the domain of halewyn, the mothers prayed to god that he would make them barren, or else that they might bear men-children only. and the fathers complained and said to one another sadly: "is it not a pitiful thing to see these sweet and gentle flowers of youth so brought to death and dishonour!" and some among them said: "let us go by night to the good town of ghent, taking with us all our virgin daughters, and tell the whole tale to the burgesses, begging their blessed protection for them, and leaving them there in the town if we are so permitted. so they will escape death at the hands of our master." every one who heard this plan thought it a good one; and all the peasants with daughters who were virgins took them off to ghent, and there told the story to the commune, and the good men gave them protection. then with lighter hearts the peasants returned to the domain of halewyn. xvii. of what sir halewyn did on the borders of his domain. not long afterwards a hard winter set in, with bitter cold and furious storm. and the heart of the fifteenth virgin no longer beat strong against sir halewyn's breast. and he sang, but none came. wherefore he was disappointed and angry. but calling to mind that there were, in the castle of sir roel de heurne, two girls supposed by common report to be virgins, and that this castle was no more than the fifth part of a league from the borders of his land, and that therefore the two maids would be able to hear and come to the call of his song, he went each night and stationed himself on the farthest border of his demesne, and there sang towards the said castle, notwithstanding the bitter cold, and the snow beginning to fall abundantly. xviii. of the damosels magtelt and anne-mie, and of schimmel the dapple-gray. while the miserable was roaming the woods, sir roel de heurne and the lady gonde, his wife, richly clad, and wrapt round with deer-skins, which give particular warmth to the body, were sitting snugly on their coffers before their good fire of oaken logs, chatting together as old folk will. but it was the lady gonde who spoke most, being the woman. and she said: "my good man, do you hear the storm raging furiously in the forest?" "yes," answered sir roel. and his lady said further: "god has been kind to give us, against this great cold, such a fine castle so strongly built, such good clothes, and such a bright fire." "yes," answered the sire. "but above all," said she, "he has shown us his divine grace by giving us such good and brave children." "true," answered the sire. "for," said she, "nowhere could you find a young man more valiant, courteous, gentle, and fitter to uphold our name than toon, our son." "yes," said the sire, "he has saved my life in battle." "but," said his lady, "he has this fault, that he is so scant of words that we scarce know the tone of his voice. he is well called the silent." "there is better worth to a man," said the sire, "in a good sword than in a long tongue." "here i see you, my lord," said the lady, "pent up with your reflections, for sadness and gravity are the lot of old age, but i know well a certain maid who would smooth out your forehead and set you laughing." "'tis possible," said the sire. "yes," said she, "it is certainly possible, for when magtelt our daughter comes into this room, i shall see my lord and husband turn happy at once." at these words sir roel nodded his head and smiled a little. "yes, yes," said his lady, "for when magtelt laughs, then laughs my old roel; when she sings, then my old roel grows thoughtful and nods his head happily, and if she passes by, he follows with smiling eyes each step of his little daughter." "true, gonde," said the sire. "yes, yes," said she, "for who is the well-being and joy of this house? 'tis not i, who am old, and losing my teeth one by one; nor you either, my fellow in antiquity; nor the silent either; nor anne-mie the private servant, who, though she is very sweet and healthy in her person, is something too quiet in her ways, and laughs only when she is set laughing. but she who makes our old age happy, she who is the nightingale in the house, she who is always coming and going, passing and repassing, flying hither and thither, singing and singing again, as happy as a peal of bells at christmastide: 'tis our good daughter." "so it is," said the sire. "ah," said his lady further, "it is a happy thing for us to have such a child, since both of us have already cold in our feet at all seasons. for without her we should pass our time in sadness, and from our old feet the cold would creep up to our hearts, and so we should be taken to our graves more quickly." "yes, wife," said the sire. "ah," said she, "another damosel would have wished for love-suitors, and to go to the court of my lord to get a husband. but our little maid gives no thought to that, for hereabout she loves no one but ourselves, and her who goes everywhere with her, and is as a sister to her, anne-mie the private servant; but not without teasing her a little in order to make her laugh." "true," said the sire. "yes, yes," said his lady, "and every one loves her, admires her, and respects her, pages, grooms, varlets, men-at-arms, private servants, serfs, and peasants, so joyous and merry is she, so brave and gentle is her bearing. there is no one, even down to schimmel, the great war-horse, who does not follow her like a dog. ah! when he sees her coming he whinnies joyously; and she alone must bring him his oats and corn; from none other will he take a grain. she treats him like a man, and often gives him a great draught of clauwaert, which he drinks up with relish. she makes herself understood to him by words, but she must never be cross with him, or he makes as if to weep, and looks at her with so sad a manner that she cannot withstand it and then calls him to her, saying: 'beautiful schimmel, brave schimmel,' and other soft words; hearing which the good dapple-gray gets up and comes close to her to have more compliments. he suffers no one on his back but she, and when he is carrying her he is as proud as my lord of flanders at the head of his good barons and knights. so she has her sovereignty over every one, by joyousness, goodness, and fair speaking." "yes," said the sire. "ah," said his lady, "may the very good god watch over our little one, and may our old ears hear this fledgeling nightingale singing always." "amen," said the sire. xix. how magtelt sang to sir roel the lied of the lion, and the song of the four witches. while sir roel and the lady gonde were talking together, the snow had fallen in great quantity, and had quite covered magtelt and anne-mie, who were coming back from having taken an eagle-stone to the wife of josse, for her to bind to her left thigh and so get ease in her lying-in. and the girls came into the great hall, where sir roel was sitting with his good wife. magtelt, drawing close to her father, knelt to him in salutation. and sir roel, having raised her up, kissed her on the brow. but anne-mie stayed quietly in a corner, as became a private servant. and it was a good sight to see these two maids wholly covered with snow. "jesus-maria," said the lady gonde, "see these two sillies, what have they been doing to get themselves clothed in snow in this fashion? to the fire quickly, children; draw to the fire and dry yourselves." "silence, wife," said sir roel, "you make youth faint-heart. in my young days i went through cold, snow, hail, thunder, and tempest without a thought. and so do i still, when there is need to, and i will have magtelt do the same. thanks be to god! 'tis not from a fire of logs that a daughter of ours must get warmth, but from the natural fire which burns in the bodies of the children of old roel." but magtelt, seeing him about to grow angry, went and knelt at his feet. "lord father," said she, "we are not cold at all, for we have been leaping, dancing and frolicking so heartily, thumping and drubbing each other, that we turned winter into spring; furthermore we sang some fine songs, which i beg you will give me leave to sing over again to you." "so i will, little one," said sir roel. so magtelt sang him the lied, of roeland de heurne the lion, who came back from the holy land, and brought thence a great sword; and also the song of the four witches, wherein you may hear mewling of cats, bleating of goats, and the noise which they make with their tails in rainy weather. and sir roel forgot his anger. when magtelt had done singing he caused supper to be served and the cross lit up, which threw over them a bright light from the four lamps burning at the end of each arm. and he made his daughter sit at his side. anne-mie came likewise to sit at table, beside the lady gonde, who said: "young company warms old folk." and there were served to them that evening fine white bread, beef salted and smoked in the chimney among the sweet smoke of fir-cones, ghent sausage, which was invented, they say, by boudwin the glutton, bastard of flanders, and old clauwaert. supper finished, and a prayer spoken, magtelt and anne-mie went off to bed, in the same room, for magtelt loved anne-mie like a sister and would have her by her side at all times. xx. of the sixteenth virgin hanged. magtelt, with laughter, singing, and frolic, soon fell asleep. but anne-mie, being somewhat cold, could not close her eyes. and the miserable came and stationed himself on the border of his land. thence his voice rang out clear, soft, and melodious. and anne-mie heard it, and, forgetting that she was but lightly clad, rose up and went out of the castle by the postern. when she came into the open the snow smote harshly on her face, her breast, and her shoulders. and she tried to shield herself against this bitter cold and evil snow, but could not, for she had lain down to sleep nearly naked. going towards the song she passed barefoot across the moat, whereof the water was hard frozen. and trying to mount the farther bank, which was high and slippery, she fell; and cut a great wound in her knee. having picked herself up she entered the forest, wounding her bare feet on the stones, and her numbed body on the branches of trees. but she went her way without heeding. when she drew near to the miserable she fell on her knees before him. and he did to her as he had done to the others. and anne-mie was the sixteenth virgin hanged in the gallows-field. xxi. how magtelt sought anne-mie. on the morrow magtelt, being, as was customary, the first awake, said her prayers to my lord jesus and to madam saint magtelt, her blessed patron. having besought them earnestly for sir roel, the lady gonde, the silent, and all the household, most particularly for anne-mie, she looked at the maid's bed, and seeing its curtains half drawn she supposed that her companion was still asleep; and so, putting on her fine clothes, she kept saying as she moved up and down the room, or looked at herself in the mirror-glass: "ho, anne-mie, wake up, wake up, anne-mie! who sleeps late comes last to grass. the sparrows are awake and the hens also, and already their eggs are laid. wake up, anne-mie, schimmel is neighing in the stable, and the sun is shining bright on the snow; my lord father is scolding the servants, and my lady mother is interceding for them. canst not smell the savoury odour of beans and good beef broiled with spices? i can smell it well enough, and it makes me hungry; wake up, anne-mie." but the girl could not possess herself in patience any longer, and threw the curtains wide open. finding no anne-mie: "there!" she said, "the rogue, she has gone down without me; and without me, no doubt, is at this same moment eating those good beans and beef." and going down the stairs at a run magtelt entered the great hall, where, seeing sir roel her father, she knelt to him and asked his blessing, and then likewise to the lady gonde. but her mother said to her: "where is anne-mie?" "i cannot tell," said magtelt, "she is having some fun with us, i suppose, hidden in some corner." "that," said sir roel, "is not her way, for if any one here makes fun of others 'tis not she, but thou, little one." "my lord father," said magtelt, "you make me anxious by talking so." "well," said sir roel, "go and seek anne-mie; as for us, mother, let us eat; our old stomachs cannot wait for food as well as these young ones." "ah," said the lady gonde, "i have no mind to eat; go, magtelt, and find me anne-mie." but sir roel helped himself to a great platterful of beans and good beef, and, falling to it, said that nothing was so easily put out, troubled, made anxious, as a woman, and this for nothing at all. nevertheless he was himself a little uneasy, and from time to time looked up at the door, saying that the rascal of a girl would show herself suddenly from somewhere. but magtelt, after searching the whole castle over, came back and said: "i can find anne-mie nowhere." xxii. how magtelt wept bitterly, and of the fine dress which she had. and magtelt had great sorrow in her heart, and wept, and made lament, crying: "anne-mie, where art thou? would i could see thee again!" and falling on her knees before sir roel, she said: "my lord father, i pray you to send our men-at-arms in goodly number in search for anne-mie." "so i will," said he. the men-at-arms went out, but dared not pass on to the lands of halewyn from fear of the spell. and on their return they said: "we can hear nothing of anne-mie." and magtelt went up and stretched herself on her bed, and prayed to the good god to send her back her sweet comrade. on the second day she went and sat before the glazed window, and without intermission looked out all day at the countryside and the falling snow, and watched to see if anne-mie were coming. but anne-mie could not come. and on the third day the lids of her eyes bled for weeping. and on that day the snow ceased falling, the sky became clear, the sun shone therein, and the earth was hard frozen. and every day in the same place went and sat the sorrowing magtelt, watching the countryside, thinking of anne-mie and saying nothing. sir roel, seeing her so low-hearted, sent to bruges for some blue cloth-of-scarlet, for her to make herself a dress, and fine cyprian gold for the border, and fine gold buttons of rich workmanship. magtelt worked away at making this dress, but took no pleasure at all at the thought of all this fine apparel. and so passed away the week, and each day magtelt worked at her dress, saying nothing and singing never, but weeping oftentimes. on the fifth day, when the dress was finished, well trimmed with the cyprian gold and embellished with the rich buttons, the lady gonde bade magtelt don it, and then showed her her magnificence in a great mirror-glass; but magtelt had no heart to be glad at seeing herself so beautiful, for she was thinking of anne-mie. and the lady gonde, seeing how sad she was and silent, wept also, saying: "since our magtelt stopped singing i have felt more bitterly the chill of winter and old age." and sir roel made no murmur, but became sullen and pensive, and drank clauwaert all day. and at times, turning angry, he bade magtelt sing and be cheerful. and the maid sang merry lieds to the old man, who then turned joyous again, and gonde as well. and they spent all their time before the fire, nodding their heads. and they said: "the nightingale is come back again to the house, and her music makes the fires of spring sunshine stir in our bones." and magtelt, having done singing, would go off to hide herself in a corner and weep for anne-mie. xxiii. of toon the silent. on the eighth day, the silent went wolf-hunting. following a certain beast he rode into the domain of halewyn. and at vespers the lady gonde, leaving the great hall to go to the kitchen for the ordering of supper, on opening the door saw toon before her. he seemed loth to come in, and hung his head as if with shame. the lady gonde, going to him, said: "my son, why do you not come into the hall to bid good evening to the lord your father?" the silent, without answering, went into the hall, and muttering short and sullen words by way of salutation, went to sit in the darkest corner. and the lady gonde said to sir roel: "our son is angry at something, i think, since he goes off into a dark corner far away from us, against his habit." sir roel said to the silent: "son, come hither to the light that we may see thy face." he obeyed, and sir roel, the lady gonde, and the sorrowing magtelt saw that he was bleeding from the head and from the neck, and cast down his eyes, not daring to look them in the face. the lady gonde cried out with fright on seeing the blood, and magtelt came to him, and sir roel said: "who has given my son this shamed countenance, this downcast heart, and these wounds in his body?" the silent answered: "siewert halewyn." "why," said sir roel, "was my son so presumptuous as to attack the invincible?" the silent answered: "anne-mie hanged in the gallows-field of siewert halewyn." "woe!" cried sir roel, "our poor maid hanged! shame and sorrow upon us!" "lord god," said gonde, "you smite us hard indeed." and she wept. but magtelt could neither weep nor speak from the bitterness of the grief which laid hold upon her. and she looked at her brother fixedly, and his sunken face blenched, and from the wounds against his eyes dropped tears of blood, and his body was shaken with spasms. and the silent sank into a seat, weeping dully like a wounded lion. "ha," quoth sir roel, hiding his face, "this is the first man of the house of heurne that has found need to sit weeping. shame upon us, and without redress, for there is a spell woven." and the silent stuffed his fingers into the wound in his neck, pressing out the blood; but he felt nothing of the pain. "toon," said the lady gonde, "do not dirty your wound with your fingers in this wise; you will poison it, my son." but the silent did not seem to hear. "toon," said the lady gonde, "do not do it; i, your mother, order you. let me wash away this blood and dress with ointment these ugly sores." while she hurried to prepare the ointment and to warm the water in a washing-basin, toon did not cease his groaning and weeping. and he tore out the hair from his beard in a rage. and sir roel, watching him, said: "when a man weeps 'tis blood and shame, shame without redress. halewyn has a spell. ah, presumptuous one, must thou then go to his castle to brave the invincible?" "woe, my lord," said the lady gonde, "be not so bitter angry with the silent, for he showed fine courage in wishing to avenge anne-mie on the miserable." "yes," said sir roel, "fine courage that brings shame to our house." "tell," said she, "tell, toon, the tale to thy father, to show him that thou art a worthy son to him none the less." "i wish it," said sir roel. "my lord father," said the silent, groaning, and speaking in short breaths, "anne-mie hanging, siewert halewyn near to the gallows. he was laughing. i ran at him, cutting at his belly with my sword in the fashion of a cross to break the spell. invincible! he laughed, saying: 'i will take magtelt.' i struck him with a knife; the blade turned. he laughed. he said: 'i do not care for punishment, be off.' i did not go. i struck him with sword and knife together; in vain. he laughed. he said again: 'be off.' i could not. then he struck me with the flat of his sword in the neck and breast, and with the hilt in the back, like a serf. he laughed. i lost sense from the blows. beaten like a serf, my lord father, i could do naught against him." sir roel, having heard toon speak, was less angered, understanding that he had not been presumptuous, thinking also of his great pain and of his bitter groaning and his grievous shame. with the ointment ready and the water warm, the lady gonde set to work to dress the wounds of her son, particularly that on his neck, which was a deep one. but magtelt wept never a tear, and soon went off to her bed, not without a blessing from sir roel her father, and her lady mother. the three stayed a long while together before the fire, father, mother, and son, without a word spoken, for the silent, moaning all the while, could not bear his defeat, and the lady gonde wept and prayed; and sir roel, sad and ashamed, hid his face. xxiv. how the damosel magtelt made a good resolution. magtelt, before she lay down on her bed, prayed, but not aloud. and her face was hard set with anger. and having undressed she lay down in her bed, tugging at her breast with her finger-nails from time to time, as if she were fighting for breath. and her breathing was as if she were in agony. for she was bitter sad and out of heart. but she did not weep. and she heard the high wind, forerunner of snow, lifting over the forest, and roaring like a stream in spate after heavy rain. and it tossed against the window glass dried leaves and branches, which beat on the pane like dead men's finger-nails. and it howled and whistled sadly in the chimney. and the sorrowing maid saw in her mind's eye anne-mie hanging in the gallows-field and her poor body pecked by the crows, and she thought of the stain on her brave brother's honour, and of the fifteen poor virgins outraged by the miserable. but she did not weep. for in her breast was a dumb pain, harsh anguish, and a bitter thirst for vengeance. and she asked very humbly of our lady if it were a good thing to let the miserable any longer go killing the maidens of the land of flanders. and at cock-crow she rose from her bed, and her eyes were bright, and proud was her countenance, and her head held high, and she said: "i will go to halewyn." and throwing herself on her knees she prayed to the very strong god to give her courage and strength for the revenge of anne-mie, toon the silent, and the fifteen virgins. xxv. of the sword of the lion. at sun-up she went to sir roel, who was still in bed, on account of the cold. seeing her come in and fall on her knees before him, he said: "what wilt thou, little one?" "my lord father," she said, "may i go to halewyn?" at this he became afraid, and saw well enough that magtelt, unable to rid her heart of the thought of anne-mie, was minded to avenge her. and he said with love and anger: "no, my daughter, no, not thou; who goes there will not come again!" but seeing her go out of the room he never supposed that she would fail in her obedience. and magtelt went thence to the lady gonde, who was praying in the chapel for the repose of anne-mie's soul; and she pulled at her mother's dress, to show that she was there. when the lady gonde turned her head, magtelt fell on her knees before her: "mother," said she, "may i go to halewyn?" but her lady mother: "oh no, child, no, not thou; who goes there will not come again!" and so saying, she opened her arms and let fall the golden ball wherewith she warmed her hands, so that the embers spread this way and that on the floor. then she fell to moaning, weeping, trembling, and chattering with her teeth, and embraced the girl tightly as if she would never let her go. but she never supposed that she could fail in her obedience. and magtelt went thence to toon, who, despite his wounds, was already out of bed, and seated on his coffer, warming himself before a new-lit fire. "brother," she said, "may i go to halewyn?" saying this she held herself straight before him. the silent lifted his head and looked at her severely, waiting for her to speak further. "brother," she said, "siewert halewyn has killed this sweet maid whom i loved; and has done the same to fifteen other pitiful virgins, who are hanging in the gallows-field shamefully; he is for this country a greater evil than war, death, and pestilence; brother, i would kill him." but toon looked at magtelt and answered nothing. "brother," said she, "thou must not refuse me, for my heart bids me go. canst thou not see how sad and downcast i am in this house, and how i shall die of sorrow if i do not that which i should. but having been to him i shall come back joyous and singing as before." but the silent said not a word. "ah," she said, "dost fear for me, seeing how many good knights have assailed him and been by him shamefully overthrown, even thyself, my brave brother, who carriest even now his marks? i am not ignorant that on his shield is written: 'none can stand against me.' but what others could not, one may do. he goes glorying in his strength, more terrible than an oliphant, prouder than a lion, thinking himself invincible, but when the beast goes with assurance the hunter follows the more easily. brother, may i go to halewyn?" when magtelt had reached so far in her speech, suddenly there fell from the wall whereon it was fastened a fair sword well set and sharpened, and with the blade stout to the hilt. the handpiece was of cedar of lebanon, set out with golden cresslets, and in the castle this sword was held to be of marvellous virtue and holiness, because it had been brought from the crusade by roeland de heurne, the lion. and none dared use it. the sword, falling, lay at the feet of magtelt. "brother," said magtelt, crossing herself, "the good sword of the lion has fallen at my feet; 'tis the very strong god showing thus his will. he must be obeyed, brother; let me go to halewyn." and toon the silent, crossing himself as magtelt had done, answered: "'tis all one to me where thou go, if thou cherish thine honour and carry thy crown straight." "brother," she said, "i thank you." and the noble maid began to tremble mightily from head to foot; and she who had not shed a tear on hearing of anne-mie's death and her brother's dishonour, fell to weeping abundantly, whereby her bitter anger was melted, and bursting into tears by reason of her great joy she said again: "brother, brother, 'tis the hour of god! i go to the reckoning!" and she took the good sword. the silent, seeing her so brave, lifted himself straight before her and put his hand on her shoulder. "go," said he. and she went out. xxvi. of the noble apparel of the maid magtelt. in her own room she dressed herself in her most beautiful clothes as quickly as she could. what did the fair maid put on her white body? a bodice finer than silk. and over the fine bodice? a robe of cloth-of-scarlet of flemish blue, whereon were the arms of de heurne marvellously worked, and the edges next to the feet and the neck embroidered with fine cyprian gold. wherewith did the fair maid bind in her slender waist? with a girdle of the hide of a lion, studded with gold. what had the fair maid on her beautiful shoulders? her great keirle, which was of cramoisy stitched with cyprian gold, and covered her from head to foot, for it was an ample cloak. what had the fair maid on her proud head? a fine crown of beaten gold, whence fell tresses of pale hair as long as herself. what held she in her little hand? the blessed sword brought from the crusade. so apparelled she went out to the stable, and harnessed schimmel, the great war-horse, with his saddle of state, a fine leathern seat, painted in divers colours, and richly worked with gold. and they set out together, through the snow falling thickly. xxvii. how sir roel and the lady gonde questioned toon the silent, and of what he answered. while magtelt was on her way to halewyn, and when the first hour of her journey had already gone by, the lady gonde questioned sir roel: "sir," she said, "do you know where our daughter may be?" sir roel said that he knew nothing of it; and speaking to the silent: "son," said he, "dost thou know where thy sister has gone?" the silent answered quietly: "magtelt is a brave maid; whom god leads he leads well." "sir," said the lady gonde, "do not put yourself to the trouble of questioning him further, for saying so much he has used up his words." but sir roel to toon: "son, dost thou not know where she is?" "magtelt," answered he, "is a fair maid, and carries her crown straight." "ah," exclaimed the lady gonde, "i am growing anxious; where is she then?" and she went off to search the castle thoroughly. but coming back she said to sir roel: "she is nowhere in the house; she has defied our orders and gone to halewyn." "wife," said roel, "that cannot be. children, in this country, were always obedient to their parents." "toon," said she, "where is she? toon, do you not know?" "the miserable," he answered, "fears the beautiful maid; whom god leads he leads well." "roel," cried out the lady gonde, "he knows where our magtelt has gone!" "son, answer," said sir roel. the silent answered: "the sword of the crusade fell from the wall at the maid's feet. whom god guides succeeds in everything." "toon," cried the lady gonde, "where is magtelt?" "the virgin," he said, "rides without fear, she goes faster than the armed man: whom god leads he leads well." the lady gonde groaned: "ah," she said, "our magtelt will be killed, even now she is stiff frozen, sweet jesus! the sword of the crusade is of no avail against siewert halewyn." the silent answered: "he glories in his strength, thinking himself invincible, but when the beast goes with assurance the hunter follows more easily." "wicked son, how couldst thou think to send the little bird to the hawk, the virgin to the enemy of virgins?" the silent answered: "she will come whither none looks to see her: whom god leads he leads well." "sir," said the lady gonde to roel, "you hear what he says; she has gone to halewyn, and 'tis this wicked son that gave her leave." sir roel going to toon: "son," said he, "we had here but one joy, that was our magtelt. thou hast abused thy privilege in giving her leave to go thither. if she comes not back to us by nightfall i will curse thee and banish thee from my house. may god hear me, and take from thee, in this world bread and salt, and in the other thy portion in paradise." "god," said the silent, "will guide the sword. whosoever has done wrong, on him let fall the punishment." gonde began crying out, weeping and making dole. roel bade her be silent, and sent a goodly troop of men-at-arms in the direction she had taken. but they came back without having seen anything of magtelt, for they had not dared to go into the territory of halewyn by reason of the spell. xxviii. the riding of the maid magtelt. singing and winding her horn, rides the noble damosel. and she is beautiful with a beauty from heaven; fresh and rosy are her cheeks. and straight she carries her crown. and her little hand holds fast beneath her keirle the good sword of roel the lion. and wide open are her fearless eyes, searching the forest for sir halewyn. and she listens for the sound of his horse. but she hears nothing, except, in the heavy silence, the still sound of snowflakes falling quietly like feathers. and she sees nothing, except the air whitened with snow, and white also the long road, and white also the leafless trees. what is it makes the flame glow in her clear brown eyes? it is her high courage. why does she carry so straight her head and her crown? because of the great strength in her heart. what is it so swells her breast? the cruel thought of anne-mie, and her brother's shame and the great crimes of sir halewyn. and ceaselessly she looks to see if he be not coming, and if she can hear nothing of the sound of his horse. but she sees nothing, except the air whitened with snow, and white also the long road, and white also the leafless trees. and she hears nothing, except, in the heavy silence, the still sound of snowflakes falling quietly like feathers. and she sings. then, speaking to schimmel, she said: "together, good schimmel, we are going to a lion. canst not see him in his cavern, awaiting passers-by, and devouring poor maids?" and schimmel, hearing her, whinnied joyously. "schimmel," said magtelt, "thou art glad, i see, to be going to the revenge of anne-mie with the good sword." and schimmel whinnied a second time. and magtelt sought sir halewyn everywhere as she went through the forest. and she listened well for the sound of his horse, and looked to see if he were nowhere coming. and she saw nothing, except the air whitened with snow, and white also the long road, and white also the leafless trees. and she heard nothing, except, in the heavy silence, the still sound of snowflakes falling quietly like feathers. and she wound her horn. xxix. of the crow and the sparrow, of the hound, the horse and the seven echoes. when she reached the middle part of the forest, she saw through the thick snowflakes sir halewyn coming towards her. the miserable had that day on his body a fine dress of blue cloth, on which was broidered in two colours his ugly arms. round his waist he had a fair belt studded with lumps of gold, and at his belt the golden sickle, and over his dress a fair opperst-kleed of corn-coloured cloth-of-scarlet. riding on his roan horse he came up to magtelt, and she saw that he was handsome. before his horse, barking and making a great noise, ran a hound like a wolf, which, on seeing schimmel, leapt at him and bit him. but schimmel, with a great kick which he let fly, set him dancing a sorry dance, and singing a pitiful song over his broken paw. "ah," thought the maid, "god grant, brave schimmel, that i may do better for the master than thou hast done for the dog." and the miserable came to her: "salutation," he said, "fair maid with clear brown eyes." "salutation," she said, "siewert halewyn the invincible." but the miserable: "what brings thee," he said, "into my lands?" "my heart," said magtelt, "bade me come, i wished greatly to see thee, and am content now that i can look at thee face to face." "so," said he, "have done and shall do all virgins, even more beautiful than thou art." while they were talking together the wounded hound made a rush at the horse and hung on to halewyn's opperst-kleed as if he would drag him down to the ground. having done this, he went off and sat down in the snow beside the road, and there lifting up his muzzle howled most lamentably. "see," said he, "my hound crying out to death. hast no fear, maid?" "i go," she said, "in god's keeping." having moved forward a little way, talking and riding together, they saw in the air above their heads, a crow of great size, on whose neck was perched an angry little sparrow, pecking him, clutching him, pulling out his feathers and piping furiously. wounded, torn open, flying this way and that, right, left, upward, downward, banging against the trees blindly, and croaking with pain, this crow at length fell dead, with his eyes pecked out, across halewyn's saddle. having looked at it a moment, he tossed it aside into the road; while the sparrow flew off to a bough, and there, shaking out his feathers merrily, fell a-piping at the top of his voice in celebration of his victory. "ah," said magtelt, laughing to the sparrow, "thou art of noble blood, little bird; come hither, i will find thee a fair cage and give thee thy fill of wheat, millet, hemp, and linseed." but halewyn became mightily angry: "common little insolent!" he cried, "would that i had thee in a snare! shouldst not then sing for long thy victory over this noble crow." none the less the sparrow went on singing without a break, and in this wise seemed to mock at halewyn, who said to magtelt: "dost dare to applaud and give heart to this little animal, knowing that my shield bears on it the crow of my glorious ancestor dirk! knowest thou not that like him thou hast but little longer to sing?" "i," she said, "shall sing as long as it pleases god, my master." "there is for thee," said he, "no other master than i, for here i rule alone." suddenly he turned very cold, for the heart of anne-mie, though it still beat, was become like ice in his breast. so, thinking that this heart was about to dry up, he said to magtelt: "thou comest in good season, fair virgin." "whom god leads," said she, "comes always in good season." "but," he said, "who art thou, riding in my land, singing and winding the horn, who bringest hither such insolent talk?" "i," said she, "am the lady magtelt, daughter of roel le preux, lord of heurne." "and," said he, "art thou not chilled, riding thus in the snow?" "none," she said, "feels the cold in the race of the lords of heurne." "and," said he, "hast thou no fear, here at my side and on my own land, where no one dares to set foot?" "none," she said, "knows of fear in the race of the lords of heurne." "thou art," said he, "a brave maid." "i," she said, "am daughter of roel le preux, lord of heurne." he answered nothing to that, and they went on a while without speaking. suddenly he said, lifting his head arrogantly: "am i not truly the invincible, the beautiful, the strong? shall i not be so always? yes, for all things come to my aid in the hour of victory. in former times i must needs sing, in cold, snow, wind, and darkness, to call virgins to me, but now the most proud, noble, and beautiful of maids comes hither in broad day without song to call her: sure sign of growing power. who is my equal? none, save god. he has the heavens and i the earth, and over all living things triumph and mastery. let come what may, armies, lightning, thunder, tempest; who can stand but i?" "i!" answered to his hideous blasphemy seven voices speaking together. those voices were the echo of the seven giants, which sent back every sound seven times over with great force and volume. but the miserable: "hark!" said he, "my lord echo dares to mock the invincible." and he burst out laughing. but the echo burst out laughing likewise, and laughed loud, long, and terribly. and halewyn appeared well pleased at the noise, and went on laughing, with the seven echoes after him. and it seemed to magtelt as it were a thousand men hidden in the forest. and meanwhile the hound had taken fright and howled so desperately that it seemed to magtelt as it were a thousand hounds in the forest crying out to death. the miserable's horse had taken fright also, and was so terrified at his master's laughter, the dog's howls, and his own neighing, all ringing out together, that he plunged, reared, stood up on his hind legs like a man, laid back his ears with fear, and would, without doubt, have thrown halewyn from his back, if, driving him onward with his spurs, he had not made him pass by force the place of the seven echoes. but schimmel had not moved at all, and this strangely enough, for he was a young horse, apt to be alarmed. when the noise was over they rode on their way, speaking few words together as they rode. and together they came to the gallows-field. xxx. how magtelt came to the gallows-field. there magtelt saw the sixteen virgins hanging, and amongst them anne-mie, and all were covered over with snow. halewyn's horse began again to rear, plunge, and lay back his ears as a sign of fear; but schimmel neighed, and pawed the ground proudly with his hoof. and halewyn said to magtelt: "thou hast there an unfaithful friend, who can neigh happily at the hour of thy death." but magtelt answered nothing, and looking steadfastly at those poor virgins prayed to the very strong god to help her in their revenge. meanwhile the miserable alighted from his horse, and taking the golden sickle in his hand came towards magtelt. "it is," he said, "the hour of thy death. get down, therefore, as i have done." and in his impatience he would have lifted her from schimmel's back. but magtelt: "leave me," she said, "to get down by myself; if i must die 'twill be without weeping." "thou art a fine girl," said he. and she, having dismounted from her horse, said: "my lord, before thou strikest, doff thine opperst-kleed of the colour of corn, for the blood of virgins gushes fiercely, and if mine should stain thee i should be grieved." but before the opperst-kleed was off his shoulders, his head fell to the ground at his feet. and magtelt, looking at the body, said: "he strode confidently, thinking himself invincible; but when the beast goes with assurance the hunter follows more easily." and she crossed herself. xxxi. of the sixteen deaths and of the prince of the stones. suddenly the head spoke, saying: "go thou to the end of the road, and sound my horn aloud, so that my friends may hear." but magtelt: "to the end of the road will i not go; thine horn will i not sound; murderer's counsel will i not follow." "ah," said the head, "if thou art not the virgin without pity, join me to my body, and with the heart that is in my breast anoint my red wound." but magtelt: "i am the virgin without pity; to thy body will i not join thee, and with the heart that is in thy breast will i not anoint thy red wound." "maid," said the head, weeping and speaking with great terror, "maid, quickly, quickly, make on my body the sign of the cross, and carry me into my castle, for he is coming." while the head was speaking, suddenly came out of the wood the prince of the stones, and he came and seated himself on the body of the miserable, and taking in his hands the head: "salutation," he said, "to the ill-favoured one; art thou now content? what of thy triumphant bearing, my lord the invincible? she whom thou calledst not came without a song: the virgin without fear, in whose hands is death. but thou must sing once again thy sweet song, the song to call virgins." "ah," said the head, "make me not sing, lord prince of the stones, for i know well enough that at the end there is great suffering." "sing," said the prince of the stones, "sing, coward that hast never wept to do evil, and now weepest at the time of punishment: sing, miserable." "ah," said the head, "have pity, lord." "sing," said the prince of the stones, "sing, 'tis the hour of god." "my lord prince," said the head, "be not so hard in my evil hour." "sing, miserable," said the prince of the stones, "sing, 'tis the hour of the reckoning." "ah," said the head, weeping, "i will sing, since you are my master." and the head sang the faery song. and suddenly there spread abroad in the air a smell of cinnamon, frankincense, and sweet marjoram. and the sixteen virgins, hearing the song, came down from the gallows and drew near to the body of halewyn. and magtelt, crossing herself, watched them pass, but felt no fear. and the first virgin, who was the daughter of the poor simpleton, claes the dog-beater, took the golden sickle, and cutting into the breast of the miserable below the left nipple drew out a great ruby, and put this on her wound, where it melted into rich red blood in her breast. and the head let a great pitiful cry of pain. "so," said the prince of the stones, "did the poor virgins cry out when thou madest them pass from life unto death; sixteen times hast thou brought death about, sixteen times shalt thou die, besides the death thou hast suffered already. the cry is the cry of the body when the soul leaves it; sixteen times hast thou drawn this cry from other bodies, sixteen times shall cry out thine own; sing, miserable, to call the virgins to the reckoning." and the head sang again the faery song, while the first virgin walked away silently towards the wood like a living person. and the second virgin came to the body of the miserable and did to it as the first had done. and she also walked away into the wood like a living person. so did each of the sixteen virgins, and for each of them a ruby was changed into good red blood. and sixteen times the head sang the faery song, and sixteen times gave the death-cry. and one by one all the virgins went away into the depth of the wood. and the last of all, who was anne-mie, came to magtelt, and kissing her right hand wherein she had held the sword: "blessed be thou," she said, "who camest without fear, and, delivering us from the spell, leadest us into paradise." "ah," said magtelt, "must thou go so far away, anne-mie?" but anne-mie, without hearing her, passed like the others into the depth of the wood, walking silently over the snow like a living person. while the head was weeping and uttering bitter plaints, came out from the forest the child of nine years old, whom the miserable had killed first of all. still wearing her shroud she approached and fell at the feet of the mannikin prince of the stones. "ah," she said, kissing the head tenderly, stroking it, caressing it, and wiping away its tears, "poor miserable, i will pray for thee to the very good god, who readily hears the prayers of children." and the girl prayed in this wise: "dear lord, see how much he is suffering! is it not payment enough that he should die sixteen times? ah, lord, sweet lord, and you, madam mary, who are so kind, deign to hear me and grant him forgiveness." but the mannikin, starting up, pushed the child away and said harshly: "this head is mine, thy prayers avail nothing; be off, little ragamuffin, go back whence thou came." and the child went away like the other maids into the depth of the wood. then he thrust his hand into the breast of the miserable and pulled out a heart of stone: then, in his rasping voice, which hissed like a viper and scraped like a thousand pebbles under the iron sole of an armed man, he said: "ambitious heart, heart of stone, thou wast in thy lifetime cruel and a coward; thou couldst not be content with such ample gifts as god in his bounty had given thee, thou hadst no desire towards goodness, courage, or just dealing, but towards gold, power, and vain honours; thou hadst no love for anything, neither father, mother, brother, nor sister; and so, to get more power and higher jurisdiction, thou killedst the people of the land of flanders, without shame: and so also thou didst set thyself to hurt the weak, sucking thy life from their life, and thy blood from their blood. so have done and so shall always do this reptile order of ambitious ugly men. blessed be god, who, by the hands of this frail and winsome maid, has cut off thine head from thy neck and taken thee from the world." as he spoke he had thrown the heart down into the snow, and trampling over it with great despite, kicking it with his toe like a vile thing, and laughing bitterly, he spoke again in his rasping voice: "stone thou art, stone shalt thou be a thousand years, but a live stone, a suffering stone. and when men come and carve thee, cleave thee, grind thee to powder, thou shalt endure it all without being able to cry out. ambitious heart, heart of stone, suffer and bleed, my cousin. "thou hast starved poor folk, so shalt thou starve a thousand years; thou hast brought cold into their homes, thou shalt freeze in like manner. ambitious heart, heart of stone, suffer and bleed, my cousin. "thou shalt be a hearth-stone and burn with the heat; paving-stone, and let men walk over thee; stone of a church, and bear upon thee all the weight of the building; and thou shalt suffer every evil, pain, and anguish. ambitious heart, heart of stone, suffer and endure, my cousin." having said this the prince of the stones, driving before him with his foot the miserable's heart, disappeared among the trees of the forest. then magtelt looked at the head, and saw that its eyes were open wide. she took it up and washed it with snow, then, carrying it with her, rode away on schimmel, leaving near the body halewyn's horse and hound, the one moaning softly, the other watching it with sorrowful wonderment. as she took up the head, the hound growled, but did not dare touch her. and while she rode away, horse and hound stayed by the body, downcast and sad, and covered with the snow which fell without ceasing. and they seemed to be guarding their master. xxxii. how father, mother, and sister sought everywhere their son and brother, and could not find him. singing and winding her horn rides the noble maid magtelt. and in her heart is joy, at the thought that anne-mie, the fifteen virgins, and toon the silent are avenged. and her hand holds fast beneath her keirle the good sword and the head of halewyn. and schimmel trots quickly, eager to be back in his stable. while she was riding she saw, through the thick snow falling, an old man coming towards her on a black horse. and the old man said: "beautiful maid, riding so fast, hast seen my son halewyn?" and magtelt: "i left thy son halewyn well placed, taking his diversion in the snow with sixteen maidens." and the old man rode on. when she had gone farther she saw, through the thick snow falling, a young and rosy-cheeked damosel coming towards her on a white palfrey. and the damosel said: "beautiful maid, riding so fast, hast seen my brother halewyn?" but magtelt: "go farther, to the gallows-field, where thou shalt see thy brother in like guise to the sixteen maidens." and the damosel rode on. farther still on her way, magtelt saw, through the thick snow falling, a young man of haughty and stiff-necked countenance coming towards her on a roan charger. and the young man said: "beautiful maid, riding so fast, hast seen my brother halewyn?" but magtelt: "thy brother is a fair lord, so fair that round him sixteen maidens stand sentinel, unwilling to let him go." and the young man rode on. after travelling on her way still farther, she saw, through the thick snow falling, an old woman, high-coloured and of robust seeming, despite her great age, coming towards her. and the old woman said: "beautiful maid, riding so fast, hast seen my son halewyn?" but magtelt: "thy son siewert halewyn is dead; see, here is his head beneath my keirle, and his blood running thick on my dress." and the old woman cried out: "if thou had spoken these words earlier thou shouldst not have ridden so far." but magtelt: "thou art fortunate, old woman, in that i have left thee thine own body and not slain thee as i have thy son." and the old dame took fright and made off. and night fell. xxxiii. of the feast in the castle of heurne, and of the head upon the table. schimmel trotted quickly, and soon magtelt reached her father's castle and there sounded the horn. josse van ryhove, who was gate-keeper that night, was filled with amazement at the sight of her. then he cried out: "thanks be to god, 'tis our damosel come home again." and all the household ran to the gate crying out likewise with great noise and much shouting: "our damosel is come home." magtelt, going into the great hall, went to sir roel and knelt before him: "my lord father," she said, "here is the head of siewert halewyn." sir roel, taking the head in his hands and looking at it well, was so overcome with joy that he wept for the first time since the eyes were in his head. and the silent, rising up, came to magtelt, kissed her right hand wherewith she had held the sword, and wept likewise, saying: "thanks be to thee who hast brought about the reckoning." the lady gonde was like a woman drunk with joy, and could not find her tongue. at last, bursting into sobs, melting into tears, and embracing magtelt eagerly: "ah, ah," she cried out, "kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, little one! she has slain the miserable, the sweet maid; the nightingale has vanquished the falcon! my child is come home again, home again my child. noël! thanks be to god who loves aged mothers and will not have them robbed of their children. noël! see, magtelt the beautiful, magtelt the singing-bird, magtelt the joyous, magtelt the bright of heart, magtelt the glorious, magtelt the victorious, magtelt my daughter, my child, my all, noël!" and magtelt smiled at her, caressing her and stroking her hands gently. and the lady gonde, weeping freely, let her do, without speaking. "ah," said sir roel, "i never saw my wife before in such festival mood." then suddenly he cried out: "festival," quoth he, "this should be a day of festival, the great feast of the house of heurne!" and he threw open the door to call his pages, grooms, men-at-arms, and all the household. but they all held back, not daring to enter. "ho!" cried he, in his great joyous voice, "where are cooks and kitchen-maids? where are cauldrons, pots, and frying-pans? where are barrels, kegs, flagons and bottles, tankards, mugs, and goblets? where is clauwaert simple and double? where is old wine and new wine? where are hams and sausages, whales' tongues, and loins of beef, meat of the air, meat of the waters, and meat of the fields? bring in everything there is and set it on the table, for this must be a feast-day in this house, feast for an emperor, a king, a prince; for"--and so saying he held up the miserable's head by the hair--"our beloved maid has slain with her own hand the lord siewert halewyn." hearing this they all cried out with a roar like thunder: "praise be to god! noël to our damosel!" "go then," said sir roel, "and do as i have bid." and when the great feast was served the head was put in the middle of the table. on the morrow there was let cry war in the seigneury of heurne. and sir roel went with a goodly force of men to attack by arms the castle of the miserable, whereof all the relatives, friends, and followers were either hanged or slain. and my lord the count gave to the family of heurne, the goods, titles and territories of halewyn, excepting only the ugly shield, and theirs they remain to this day. smetse smee i. of smetse, his belly, and his forge. smetse smee lived in the good town of ghent, on the quai aux oignons, beside the fair river lys. he was well skilled in his trade, rich in bodily fat, and with so jolly a countenance that the most melancholy of men were cheered and took heart for no more than the sight of him in his smithy, trotting about on his short legs, head up and belly forward, seeing to everything. when work was in full swing in his shop, smetse, listening to the busy sounds round the fire, would say, with his hands clasped across his stomach, quietly and happily: "by artevelde! what are drums, cymbals, fifes, viols, and bagpipes worth? for heavenly music give me my sledges beating, my anvils ringing, my bellows roaring, my good workmen singing and hammering." then, speaking to them all: "courage," he would say, "my children! who works well from daybreak drinks the better for it at vespers. whose is that feeble arm down there, tapping with his hammer so gently? does he think he is cracking eggs, the faint-heart? to those bars, dolf, and plunge them in the water. to that breastplate, pier, beat it out for us fine and true: iron well beaten is proof against bullets. to that plough-share, flipke, and good work to it, too: from the plough comes the world's bread. to the door, toon, here comes the raw-boned nag of don sancio d'avila, the knight with the sour countenance, brought hither by his raw-boned groom, who is for having him shod, no doubt: let him pay double for his spanish haughtiness and his harshness to poor folk!" so went smetse about his smithy, singing mostly, and whistling when he was not singing. and for the rest getting much honest gain, profiting in health, and, at vespers, drinking bruinbier with a will in the inn of pensaert. ii. how slimbroek the red put out the fire in smetse's forge. by and by there came to the quai aux oignons a certain adriaen slimbroek, who set up, with the licence of the guild, another smithy. this slimbroek was an ugly, wizened, lean and puny personage, white-faced, underhung in the jaw like a fox, and nicknamed the red on account of the colour of his hair. skilled in intrigue, expert in sharp-practice, master of arts in cant and hypocrisy, and making himself out to be the finest of smiths, he had interested in his business all the rich and gentle folk of the town, who from fear or otherwise held to the spaniards and wished ill to those of the reformed faith. they were before, for the most part, customers of smetse, but slimbroek had put them against him, saying: "this smetse is a knave to the bottom of his heart, he was a marauder in his young days, sailing the seas with the men of zeeland in despite of spain, on the side of this religion which they call reformed. he still has many friends and relatives in walcheren, more particularly at middelburg, arnemuiden, camp-veere, and flushing, all obstinate protestants, and speaking of the pope of rome and my lords the archdukes without veneration. "and for the rest," added he, "this fellow smetse is altogether an atheist, reading the bible of antwerp in despite of the decrees, and going to church only because he is afraid, and not at all because he will." by such slanders as these slimbroek robbed smetse of all his customers. and soon the fire was out in the forge of the good smith, and soon, too, the savings were eaten up, and dame misery came to the dwelling. iii. wherein slimbroek is seen in the river prettily tricked out. brought to this pass smetse, nevertheless, would not let himself take to despair; but he was always sad and heavy of heart when, sitting in his cold smithy and looking at all his good tools lying idle on the ground, he heard the fair sound of hammers and anvils coming from slimbroek's shop. but what angered him most was that whenever he passed before slimbroek's dwelling the traitor carrot-head would appear suddenly on the threshold, and, saluting him graciously and giving him fair compliments, would make a hundred flattering speeches, accompanied by as many hypocritical salutations, and all for the sake of poking fun at him and to laugh unkindly at his misery. these ugly encounters and grimaces went on a long while, and smetse came to the end of his patience: "ah," said he, "it angers me to be in such poor case; although i must submit, for such is the holy will of god. but it irks me too bitterly to see this wicked knave, who by his trickeries has taken away all my customers, so amusing himself with my misery." meanwhile slimbroek spared him not at all, and each day became sharper in speech, for the more wrong he did to the good smith the more hate he bore him. and smetse swore to have his revenge on him, in such a way as to spoil thenceforward his taste for mockery. it so happened that one sunday when he was standing on the quai des bateliers, looking at the river with a crowd of watermen, townsfolk, boys, and scholars who were idle for the holy day, suddenly there came out of a pothouse, wherein he had been swallowing many pints of ale, slimbroek, bolder than usual on account of the drink. seeing smetse he came and placed himself close to him, and with much gesticulation, loud bursts of talk and laughter, said to him in an insolent tone: "good day, smetse, good day, my worthy friend. how is thy fine face? it seems to lose its fat, which was of good quality, smetse. 'tis a great pity. what is the reason for it? art thou angry at the loss of thy customers, smetse? thou must drink well to bring back the joy to thy stomach, smetse. we never see thee now at vespers in the inn of pensaert; why, smetse? hast no pennies to get drink? i have plenty for thee, if thou wilt, smetse." and he shook his money-bag to make it ring. "thank thee kindly," said smetse, "thou art too generous, master slimbroek, 'tis my turn to stand thee drink now." "ah," cried slimbroek, feigning pity and compassion, "why wilt thou stand drink to me? the world knows thou art not rich, smetse." "rich enough," answered the smith, "to stand thee the best draught thou ever had." "hark to him," said slimbroek to the crowd of watermen and townsfolk, "hark to him. smetse will stand us drink! the world is coming to an end. 'tis the year of golden rags. smetse will stand us drink! ah! i shall taste with great pleasure the bruinbier that smetse will stand us. i am thirsty as an african desert, thirsty as sunday, thirsty as a devil half-boiled in the cauldrons of lucifer." "drink then, slimbroek," said smetse, and threw him into the river. seeing this the people who were on the quay applauded heartily, and all ran to the edge to have a good look at slimbroek, who, falling into the water head first, had struck and broken through the belly of a dog a long while dead, which was floating down on the stream as such carrion will. and he was tricked out round the neck with this dog in a most marvellous manner, nor could he get rid of it, being busy with his arms at keeping himself afloat, and his face was smeared all over with offensive matter. notwithstanding that he was half-blinded, he dared not come out on to the quay where smetse was, but swam off towards the other bank, decked with his carrion and blowing like a hundred devils. "well," said smetse, "dost find the bruinbier to thy liking; is it not the best in all the land of flanders? but my good sir, take off thy bonnet to drink; such headgear is not worn for river parties." when slimbroek was in midstream, over against the bridge, smetse went up on to this bridge with the other onlookers, and slimbroek, in the midst of his puffing and snorting, cried out to smetse: "i'll have thee hanged, accursed reformer!" "ah," said the good smith, "you are mistaken, my friend; 'tis not i who am the reformer, but you, who devise these new bonnets. where got you this one? i have never seen such a one, neither so beautiful, nor so richly ornamented with tufts and hangings. is the fashion coming to ghent by and by?" slimbroek answered nothing, and struggled to get rid of the dead dog, but in vain, and having paused in his swimming for this purpose, went down to the bottom, and came up again more furious than ever, blowing harder, and trying all the while to tear off the body." "leave your hat on, my master," said smetse, "do not so put yourself out in order to salute me, i am not worth the trouble. leave it on." at last slimbroek climbed out of the water. on the quay he shook off the dog hastily and made away as fast as he could to his dwelling. but he was followed by a crowd of young watermen and boys, who ran after him hooting, whistling, covering him with mud and other filth. and they continued to do the same to his house-front after he had gone in. iv. of the two branches. in this wise smetse had his revenge on slimbroek, who thereafter dared not look him in the face, and hid when he passed. but the good smith, nevertheless, had no more pleasure in anything than before, for with every passing day he became more and more needy, having already, with his wife, used up what help came to them from the guild, and also a small sum of silver from middelburg in walcheren. ashamed to get his living by begging and knavery, and knowing how to bear with his lot no longer, he resolved to kill himself. so one night he left his house, and went out to the moats of the town, which are bordered by fine trees, forked and spreading down to the ground. there he fastened a stone to his neck, commended his soul to god, and, stepping back three paces to get a better start, ran and jumped. but while he was in the very act he was caught suddenly by two branches, which, falling upon his shoulders, gripped him like man's hands and held him fast where he was. these branches were neither cold nor hard, as wood naturally is, but supple and warm. and he heard at the same instant a strange and scoffing voice saying: "where goest thou, smetse?" but he could not answer by reason of his great astonishment. and although there was no wind the trunks and branches of the tree moved and swung about like serpents uncoiling, while all around there crackled above ten hundred thousand sparks. and smetse grew more afraid, and a hot breath passed across his face, and the voice, speaking again, but nearer, or so it seemed, repeated: "where goest thou, smetse?" but he could not speak for fear, and because his throttle was dry and his teeth chattering. "why," said the voice, "dost not dare answer him who wishes thee naught but well? where goest thou, smetse?" hearing so pleasant and friendly a speech, the good smith took heart and answered with great humility: "lord whom i cannot see, i was going to kill myself, for life is no longer bearable." "smetse is mad," said the voice. "so i am, if you will, lord," answered the smith; "nevertheless when my smithy is lost to me by the cunning of a wicked neighbour, and i have no way to live but by begging and knavery, 'twould be greater madness in me to live than to die." "smetse," said the voice, "is mad to wish himself dead, for he shall have again, if he will, his fair smithy, his good red fire, his good workmen, and as many golden royals in his coffers as he sees sparks in this tree." "i," exclaimed the smith in great delight, "shall never have such fine things as that! they are not for such miserables as i." "smetse," said the voice, "all things are possible to my master." "ah," said the smith, "you come from the devil, lord?" "yes," answered the voice, "and i come to thee on his account to propose a bargain: for seven years thou shalt be rich, thou shalt have thy smithy the finest in the town of ghent; thou shalt win gold enough to pave the quai aux oignons; thou shalt have in thy cellars enough beer and wine to wet all the dry throttles in flanders; thou shalt eat the finest meats and the most delicate game; thou shalt have hams in plenty, sausages in abundance, mince-pies in heaps; every one shall respect thee, admire thee, sing thy praises; slimbroek at the sight of it shall be filled with rage; and for all these great benefits thou hast only to give us thy soul at the end of seven years." "my soul?" said smetse, "'tis the only thing i have; would you not, my lord devil, make me rich at a less price?" "wilt thou or wilt thou not, smith?" said the voice. "ah," answered smetse, "you offer me things that are very desirable, even, my lord devil (if i may say it without offence), more than i wish; for if i might have only my forge and enough customers to keep the fire alight i should be happier than my lord albert or madam isabella." "take or leave it, smith," said the voice. "lord devil," answered smetse, "i beg you not to become angry with me, but to deign to consider that if you give me but my forge, and not all this gold, wine, and meats, you might perhaps be content to let my soul burn for a thousand years, which time is not at all to be compared with the great length of all eternity, but would seem long enough to whomever must pass it in the fire." "thy forge for thee, thy soul for us; take or leave it, smith," said the voice. "ah," lamented smetse, "'tis dear bought, and no offence to you, lord devil." "well then, smith," said the voice, "to riches thou preferest beggary? do as thou wilt. ah, thou wilt have great joy when, walking with thy melancholy countenance about the streets of ghent, thou art fled by every one and dogs snap at thy heels; when thy wife dies of hunger, and thou chantest mea culpa in vain; then when, alone in the world, thou beatest on thy shrunken belly the drum for a feast, and the little girls dancing to such music give thee a slap in the face for payment; then, at last, when thou dost hide thyself in thy house so that thy rags shall not be seen in the town, and there, scabby, chatter-tooth, vermin-fodder, thou diest alone on thy dung-hill like a leper, and art put into the earth, and slimbroek comes to make merry at thy downfall." "ah," said smetse, "he would do it, the knave." "do not await this vile end," said the voice, "it were better to die now: leap into the water, smetse; leap, smee." "alas," lamented he, "if i give myself to you, i shall burn for all eternity." "thou wilt not burn," said the voice, "but serve us for food, good smith." "i?" cried smetse, much frightened at these words, "do you think to eat me down there? i am not good for eating, i must tell you. there is no meat more sour, tough, common, and vulgar than mine is. it has been at one time and another diseased with plague, itch, and other vile maladies. ah, i should make you a shabby feast, you and the others, my lord devil, who have in hell so many souls which are noble, succulent, tasty, and well-fed. but mine is not at all good, i declare." "thou art wrong, smith," said the voice. "souls of wicked emperors, kings, princes, popes, famous captains of arms, conquerors, slayers of men, and other brigands, are always as hard as an eagle's beak; for so their omnipotence fashions them; we break our teeth off bit by bit in eating them. others, having been eaten up beforehand by ambition and cruelty, which are like ravenous worms, give us hardly a crumb to pick. souls of girls who, without want or hunger, sell for money what nature bids them give for nothing, are so rotten, putrid, and evil-smelling that the hungriest of devils will not touch them. souls of vain men are bladders, and within there is nothing but wind; 'tis poor food. souls of hypocrites, canters, liars, are like beautiful apples without, but beneath the skin are full of bile, gall, sour wine, and frightful poison; none of us will have any ado with them. souls of envious men are as toads, who from spleen at being so ugly, run yellow spittle on whatever is clean and shining, from mouth, feet, and all their bodies. souls of gluttons are naught but cow-dung. souls of good drinkers are always tasty, and above all when they have about them the heavenly smell of good wine and good bruinbier. but there is no soul so tasty, delectable, succulent, or of such fine flavour as that of a good woman, a good workman, or a good smith such as thou. for, working without intermission, they have no time for sin to touch and stain them, unless it be once or twice only, and for this reason we catch them whenever we can; but 'tis a rare dish, kept for the royal table of my lord lucifer." "ah," said smetse, "you have made up your mind to eat me, i see well enough; nevertheless 'twould not cost you much to give me back my forge for nothing." "'tis no great discomfort," said the voice, "to be so eaten, for my lord and king has a mouth larger than had the fish whereby jonah the jew was swallowed in olden time; thou wilt go down like an oyster into his stomach, without having been wounded by his teeth in any wise; there, if it displease thee to stay, thou must dance with feet and hands as hard as thou canst, and my lord will at once spit thee out, for he will not find it possible to stand for long such a drubbing. falling at his feet thou wilt show him a joyous face, a steady look in his eyes, and a good countenance, and the same to madam astarte, who, without a doubt, will take thee for her pet, as she has done already to several; thereafter thou wilt have a joyous time, serving my lady merrily and brushing his hair for my lord; as for the rest of us, we shall be right glad to have you with us, for, among all these familiar vile and ugly faces of conquerors, plunderers, thieves, and assassins, 'twill do us good to see the honest countenance of a merry smith, as thou art." "my lord devil," said smetse, "i do not merit such honour. i can well believe, from what you tell me, that 'tis pleasant enough down there with you. but i should be ill at ease, i must tell you, being naturally uncouth in the company of strangers; and so i should bring no joy with me, and should not be able to sing; and therefore you would get but poor amusement from me, i know in advance. ah, give me back rather my good forge and my old customers, and hold me quit; this would be the act of a royal devil and would sit well upon you." suddenly the voice spoke with anger: "smith, wilt thou pay us in such ape's coin? life is no longer of benefit to thee, death is abhorrent, and thou wouldst have from us without payment the seven full, rich and joyous years which i offer thee. accept or refuse, thy forge for thee, thy soul for us, under the conditions i have told thee." "alas," said smetse, "then i will have it so, since it must be, lord devil!" "well then," said the voice, "set thy mark in blood to this deed." and a black parchment, with a crow's quill, fell from the tree at the smith's feet. he read on the parchment, in letters of fire, the pact of seven years, opened his arm with his knife, and signed with the crow's quill. and while he was still holding the parchment and the quill, he felt them suddenly snatched from his hands with violence, but he saw nothing, and only heard a noise as of a man running in slipper-shoes, and the voice saying as it went into the distance: "thou hast the seven years, smetse." and the tree ceased its swaying, and the sparks in the branches went out. v. of the flaming ball, of the forge relit, and of the terrible great buffet which the man with the lantern gave to smetse's wife. smetse, greatly amazed, rubbed his eyes, thinking he was dreaming. suddenly shaking himself: "this devil," said he, "was he not making fun of me after all? have i verily gotten my good forge back again? i will go and see." having said this he started running in haste, and from far away saw a great light reddening the sky above the houses, and it seemed to him that the fire sending up this light was on the quai aux oignons; and he said to himself: "could that be my forge?" and he ran the faster. coming to the quay he found it lit up as if by a sun, from the paving-stones up to the tops of the trees which stood alongside, and he said to himself: "it is my forge." then he was seized and shaken with joy, his legs failed him, and his breath grew short; but he kept running as hard as he could, and coming at last to his house he saw his smithy wide open as in the daytime, and at the back of it a great bright fire. unable to contain himself at this sight he fell to dancing, leaping, and bursting out into laughter, crying: "i have my forge, my own forge! ghent is mine!" then he went in. inspecting, examining, touching everything, he saw at the sides, laid out in good order, iron of all kinds: armour-iron, iron bars, plough-iron. "by artevelde!" he said, "the devil was not lying!" and he took up a bar, and having made it red with the fire, which was done quickly, started beating it, making the hammer ring on the anvil like thunder, and crying: "ha, so i have my good tools back again, and hear once more this good music which has so long been silent!" and while he was wiping away a tear of joy, which gave an unaccustomed wetness to his eye, he saw on a chest near by a good pewter pot standing, and beside it a fine mug, and he filled up the mug several times and drank it down with relish: "ah," he said, "the good bruinbier, the drink which makes men! i had lost the taste for it! how good it is!" then he went back to hammering the iron bar. while he was making all this noise, he heard himself called by name, and looking to see whence the voice came he perceived his wife in the half-open door which led from the kitchen, thrusting through her head and looking at him with a startled face. "smetse," she said, "is it thou, my man?" "yes, wife," said he. "smetse," she said, "come close to me, i dare not set foot in this forge." "and why not, wife?" said he. "alas," she said, clinging to him and gazing into the forge, "wert thou alone there, my man?" "yes," said he. "ah," she said, "smetse, while you were away there were strange happenings!" "what happenings, wife?" "as i was lying in bed," she said, "suddenly the house trembled, and a flaming ball passed across our room, went out through the door, without hurting anything, down the stairs, and into the forge, where, bursting, as i suppose, it made a noise like a hundred thunder-claps. suddenly all the windows and doors were thrown open with a great clatter getting out of bed, i saw the quay all lit up, as it is now. then, thinking that our house was on fire, i came down in haste, went into the forge, saw the fire lit, and heard the bellows working noisily. in each corner the iron of different kinds arranged itself in place according to the work for which it was used; but i could see no hands moving it, though there must have been some for sure. i began to cry out in a fright, when suddenly i felt, as it were, a glove of hot leather pressed against my mouth and holding it shut, while a voice said: 'do not cry out, make no sound, if thou wilt not have thy husband burnt alive for the crime of sorcery.' nevertheless he who thus ordered me to keep silent made himself more noise than i should ever have dared, but by a miracle none of our neighbours heard it. as for me, my man, i had no more heart to make a sound, and i fled back hither into the kitchen, where i was praying to god when i heard thy voice, and dared to open the door a crack. oh, my man, since thou art here, explain, if thou can, all this tumult." "wife," answered smetse, "we must leave that to those more learned than ourselves. think only to obey the order of the voice: keep thy mouth shut, speak to no one of what thou hast seen to-night, and go back to thy bed, for it is still pitch-dark." "i go," she said, "but wilt thou not come also, my man?" "i cannot leave the forge," said he. while he was speaking thus there came towards them, one after another, a baker carrying new-baked bread, a grocer carrying cheeses, and a butcher carrying hams. smetse knew well enough that they were devils, from their white faces, hollow eyes, scorched hair, twisted fingers, and also from the fact that they walked with so little sound. his wife, amazed to see them coming into her house with all this food, would have stopped them, but they slipped between her hands like eels, and went into the kitchen, walking straight and silently. there, without a word spoken, the baker arranged his loaves in the pan, while the butcher and grocer put their cheeses and hams in the cool-of the cellar. and they finished their work, taking no notice of the smith's wife, who kept crying: "'tis not here you must bring these things; you have made a mistake, i tell you, my good men. go elsewhither." but they, notwithstanding her voice, arranged the loaves, meat, and cheeses quietly. this made the good woman more than ever put out, and she grew angry: "i tell you," she exclaimed, "you have made a mistake; do you not hear me? you have made a mistake, 'tis not here you should be; i say here, with us, in this place, in the house of smetse the beggar, who has not a farthing to his name, who will never pay you. alas, they will not listen to me!" and crying out at the top of her voice: "masters, you are at smetse's, do you not understand? smetse the beggar! do i not say it loud enough? jesus, lord, god! smetse the needy! smetse the ragged! smetse the starved! smetse who is rich in nothing but lice! who will pay you nothing: do you hear me? who will pay you nothing, nothing, nothing!" "wife," said the smith, "you are losing your head, my dear. 'tis i who sent for these good men." "thou!" said his wife, "thou! but thou art mad, my man; yes, he is mad, my masters, altogether mad. ah, 'tis thou who sent for them! 'tis thou who sendest for loaves, hams, and cheeses in this profusion, like a rich man, when thou knowest well enough we cannot pay for them, and so showest thy bad faith!" "wife," answered smetse quietly, "we are rich, and will pay for everything." "we rich?" she said, "ah, poor beggar-man. do i not know what is in our chest? hast ever put thy nose in to see, any more than in the bread-pan? art thou become the housewife? alas, my man is mad, god help us!" meanwhile the three men came back into the smithy. seeing them again, the wife ran to them: "master trades-men," said she, "you heard me well enough, for you are not deaf, i believe; we have nothing, we can pay you nothing; take back your provisions." but without looking at her, nor seeming to hear her, the three went off, walking stiff and silently. no sooner had they gone out than a brewer's cart drew up at the door, and the brewer's men came into the smithy carrying between them a great barrel full of bruinbier. "smetse," said his wife, "this is too much! master brewers, this is not for us; we do not like beer at all, we drink water. take this barrel to one of our neighbours, it is no concern of ours, i tell you." none the less the brewer's men took down the barrel of bruinbier into the cellar, came up again, and went out to fetch others, and placed them alongside the first to the number of twenty. the good wife, trying to stop them, was pushed aside, while smetse could not speak for laughing, and could only draw her to his side, and so prevent her from hurting herself on the barrels, which the men were carrying from street to cellar with marvellous speed and dispatch. "oh," she wailed, "let me be! this is too much, smetse! alas! now we are worse than beggars, we are debtors, smetse: i shall go and throw myself into the river, my man. to run up debts to fill a famished stomach, that is shame enough; but to do so from simple gluttony, that is unbearable deceit. canst thou not be content with bread and water got honestly with thy two hands? art thou then become such a delicate feeder that thou must have cakes, fine cheeses, and full barrels? smetse, smetse, that is not like a good man of ghent, but rather like a spanish rogue. oh, i shall go and drown myself, my man!" "wife," said smetse, troubled at seeing her in such distress, "do not weep. 'tis all ours, my dear, duly, and by right." "ah," she said moaning, "'tis an ill thing to lose in this wise in your old age that honesty which was your only crown." while the smith was endeavouring, but in vain, to console her, there entered a vintner followed by three-and-thirty porters, each carrying a basket full of bottles containing precious wines of great rarity, as was shown by the shape of those said bottles. when the good wife saw them she was overcome with despair, and her courage failed her: "come in," she said in a piteous voice, "come in, master vintners; the cellar is below. you have there a goodly number of bottles, six score for certain. that is none too much for us who are wealthy, wealthy of misery, vermin, and lice; come in, my masters, that is the door of the cellar. put them all there, and more besides if you will." and giving smetse a push: "thou art happy, no doubt," said she, "for 'tis a fine sight for a drunkard, such as thou art, to see all this good wine coming into the house without payment. ah, he laughs!" "yes, wife," said smetse, "i laugh with content, for the wines are ours, ours the meats, ours the loaves and cheeses. let us make merry over it together." and he tried to embrace her: but she, shaking herself free: "oh, oh," she said, "he runs up debts, he tells lies, he laughs at his shame: he has all the vices, none is wanting." "wife," said smetse, "all this is ours, i tell thee again. to this amount am i paid in advance for certain large orders which have been graciously given me." "art thou not lying?" said she, growing a little calmer. "no," said he. "all this is ours?" "yes," he said, "by the word of honour of a citizen of ghent." "ah, my man, then we are henceforward out of our trouble." "yes, wife," said he. "'tis a miracle from god." "alas," said he. "but these men come hither by night, against the usual custom, tell me the reason of that." "he who knows the reason for everything," said smetse, "is an evil prier. such a one am not i." "but," said she, "they speak never a word." "they do not like to talk," said smetse, "that is clear. or it may be that their master chose them dumb, so that they should not waste time chattering with housewives." "yes, that may be," she said, while the thirty-first porter was going past, "but 'tis very strange, i cannot hear their footfalls, my man?" "they have for certain," said smetse, "soles to suit their work." "but," she said, "their faces are so pale, sad, and motionless, that they seem like faces of the dead." "night-birds have never a good complexion," said smetse. "but," said his wife, "i have never seen these men among the guilds of ghent." "thou dost not know them all," said smetse. "that may be, my man." in this manner the smith and his wife held converse together, the one very curious and disturbed, the other confused and ashamed at his lies. suddenly, as the three-and-thirtieth porter of the master-vintner was going out of the door, there rushed in in great haste a man of middling height, dressed in a short black smock, pale-haired, large-headed, wan-faced, stepping delicately, quick as the wind, stiff as a poker; for the rest, smiling continually, and carrying a lantern. the man came up to smetse hurriedly, without speaking bade him follow, and seized him by the arm. when smetse hung back he made him a quick sign to have no fear, and led him into the garden, whither they were followed by the good wife. there he took a spade, gave his lantern to smetse to hold, dug in the earth rapidly and opened a great hole, pulled out of the hole a leathern bag, opened it quickly, and with a smile showed smetse and his wife that it was full of gold coin. the good wife cried out at the sight of the gold, whereupon he gave her a terrible great buffet in the face, smiled again, saluted, turned on his heel and went off with his lantern. the good wife, knocked down by the force of the blow, and quite dazed, dared not cry out again, and only moaned softly: "smetse, smetse," said she, "where art thou, my man? my cheek hurts me sorely." smetse went to her and picked her up, saying: "wife, let this buffet be a lesson to thee henceforward to control thy tongue better; thou hast disturbed with thy crying all the good men who have come here this night for my good; this last was less patient than the rest and punished thee, not without good reason." "ah," she said, "i did ill not to obey thee; what must i do now, my man?" "help me," said smetse, "to carry the bag into the house." "that i will," she said. having taken in the bag, not without some trouble, they emptied it into a coffer. "ah," she said, seeing the gold run out of the bag and spread itself this way and that, "'tis a fine sight. but who was this man who showed thee this sack with such kindness, and who gave me this terrible great blow?" "a friend of mine," said smetse, "a great discoverer of hidden treasure." "what is his name?" said she. "that," said smetse, "i am not allowed to tell thee." "but, my man..." "ah, wife, wife," said smetse, "thou wilt know too much. thy questioning will be thy death, my dear." "alas," said she. vi. wherein the wife of smetse shows the great length of her tongue. when the day was up, smetse and his wife sat down together to the good loaves, the fat ham, the fine cheese, the double bruinbier, and the good wines, and so eased their stomachs, hurt a little by being such a long while hungry. suddenly there came in all the old workmen, and they said: "baes smetse, thou didst send for us; here we are, right glad to see thy fire lit up again, and to work for thee who wast always so good a master." "by artevelde!" said smetse, "here they all are: pier, dolf, flipke, toon, hendrik, and the rest. good day, my lads!" and he gripped them by the hand, "we must drink." while they were drinking, his wife said suddenly with a toss of the head: "but no one sent for you all! is that not so, smetse?" "wife, wife," said the smith, "wilt thou never learn to hold thy tongue?" "but," said she, "i am speaking the truth, my man." "thou art speaking foolishly," said he, "of things whereof thou knowest nothing. stay in thy kitchen and do not come meddling in my forge." "baesine," said flipke, "without wishing to belie you, i must tell you that a message was sent to us in the name of the baes. for a man came in the middle of the night knocking on the doors of our houses, shouting out that we should all of us come hither without fail this morning for work of great urgency, and that for this we should each be given a royal as forfeit to our several masters. and we came, all of us, not wishing to leave our baes in the lurch." "'tis good of you," said smetse, "ye shall have the promised royal. but come with me, i will apportion to each of you the usual task." this he did, and once again the good music of sledges beating, anvils ringing, bellows blowing, and workmen singing was heard in the forge of the good smith. meanwhile smetse went to his wife and said to her with great heat: "dost think it a fine thing to gainsay me before these good men! chattering magpie, wilt never learn to hold thy tongue? hast not already to-night been admonished sharply enough? must thou have more telling?" "but, smetse," said his wife, "i did not know that you had sent for them." "that is no reason," he said, "why thou shouldst give me the lie before all my workmen; canst thou not leave thy speaking until i have done, or else hold thy tongue altogether, which would be better still." "smetse," said his wife, "i never saw you so angry before. do not beat me, my man, i will be henceforward as dumb as this cheese." "so you should," said smetse. "but, my man," said she, "canst not explain to me somewhat of all these happenings?" "sometime," he said, and went back into his smithy. vii. of smetse the rich. that day there came to smetse many persons, both notable and common, nobles, priests, burgesses, and peasants, to give him orders for much work, and so it went on again on other days, and all through the year. soon the smithy became too small, and smetse had to enlarge it by reason of the ever-growing numbers of his workmen. and the work which they did was so beautiful and so marvellously well done that the fame of it spread abroad to foreign and distant countries, and people came to see and admire it from holland, zeeland, spain, germany, england, and even from the land of the turk. but smetse, thinking of the seven years, was not happy at all. soon his coffers were full of fine crusats, angelots, rose nobles, and golden jewels. but he found no pleasure in looking at all this wealth, for he thought them poor payment for giving his soul to the devil for all the length of eternity. red slimbroek lost all his customers, who came back one by one to smetse. ragged and miserable he used to come every day and lounge on the quay, watching from there the bright fire glowing in the forge of the good smith, and, so standing, he seemed dazed and stupid, like an owl watching a doit. smetse, knowing that he was needy, sent him several customers to bring him some means of sustenance, and also more than once a gift of money. but although he thus repaid evil with good he was no longer happy, thinking of the seven years. smetse's wife, finding him so wealthy, bought for dinner each sunday legs of fat mutton, geese, capons, turkeys, and other good meats; invited to her table his relatives, friends, and workmen; and then there would be a great feast, well washed down with double bruinbier. but smetse, though he ate and drank like an emperor, was not at all happy, thinking of the seven years. and the steam from the roast meats spread abroad on the quai aux oignons, so fragrant and succulent, and so sweetening the air, that all the dogs wandering in the streets of the town would stop before the house and sniff at the smell, and there on their haunches, nose in air, would wait for crumbs: and the beggars, of whom there were great numbers, came thither likewise and tried to drive away the dogs. thereupon ensued furious battles, in which many were badly bitten. seeing this, smetse's wife and other women would come every sunday to the door with baskets of alms, and there, before the meal began, would give the beggars good bread, slices of meat, and two farthings to get themselves drink, and all this with soft words and fair speaking; then they charged them to go away from the quay, which they did in an orderly manner. but the dogs stayed behind, and at the end of the feast there was given to them likewise food of some sort. and then they would go off also, taking each his bone or other booty. smetse and his wife together took both dogs and men into their affection; to the beggars he gave food and shelter; and so also to all the dogs of ghent that were lame, infirm, or sickly, until at length his house came to be called the dogs' hospital and the home of the poor. nevertheless he was not at all happy, thinking of the seven years. worn and troubled with these thoughts, smetse stopped singing and lost his fat, shrivelled visibly, became melancholy and moody, and in his smithy said never a word, except to give a necessary order. and he was no longer called smetse the merry, but smetse the rich. and he counted the days. viii. how there came a ragged, wayfarer to smetse's door, and with him, on an ass, a sweet wife and a little child. on the two hundred and forty-fifth day of the seventh year, when the plum-trees were in bloom, smetse, dumb as a stone, was taking a little noonday rest. he sat on a wooden bench opposite his door, and with melancholy mien looked at the trees planted all along the quay, and the small birds playing among the branches or squabbling and pecking one another over some morsel of food, and blinked in the bright sun which made these birds so merry, and heard at his back the goodly sounds of his forge, his wife preparing dinner, and his workmen hurrying at their work so that they might be off to their meal, for it was nearing the time; and he said to himself that in hell he would see neither the sun, nor the birds, nor the trees with their load of green leaves, nor hear any more the sounds of his forge, nor the smiths hurrying, nor his good wife preparing dinner. by and by the workmen came out, and smetse was left sitting alone on his bench, pondering in his mind whether there were not some way whereby he might outwit the devil. suddenly there drew up at his door a man of piteous appearance, with brown hair and beard, dressed like a ragged townsman, and carrying a great staff in his hand. he was walking beside an ass, and leading it along by a rein. on the ass rode a sweet and beautiful young woman with a noble mien, suckling a little child, who was quite naked, and of such gentle and winsome countenance that the sight of it warmed smetse's heart. the ass stopped at the door of the smithy and began to bray loudly. "master smith," said the man, "our ass has cast one of his shoes on his way hither, wilt thou be pleased to give orders that another should be given him?" "i will do it myself," said smetse, "for i am alone here." "i should tell thee," said the man, "that we are beggars, without money." "have no care for that," said smetse, "i am rich enough to be able to shoe in silver without payment all the asses in flanders." hearing this the woman alighted from the ass and asked smetse if she might sit down on the bench. "yes," said he. and while he was fastening up the beast, paring his hoof and fitting the shoe, he said to the man: "whence come you, with this woman and this ass?" "we come," said the man, "from a distant country, and have still far to go." "and this child whom i see naked," said smetse, "does he not oftentimes suffer from the cold?" "nay," said the man, "for he is all warmth and all life." "well, well," said smetse, "you do not cry down your own children, master. but what is your meat and drink while you are travelling in this manner?" "water from streams," said the man, "and such bread as is given us." "ah," said smetse, "that is not much, i see, for the ass's panniers are light. you must often go hungry." "yes," said the man. "this," said smetse, "is displeasing to me, and it is most unwholesome for a nursing mother to suffer hunger, for so the milk turns sour, and the child grows in sickly wise." and he called out to his wife: "mother, bring hither as many loaves and hams as will fill the panniers of this beast. and do not forget some double bruinbier, 'tis heavenly comfort for poor travellers. and a good peck of oats for the ass." when the panniers were filled and the beast shod, the man said to smetse: "smith, it is in my mind to give thee some recompense for thy great goodness, for such as thou seest me i have great power." "yes," said smetse, with a smile, "i can see that well enough." "i am," said the man, "joseph, nominal husband of the very blessed virgin mary, who is sitting on this bench, and this child that she has in her arms is jesus, thy saviour." smetse, dumbfounded at these words, looked at the wayfarers with great astonishment, and saw about the man's head a nimbus of fire, a crown of stars about the woman's, and, about the child's, beautiful rays more brilliant than the sun, springing from his head and girdling him round with light. thereupon he fell at their feet and said: "my lord jesus, madam the virgin, and my master st. joseph, grant me pardon for my lack of understanding." to this st. joseph replied: "thou art an honest man, smetse, and righteous as well. for this reason i give thee leave to make three requests, the greatest thou canst think of, and my lord jesus will listen to them favourably." at these words smetse was filled with joy, for it seemed to him that in this way he might perhaps escape the devil; but at the same time he did not dare to avow that he had traded his soul away. so he remained in silence for a few moments, thinking of what things he could ask, then suddenly said, with great respect: "my lord jesus, madam st. mary, and you, master st. joseph, will you please to enter my dwelling? there i can tell you what boons i ask." "we will," said st. joseph. "mother," said smetse to his wife, "come hither and look to the ass of these noble lords." and smetse went in before them, sweeping the threshold so that there should be no dust to touch the soles of their feet. and he took them into his garden, where there was a fine plum-tree in full blossom. "my lord, madam, and sir," said smetse, "will it please you to order that whosoever shall climb up into this plum-tree shall not be able to come down again unless i so desire?" "it will," said st. joseph. thence he led the way into the kitchen, where there stood a great and precious arm-chair, well padded in the seat, and of enormous weight. "my lord, madam, and sir," said smetse, "will it please you that whosoever shall sit in this chair shall not be able to rise unless i so desire?" "it will," said st. joseph. then smetse fetched a sack, and, showing it to them, said: "my lord, madam, and sir, will it please you that, whatsoever his stature, man or devil shall be able to get into this sack, but not out again, unless i so desire?" "it will," said st. joseph. "my lord, madam, and sir," said smetse, "thanks be unto you. now that i have made my three requests i have naught else to ask of your goodness, save only your blessing." "we will give it," said st. joseph. and he blessed smetse, and thereafter the holy family went upon their way. ix. what smetse did in order to keep his secret. the good wife had heard nothing of what was said to her man by the celestial wayfarers, and she was amazed to see the behaviour and hear the speech of the good smith. but she was more so than ever when, on the departure of the all-powerful visitors, smetse began to give forth bursts of laughter, to rub his hands, take hold of her, thump her on the chest, twist her this way and that, and say in a triumphant tone: "it may be, after all, that i shall not burn, that i shall not roast, that i shall not be eaten! art not glad of it?" "alas," she said, "i cannot understand what you are talking about, my man; have you gone mad?" "wife," said smetse, "do not show me the whites of thine eyes in this pitiful manner, 'tis no time for that. canst not see how light my heart has grown? 'tis because i have got rid of a burden on my shoulders heavier than the belfry itself; i say this belfry, our own, with the dragon taken from that of bruges. and i am not to be eaten. by artevelde! my legs bestir themselves of their own accord at the thought of it. i dance! wilt not do likewise? fie, moody one, brewing melancholy when her man is so happy! kiss me, wife, kiss me, mother, for my proficiat; and so thou shouldst, for instead of despair i have found a good and steadfast hope. they think to roast me with sauces and feast off my flesh to their fill. i will have the laugh of them. dance, wife, dance!" "ah, smetse," said she, "you should take a purge, my man; they say 'tis good for madness." "thou," he said, tapping her on the shoulder with great affection and tenderness, "talkest boldly." "hark," said she, "to the good doctor preaching reason to me! but wert thou mad or not, smetse, doffing thy bonnet as thou did to those beggars who came hither sowing their lice; giving to me, thy wife, their ass to hold; filling their hampers with our best bread, bruinbier, and ham; falling on thy knees before them to have their blessing, and treating them like archdukes, with a torrent of my lords, sirs, and madams." at these words smetse saw well enough that the lordly wayfarers had not wished to discover themselves to any but he. "wife," he said, "thou must not question me further, for i can tell thee nothing of this mystic happening, which it is not given thee to understand." "alas," said she, "then 'tis worse than madness, 'tis mystery. thou dost ill to hide thyself from me in this wise, smetse, for i have always lived in thy house, faithful to thee only, cherishing thine honour, husbanding thy wealth, neither lending nor borrowing, holding my tongue in the company of other wives, considering thy secrets as mine own and never breathing a word of them to any one." "i know it," said smetse, "thou hast been a good and true wife." "then why," said she, "knowing this, hast thou not more faith in me? ah, my man, it hurts me; tell me the secret, i shall know how to keep it, i promise thee." "wife," said he, "knowing nothing thou wilt be able to hold thy tongue the more easily." "smetse," said she, "wilt thou verily tell me nothing?" "i cannot," said he. "alas," said she. by and by the workmen came back, and smetse gave each of them a good royal to get themselves drink. whereat they were all so merry, and felt themselves so rich, that for three days none of them put his nose into the smithy, save one old man who was too withered, stiff, short of breath, and unsteady on his legs to go swimming with the others in the lys, and afterwards drying in the sun among the tall grasses, dancing in the meadows to the music of rebecks, bagpipes, and cymbals, and at night in the tavern emptying pots and draining glasses. x. of the bloody councillor. at length the day came on which the good smith was due to hand over his soul to the devil, for the seventh year had run out, and plums were once again ripe. at nightfall, when certain workmen were busy on a grating for the franciscan brothers which was to be done that night, and had stayed behind with smetse for that purpose, there came into the forge an evil-looking fellow, with greasy white hair, a rope round his neck, his jaw dropped, his tongue hanging out, and dressed in an ill-found habit like a nobleman's servant fallen on evil days. this fellow, without being heard by any one there as he walked across the floor, came quickly up to smetse and put his hand on his shoulder. "smetse," he said, "hast packed thy bundle?" hearing this the smith swung round. "packed," he said, "and how does my packing concern thee, master bald-pate?" "smetse," replied the fellow in a harsh voice, "hast forgotten thy restored fortunes, and the good times thou hast enjoyed, and the black paper?" "no, no," said smetse, doffing his bonnet with great humility, "i have not forgotten; pardon me, my lord, i could not call to mind your gracious countenance. will you be pleased to come into my kitchen, and try a slice of fat ham, taste a pot of good bruinbier, and sip a bottle of wine? we have time enough for that, for the seven years are not yet struck, but want, if i am not mistaken, still two hours." "that is true," said the devil; "then let us go into thy kitchen." so they entered in and sat down to the table. the good wife was greatly astonished to see them come in. smetse said to her: "bring us wine, bruinbier, ham, sausages, bread, cakes, and cheeses, and the best of each that we have in the house." "but, smetse," said she, "you waste the good things which god has given you. 'tis well to come to the help of poor folk, but not to do more for one than another. beggar-men are beggar-men, all are equal!" "beggar-men!" exclaimed the devil, "that i am not and never was. death to the beggar-men! to the gallows with the beggar-men!" "my lord," said smetse, "i beg you not to be angry with my good wife, who knows you not at all. wife, consider and look at our guest with great attention, but greater respect, and afterwards thou mayest tell thy gossips that thou hast seen my lord jacob hessels, the greatest reaper of heretics that ever was. "ah, wife, he mowed them down grandly, and had so many of them hanged, burnt, and tortured in divers ways, that he could drown himself a hundred times in the blood of his dead. go, wife, go and fetch him meat and drink." while he was munching, smetse said: "ah, my lord, i soon recognized you by your particular way of saying: 'to the gallows!' and also by this rope which finished off your life in so evil a manner. for our lord said: 'whoso liveth by the rope shall perish by the rope.' my lord ryhove was harsh and treacherous toward you, for besides taking your life he took also your beard, which was a fine one. "ah, that was an evil trick to play on so good a councillor as you were in those days when you slept so quietly and peaceably in the bloody council--i should say the council of civil disorders, speaking respectfully--and woke up only to say: 'to the gallows!' and then went to sleep again." "yes," said the devil, "those were good times." "so they were," said smetse, "times of riches and power for you, my lord. ah, we owe you a great deal: the tithe tax, dropped by you into the ear of the emperor charles; the arrest of my lords of egmont and hoorn, whereof the warrant was written in your own fair hand, and of more than two thousand persons who perished at your command by fire, steel, and rope!" "i do not know the number," said the devil, "but it is large. give me, smetse, some more of this sausage, which is excellent." "ah," said the smith, "'tis not good enough for your lordship. but you are drinking nothing. empty this tankard, 'tis double bruinbier." "smith," said the devil, "it is good also, but i tasted better at pierkyn's tavern one day when five girls of the reformed faith were burnt together in the market-place. that frothed better. while we were drinking we heard these five maids singing psalms in the fire. ah, we drank well that day! but think, smetse, of the great perversity of those maids, all young and strong, and so fast set in their crimes that they sang their psalms without complaint, smiling at the fire and invoking god in a heretical fashion. give me more to drink, smetse." "but," said smetse, "king philip asked for your canonization at rome, for having served spain and the pope so well; why then are you not in paradise, my lord?" "alas," wept the devil, "i had no recognition of my former services. those traitors of reformers are with god, while i burn in the bottom of the pit. and there, without rest or respite, i have to sing heretical psalms; cruel punishment, unspeakable torment! these chants stick in my throat, scrape up and down in my breast, tearing my inner flesh like a bristling porcupine with iron spines. at every note a new wound, a bleeding sore: and always, always i have to keep singing, and so it will go on through all the length of eternity." at these words smetse was very much frightened, thinking how heavily god had punished jacob hessels. "drink, my lord," he said to him; "this bruinbier is balm to sore throttles." suddenly the clock struck. "come, smetse," said the devil, "'tis the hour." but the good smith, without answering, heaved a great sigh. "what ails thee?" said the devil. "ah," said smetse, "i am grieved at your incontinence. have i welcomed you so ill that you will not let me go, before i leave here, to embrace my wife a last time and bid farewell to my good workmen, and to take one more look at my good plum-tree whose fruits are so rich and juicy? ah, i would gladly refresh myself with one or two before i go off to that land where there is always thirst." "do not think to escape me," said the devil. "that i would not, my lord," said smetse. "come with me, i pray you most humbly." "very well," said the devil, "but not for long." in the garden smetse began to sigh afresh. "ah," he said, "look at my plums, my lord; will you be pleased to let me go up and eat my fill?" "go up then," said the devil. up in the tree smetse began to eat in a most greedy manner, and suck in the juice of the plums with a great noise. "ah," cried he, "plums of paradise, christian plums, how fat you are! princely plums, you would solace a hundred devils burning in the lowest parts of hell. by you, sweet plums, blessed plums, is thirst driven out of my throat; by you, adorable plums, gentle plums, is purged from my stomach all evil melancholy; by you, fresh plums, sugary plums, is diffused in my blood an infinite sweetness. ah, juicy plums, joyous plums, faery plums, would that i could go on sucking you for ever!" and while he was saying all this, smetse went on picking them, eating them and sipping the juice, without ever stopping. "pox!" said the devil, "it makes my mouth water; why dost not throw me down some of these marvellous plums?" "alas, my lord," said smetse, "that i cannot do; they would melt into water on their fall, so delicate are they. but if you will be pleased to climb up into the tree you will find much pleasure in store for you." "then i will," said the devil. when he was well settled on a stout branch and there regaling himself with plums, smetse slipped down, picked up a stick lying on the grass and fell to belabouring him with great vigour. feeling the stick on his back the devil would have leapt down on the smith, but could not move, for the skin of his seat held fast to the branch. and he snorted, ground his teeth, and foamed at the mouth with great rage, and also by reason of the pain which his tender skin caused him. meanwhile smetse gave him a good drubbing, caressed with his stick every quarter of his body in turn, bruised him to the bone, tore his habit, and gave him as strong and straight a beating as was ever given in the land of flanders. and he kept saying: "you say not a word about my plums, my lord; they are good, none the less." "ah," cried hessels, "why am i not free!" "alas, yes! why are you not free!" answered smetse, "you would give me to some little butcher among your friends who would cut me up freely into slices like a ham, under your learned instruction, for you are, as i know well, a doctor of torment. but are you not being well tormented in turn by my stick? alas, yes! why are you not free! you would hoist me up on some blessed gallows, and every one would see me hanging in the air, and freely would master hessels laugh. and so he would have his revenge on me for this excellent drubbing which i am giving him with such freedom. for nothing in this world is so free as a free stick falling freely on an unfree councillor. alas, yes! why are you not free! you would free my head from my body, as you did with such satisfaction to my masters of egmont and hoorn. alas, yes! why are you not free! then we should see smetse in some good little fire, which would roast him freely, as was done to the poor maids of the reformed faith; and smetse, like them, would be heard singing with a free soul to the god of free believers, and with a free conscience stronger than the flame, while master hessels drank bruinbier and said that it frothed nicely." "oh," said the devil, "why beat me so cruelly, without pity for my white hairs?" "as for thy white hair," said smetse, "'tis the hair of an old tiger who ate up our country. for this reason it gives me sweet pleasure to beat thee with this oaken stick; and also in order that thou mayst give me permission to stay another seven years on this earth, where i find myself so well content, if it so please thee." "seven years!" said the devil, "do not count on that; i would rather bleed under thy stick." "ah," said smetse, "i see that your skin is fond of good blows. these are tasty ones, it is true. but the best of cheer is unwholesome if taken in excess. so when you have had enough of them, be so good as to tell me. i will put a stop to this feast, but for that i must have the seven years." "never," said hessels; and lifting his snout into the air like a baying dog, he cried out: "devils to the rescue!" but this he did so loudly, and in such screeching wise, that at the sound of his cracked voice blaring out like a trumpet, all the workmen came to see what it was about. "you do not shout loud enough," said smetse, "i will help you." and he beat him the harder, so that the devil cried the louder. "see," said smetse, "how well this stick makes the little nightingale sing in my plum-tree. he is saying over his lied of love to call hither his fair mate. she will come by and by, my lord; but come down, i pray you, and await her below, for they say that the night dew is deadly at a height from the ground." "baes," said certain workmen, "is it not my lord jacob hessels, the bloody councillor, who is perched up there in thy plum-tree?" "yes, lads," answered smetse, "'tis indeed that worthy man. he seeks high places now as he did all his life, and so also at the end of it, when he swung in the air, putting out his tongue at the passers-by. for that which is of the gallows returns to the gallows, and the rope will take back its own. 'tis written." "baes," said they, "can we not help to bring him down?" "yes," said he. and the workmen went off to the smithy. meanwhile the devil said nothing, trying all the time to get his seat away from the branch. and he struggled, wriggled about, twisted himself a hundred different ways, and used as levers, to lift himself up, feet, hands, and head, but all in vain. and smetse, belabouring him well, said to him: "my lord councillor, you are fast stuck, it seems, to the saddle; but i will have you out of it, have you out as fast as i can, for if i do not so, beating you with all my strength, you will tear up out of the ground the tree and its roots, and the good folk will see you walking along, dragging a plum-tree from your seat like a tail, which would be a piteous and laughable spectacle for such a noble devil as yourself to make. give me rather the seven years." "baes," said the workmen, who had returned from the smithy with hammers and iron bars, "here we are at your orders; what shall we do?" "well," said smetse, "since i have combed him down with oaken staves we will now louse him with hammers and bars." "mercy, smetse, mercy!" cried the devil; hammers and bars, this is too much; thou hast the seven years, smith." "make haste," said smetse, "and write me the quittance." "here it is," said he. the smith took it, saw that it was in good order, and said: "i desire that thou come down." but the devil was so weak and enfeebled by the blows he had had that when he tried to leap he fell on his back. and he went off limping, shaking his fist at smetse, and saying: "i await thee, in seven years, in hell, smith." "so you may," said smetse. xi. wherein the workmen hold fair speech with smetse. while the devil was making off, smetse, watching his workmen, saw that they were looking at one another strangely, spoke together in low voices, and seemed awkward in their manner, like people who would speak out, but dare not. and he said to himself: "are they going to denounce me to the priests?" suddenly flipke the bear came up to him. "baes," said he, "we know well enough that this ghost of hessels was sent to thee by him who is lord below; thou hast made a pact with the devil and art rich only by his money. we have guessed as much for some time. but so that thou should not be vexed, none of us have spoken of it in the town, and none will so speak. we would tell thee this to put thy mind at rest. and so now, baes, good night and quiet sleep to thee." "thank you, lads," said smetse, greatly softened. and they went their several ways. xii. how that smetse would not give his secret into his wife's tongue's keeping. in the kitchen smetse found his wife on her knees beating her breast, weeping, sighing, sobbing, and saying: "jesus lord god, he has made a pact with the devil; but 'tis not with my consent, i swear. and you also, madam the virgin, you know it, and you also, all my masters the saints. ah, i am indeed wretched, not on my own account, but for my poor man, who for the sake of some miserable gold sold his soul to the devil! alas, yes, sell it he did! ah, my saintly masters, who are yourselves so happy and in such glory, pray the very good god for him, and deign to consider that if, as i dare hope, i die a christian death and go to paradise, i shall be all alone there, eating my rice pudding with silver spoons, while my poor man is burning in hell, crying out in thirst and hunger, and i not able to give him either meat or drink.... alas, that will make me so unhappy! ah, my good masters the saints, madam the virgin, my lord jesus, he sinned but this once, and was all the rest of his life a good man, a good christian, kind to the poor and soft of heart. save him from the fires which burn for ever, and do not separate above those who were so long united below. pray for him, pray for me, alas!" "wife," said smetse, "thou art very wretched, it seems." "ah, wicked man," said she, "now i know all. 'twas hell fire which came bursting into the house and lit up the forge; those master-bakers, brewers, and vintners were devils, all of them, and devil also that ugly man who showed thee the treasure and gave me so grievous a buffet. who will dare to live peaceably in this house from now on? alas, our food is the devil's, our drink also; devil's meat, loaves, and cheeses, devil's money, house, and all. whoever should dig under this dwelling would see the fires of hell gush out incontinent. there are all the devils, i see them above, below, on the right hand, on the left, awaiting their prey with dropped jaws, like tigers. ah, what a fine sight 'twill be to see my poor man torn into a hundred pieces by all these devils, and that in seven years, for he said, as i heard well enough, that he would come back in seven years." "weep not, wife," said smetse, "in seven years i may again be master as i was to-day." "but," said she, "if he had not gone up into the plum-tree, what wouldst thou have done, poor beggar-man? and what if he will not let himself fall a second time into thy snare as he did to-day?" "wife," said smetse, "he will so fall, for my snares are from heaven, and the things which are from god can always get the better of devils." "art not lying again?" she said. "and wilt tell me what they are?" "that i cannot," said he, "for devils have sharp ears and would hear me telling thee, no matter how low i spoke; and then i should be taken off to hell without mercy." "ah," said she, "then i will not ask, though 'tis not pleasant for me to live here in ignorance of everything, like a stranger. nevertheless i would rather have thee silent and saved than talking and damned." "wife," he said, "thou art wise when thou speakest so." "i will pray," she said, "every day for thy deliverance, and have a good mass said for thee at st. bavon." "but," said he, "is it with devil's money thou wilt pay for this mass?" "have no care for that," said she, "when this money enters the church coffers 'twill become suddenly holy." "do as thou wilt, wife," said smetse. "ah," said she, "my lord jesus shall have a stout candle each day, and madam the virgin likewise." "do not forget my master st. joseph," said smetse, "for we owe him much." xiii. of the bloody duke. the end of the seventh year came again in its turn, and on the last evening there crossed the threshold of smetse smee's dwelling a man with a sharp and haughty spanish face, a nose like a hawk's beak, hard and staring eyes, and a white beard, long and pointed. for the rest he was dressed in armour finely worked and most richly gilt; decorated with the illustrious order of the fleece; wore a fine red sash; rested his left hand on the hilt of his sword, and held in his right the seven years' pact and a marshal's wand. coming into the forge he walked straight towards smetse, holding his head loftily and without deigning to notice any of the workmen. the smith was standing in a corner, wondering how he could make the devil who was sent for him sit down in the arm-chair, when flipke ran quickly up to him and said in his ear: "baes, the bloody duke is coming, take care!" "woe!" said smetse, speaking to himself, "'tis all up with me, if d'alva has come to fetch me." meanwhile the devil approached the smith, showed him the pact, and took him by the arm without a word to lead him off. "my lord," said smetse in a most sorrowful manner, "whither would you take me? to hell. i follow you. 'tis too great honour for one so mean as i to be ordered by so noble a devil as yourself. but is it yet the appointed time? i think it is not, and your highness has too upright a soul to take me off before the time written in the deed. in the meantime i beg your highness to be seated: flipke, a chair for my lord; the best in my poor dwelling, the large, well-padded arm-chair which stands in my kitchen, beside the press, near the chimney, beneath the picture of my master st. joseph. wipe it well, lad, so that no dust may be left on it; and quick, for the noble duke is standing." flipke ran into the kitchen and came back, saying: "baes, i cannot lift that arm-chair alone, 'tis so heavy." then smetse feigned great anger and said to his workmen: "do ye not hear? he cannot lift it alone. go and help him, and if it takes ten of you let ten go. and quick now. fie! the blockheads, can ye 'not see that the noble duke is standing?" nine workmen ran to obey him and brought the chair into the forge, though not without difficulty. smetse said: "put it there, behind my lord. is there any dust on it? by artevelde! they have not touched this corner. i will do it myself. now 'tis as clean as new-washed glass. will your highness deign to be seated?" this the devil did, and then looked round him with great haughtiness and disdain. but of a sudden the smith fell at his feet, and said with mocking laughter: "sir duke, you see before you the most humble of your servants, a poor man living like a christian, serving god, honouring princes, and anxious, if such is your lordly pleasure, to continue in this way of life seven years more." "thou shalt not have one minute," said the devil, "come, fleming, come with me." and he tried to rise from the chair, but could not. and while he was struggling with might and main, making a thousand vain efforts, the good smith cried joyously: "would your highness get up? ah, 'tis too soon! let your highness wait, he is not yet rested after his long journey; long, i make bold to say, for it must be a good hundred leagues from hell to my smithy, and that is a long way for such noble feet, by dusty roads. ah, my lord, let yourself rest a little in this good chair. nevertheless, if you are in great haste to be off, grant me the seven years and i will give you in return your noble leave and a full flask of spanish wine." "i care nothing for thy wine," answered the devil. "baes," said flipke, "offer him blood, he will drink then." "my lad," said smetse, "thou knowest well enough we have no such thing as blood in our cellars hereabouts, for that is no flemish drink, but one that we leave to spain. therefore his highness must be so good as to excuse me. nevertheless, i think he is thirsty, not for blood, but for blows, and of those i will give him his illustrious fill, since he will not grant me the seven years." "smith," said the devil, looking at smetse with great contempt, "thou wouldst not dare beat me, i think?" "yes, my lord," said the good man. "you would have me dead. for my part i hold to my skin, and this not without good reason, for it has always been faithful to me and well fastened. would it not be a criminal act to break off in this sudden fashion so close a partnership? and besides, you would take me off with you to hell, where the air is filled with the stench of the divers cookeries for damned souls which are set up there. ah, rather than go thither i would beat your highness for seven years." "fleming," said the devil, "thou speakest without respect." "yes, my lord," said smetse, "but i will hit you with veneration." and so saying he gave him with his clenched fist a terrible great blow on the nose, whereat the devil seemed astonished, dazed, and angry, like a powerful king struck by a low-born servant. and he tried to leap upon the smith, clenched his fists, ground his teeth, and shot out blood from his nose, his mouth, his eyes, and his ears, so angry was he. "ah," said smetse, "you seem angry, my lord. but deign to consider that since you will not listen to my words, i must speak to you by blows. by this argument am i not doing my best to soften your heart to my piteous case? alas, deign to consider that my humble fist is making its supplication as best it can to your illustrious eyes, begs seven years from your noble nose, implores them from your ducal jaw. do not these respectful taps tell your lordly cheeks how happy, joyous, and well-liking i should be during those seven years? ah, let yourself be convinced. but, i see, i must speak to you in another fashion, with the words of iron bars, the prayers of tongs, and the supplications of sledge-hammers. lads," said the smith to his workmen, "will you be pleased to hold converse with my lord?" "yes, baes," said they. and together with smetse they chose their tools. but it was the oldest who picked the heaviest ones, and were the hottest with rage, because it was they who in former days had lost, through the duke's doing, many friends and relatives by steel, by stake, and by live burial, and they cried: "god is on our side, he has delivered the enemy into our hands. out upon the bloody duke, the master-butcher, the lord of the axe!" and all of them, young and old, cursed the devil with a thunder of cries; and they came up to him menacingly, surrounding the chair and raising their tools to strike. but smetse stopped them and spoke again to the devil. "if your highness," he said, "is minded to hold to his noble bones, let him deign to grant me the seven years, for the time for laughter is past, let me tell you." "baes," said the workmen, "whence comes to thee this kindness beyond measure? why hold so long and fair parley with this fellow? let us first break him up, and then he will offer thee the seven years of his own accord." "seven years!" said the devil, "seven years! he shall not have so much as the shadow of a minute. strike, men of ghent, the lion is in the net; ye who could not find a hole deep enough to hide yourselves in when he was free and showed his fangs. flemish cowards, see what i think of you and your threats." and he spat on them. at this spittle the bars, hammers, and other tools fell on him thick as hail, breaking his bones and the plates of his armour, and smetse and his workmen said as they beat to their hearts' content: "cowards were we, who wished to worship god in the sincerity of our hearts; valiant was he who prevented us with steel, stake, and live burial. "cowards were we for having always laughed readily and drunk joyously, like men who, having done what they had to do, make light of the rest: valiant was this dark personage when he had poor men of the people arrested in the midst of their merrymaking at kermis-time and put death where had been laughter. "cowards were the eighteen thousand eight hundred persons who died for the glory of god; cowards those numberless others who by the rapine, brutality and insolence of the fighting men, lost their lives in these lands and others. valiant was he who ordained their sufferings, and more valiant still when he celebrated his own evil deeds by a banquet. "cowards were we always, we who, after a battle, treated our prisoners like brothers; valiant was he who, after the defeat in friesland, had his own men slaughtered. "cowards were we, who laboured without ceasing, spreading abroad over the whole world the work of our hands; valiant was he when, under the cloak of religion, he slew the richer among us without distinction between romans and reformers, and robbed us by pillage and extortion of thirty-six million florins. for the world is turned upside down; cowardly is the busy bee who makes the honey, and valiant the idle drone who steals it away. spit, noble duke, on these flemish cowards." but the duke could neither spit nor cough, for from the roughness of the blows they had given him he had altogether lost the shape of a man, so mingled and beaten together were bones, flesh, and steel. but there was no blood to be seen, which was a marvellous thing. suddenly, while the workmen, wearied with beating, were taking breath, a weak voice came out from this hotch-potch of bones, flesh, and steel, saying: "thou hast the seven years, smetse." "very well then, my lord," said he, "sign the quittance." this the devil did. "and now," said smetse, "will your highness please to get up." at these words, by great marvel, the devil regained his shape. but while he was walking away, holding up his head with great haughtiness and not deigning to look at his feet, he tripped over a sledge lying on the ground, and fell on his nose with great indignity, thereby giving much occasion for laughter to the workmen, who did not fail to make use of it. picking himself up he threatened them with his fist, but they burst out laughing more loudly than ever. he came at them, grinding his teeth; they hooted him. he tried to strike with his sword a short and sturdy little workman; but the man seized the sword from his hands and broke it in three pieces. he struck another in the face with his fist, but the man gave him so good and valiant a kick as to send him sprawling on the quay with his legs in the air. there, flushing with shame, he melted into red smoke, like a vapour of blood, and the workmen heard a thousand joyous and merry voices, saying: "beaten is the bloody duke, shamed is the lord of the axe, inglorious the prince of butchers! vlaenderland tot eeuwigheid! flanders for ever!" and a thousand pairs of hands beat applause all together. and the dawn broke. xiv. of the great fears and pains of smetse's wife. smetse, going to look for his wife, found her in the kitchen on her knees before the picture of st. joseph. "well, mother," said he, "what didst think of our dance? was it not a merry one? ah, henceforth they will call our house the house of beaten devils." "yes," said his wife, wagging her head, "yes, and also the house of smetse who was carried away to hell. for that is where thou wilt go; i know it, i feel it, i foretell it. this devil's coming all accoutred for war presages evil. he will come back, no longer alone, but with a hundred thousand devils armed like himself. ah, my poor man! they will carry lances, swords, pikes, hooked axes, and arquebuses. they will drag behind them canon which they will fire at us; and everything will be ground to pieces, thou, i, the smithy, and the workmen. alas, everything will be levelled to the ground! and where our smithy now stands will be nothing but a sorry heap of dust. and the folk walking past along the quay will say when they see this dust: 'there lies the house of smetse, the fool who sold his soul to the devil.' and i, after dying in this fashion, shall go to paradise, as i dare to hope. but thee, my man, oh, woe unspeakable! they will take away with them and drag through fire, smoke, brimstone, pitch, boiling oil, to that terrible place where those are punished who, wishing to break a pact made with the devil, have no special help from god or his holy saints. poor little man, my good comrade, dost know what there is in store for thee? ho, a gulf as deep as the heavens are high, and studded all down its terrible sides with jutting points of rock, iron spikes, horrid spears, and a thousand dreadful pikes. and dost know what manner of gulf this is, my man? 'tis a gulf wherein a man may keep falling always--dost understand me, always, always--gashed by the rocks, cut about by the spears, torn open by the pikes, always, always, down all the long length of eternity." "but, wife," said smetse, "hast ever seen this gulf whereof thou speakest?" "nay," said she, "but i know what manner of place it is, for i have often heard tell of it in the church of st. bavon. and the good canon predicant would not lie." "ah, no," said smetse. xv. of the bloody king. when the last night of the seventh year was come smetse was in his smithy, looking at the enchanted sack, and asking himself with much anxiety how he could make the devil get into it. while he was wondering, the smithy suddenly became filled with an evil stench of the most putrid, offensive and filthy kind. innumerable lice swarmed over the threshold, ceiling, anvils, sledges, bars and bellows, smetse and his men, who were all as if blinded, for these lice were as thick in the smithy as smoke, cloud, or fog. and a melancholy but imperative voice spoke, saying: "smetse, come with me; the seven years have struck." and smetse and his workmen, looking as well as they could in the direction whence the voice came, saw a man coming towards them with a royal crown on his head, and on his back a cloak of cloth-of-gold. but beneath the cloak the man was naked, and on his breast were four great abscesses, which formed together a single wide sore, and from this came the stench which filled the smithy, and the clouds of lice which swarmed round about. and he had on his right leg another abscess, more filthy, rank, and offensive than the rest. the man himself was white-faced, auburn-haired, red-bearded, with lips a little drawn, and mouth open somewhat. in his grey eyes were melancholy, envy, dissimulation, hypocrisy, harshness, and evil rancour. when the older workmen saw him they cried out in a voice like thunder: "smetse, the bloody king is here, take care!" "silence," cried the smith, "peace there, silence and veneration! let every man doff his bonnet to the greatest king that ever lived, philip ii by name, king of castile, leon, and aragon, count of flanders, duke of burgundy and brabant, palatine of holland and zeeland, most illustrious of all illustrious princes, great among the great, victorious among victors. sire," said he to the devil, "you do me unparalleled honour to come hither in person to lead me to hell, but my humble ghentish lowness makes bold to suggest to your royal and palatine highness that the appointed hour has not yet struck. therefore if it pleases your majesty i will pass on earth the brief time which is still left to me to live." "i allow it," said the devil. meanwhile smetse seemed unable to take his eyes off the devil, and showed himself very sorrowful and heavy, nodding his head, and saying several times: "alas, alas! cruel torment! evil hour!" "what ails thee?" said the devil. "sire," said smetse, "nothing ails me but the great sorrow which i have at seeing how harsh god has been towards you, leaving you to bear in hell the malady whereof you died. ah, 'tis a most pitiful sight to see so great a king as you consumed by these lice and eaten up with these abscesses." "i care nothing for thy pity," answered the king. "sire," said smetse further, "deign to think no evil of my words. i have never been taught fine ways of speech; but notwithstanding this i make bold to sympathize with your illustrious sufferings, and this the more in that i myself have known and suffered your ill, and you can still see, sire, the terrible marks on my skin." and smetse, uncovering his breast, showed the marks of the wounds which he had received from the traitor spanish when he sailed the seas with the men of zeeland. "but," said the devil-king, "thou seemest well enough cured, smith! wast thou verily as sick as i?" "like you, sire," said smetse, "i was nothing but a heap of living filth; like you i was fetid, rank, and offensive, and every one fled from me as they fled from you; like you i was eaten up with lice; but what could not be done for you by the most illustrious doctor olias of madrid, a humble carpenter did for me." at these words the devil-king cocked his ear. "in what place," said he, "does this carpenter dwell, and what is his name?" "he dwells," said smetse, "in the heavens, and his name is master st. joseph." "and did this great saint appear to thee by especial miracle?" "yes, sire." "and by virtue of what didst thou merit this rare and blessed favour?" "sire," answered smetse, "i have never by my own virtue merited so much as the shadow of a single grain of particular grace, but in my sufferings i prayed humbly and with faith to my blessed patron, master st. joseph, and he deigned to come to my succour." "tell me of this happening, smith." "sire," said smetse, holding up the sack, "this was my remedy." "this sack?" asked the devil. "yes, sire; but will your majesty deign to look closely at the hemp whereof it is woven. do you not think its quality altogether strange! alas," said smetse, running on with his talk, and appearing to go into an ecstasy, "'tis not given to us poor men to see every day such hemp as this. for this is not earthly hemp, but hemp of heaven, hemp from the good paradise, sown by my master st. joseph round about the tree of life, harvested and woven under his especial orders to make sacks wherein the beans are stored which my masters the angels eat on fast-days." "but," asked the devil, "how did this sack come into thy hands?" "ah, sire, by great marvel. one night i was in my bed, suffering twenty deaths from my ulcers, and almost at the point of giving up my soul. i saw my good wife weeping; i heard my neighbours and workmen, of whom there were many, saying round about my bed the prayers for the dying; my body was overcome with pain and my soul with despair. nevertheless i kept praying to my blessed patron and swore that if he brought me out of that pass, i would burn to his honour in the church of st. bavon such a candle as the fat of twenty sheep would not suffice to make. and my prayers were not in vain, sire, for suddenly a hole opened in the ceiling above my head, a living flame and a celestial perfume filled the room, a sack came down through the hole, a man clothed in white followed the sack, walked in the air to my bed, pulled down the sheets which covered me, and in the twinkling of an eye put me in the sack and drew the strings tight round my neck. and then, behold the miracle! no sooner was i wrapped about with this good hemp than a genial warmth passed through me, my ulcers dried up, and the lice all perished suddenly with a terrible noise. after that the man told me with a smile about the hemp of heaven and the angelic beans, and finished his discourse by saying: 'keep safe this remedy, 'tis sent thee by my master st. joseph. whosoever shall use it shall be cured of all ills and saved for all eternity, if in the meantime he do not sell his soul to the devil!' then the man went away. and what the good messenger told me was true, for by means of this sack from heaven, i cured toon, my workman, of the king's evil; pier of fever, dolf of scurvy, hendrik of the phlegm, and a score of others who owe it to me that they are still alive." when smetse had finished his speech the devil-king seemed lost in deep reflection, then suddenly lifted his eyes to heaven, joined his hands, crossed himself again and again, and, falling to his knees, beat upon his breast, and with most lamentable cries prayed as here follows: "ah, my master st. joseph, sweet lord, blessed saint, immaculate husband of the virgin without stain, you have deigned to make whole this smith, and he would have been saved by you for all eternity had he not sold his soul to the devil. but i, master, i, a poor king, who pray to you, do you disdain to make me whole also, and to save me as you would have saved him? you know well, sweet lord, how i devoted my life, my person, my goods and those of my subjects to the defence of our blessed religion; how i hated, as is right, the freedom to believe other things than those which are ordained for us; how i combated it by steel, stake, and live burial; how i saved in this wise from the venom of reform brabant, flanders, artois, hainault, valenciennes, lille, douai, orchies, namur, tournai, tournaisie, malines, and my other lands. nevertheless i have been thrown into the fires of hell, and there suffer without respite the unutterable torment of my consuming ulcers and my devouring vermin. ah, will you not make me whole, will you not save me? you are able, my master. yes, you will perform again for the sorrowing king the miracle which saved the smith. then shall i be able to pass into paradise, blessing and glorifying your name through centuries and centuries. save me, master st. joseph, save me. amen." and the devil-king, crossing himself, beating his breast, and babbling paternosters turn by turn, rose to his feet and said to smetse: "put me in the sack, smith." this smetse did gladly, rolled him into the sack, leaving only his head thrust out, drew tight round his neck the stout cords, and placed the devil on an anvil. at this spectacle the workmen burst out laughing, clapping their hands together, and saying a hundred merry things to one another. "smith," asked the devil, "are these flemings laughing at me?" "yes, sire." "what are they saying, smith?" "oh, sire, they are saying that horses are caught by means of corn; dogs by liver; asses by thistles; hogs by swill; trout by curdled blood; carp by cheese; pike by gudgeon; and a humbug of your kidney by tales of false miracles." "ho, the traitor smith," howled the devil, grinding his teeth, "he has taken in vain the name of my master st. joseph, he has lied without shame." "yes, sire." "and thou wilt dare to beat me as thou didst jacob hessels and my faithful duke?" "even more heartily, sire. nevertheless 'tis only if you so wish it. you shall be set free if you please. free if you give me back the deed; beaten if you are fixed in your idea of carrying me off to hell." "give thee back the deed! "roared the devil, "i would rather suffer a thousand deaths in a single moment." "sire king," said smetse, "i pray you to think of your bones, which seem to me none too sound as it is. consider also that the opportunity is a good one for us to avenge on your person our poor flanders, so drenched in blood at your hands. but it displeases me to pass a second time where has passed already the wrath of the very just god. so give me back the deed; grace, sire king, or 'twill begin raining presently." "grace!" said the devil, "grace to a fleming! perish flanders rather! ah, why have i not again, one single day, as much power, armies, and riches as i will; flanders would give up her soul quickly. then famine should reign in the land, parching the soil, drying up the water-springs and the life of plants; the last ghostly inhabitants of the empty towns would wander like phantoms in the streets, killing one another in heaps to find a little rotten food; bands of famished dogs would snatch newborn children from their mothers' withered breasts and devour them; famine should lie where had been plenty, dust where had been towns, crows where had been men; and on this earth stripped naked, stony, and desolate, on this burial-ground, i would set up a black cross with this inscription: here lies flanders the heretic, philip of spain passed over her breast!" so saying the devil foamed at the mouth with wrath, but scarce were his last words cold from his lips when all the hammers and bars in the smithy fell on him at once. and smetse and his workmen, striking in turn, said: "this is for our broken charters and our privileges violated despite thine oath, for thou wast perjurer. "this is for that when we called thee thou didst not dare come into our land, where thy presence would have cooled the hottest heads, for thou wast coward. "this is for the innocent marquess of berg-op-zoom, whom thou poisoned in prison, so that his inheritance might be thine; and for the prince of ascoly, whom thou madest to marry dona eufrasia, in child by thy seed, so that his wealth might enrich the bastard that was coming. the prince died also, like so many others, for thou wert poisoner of bodies. "this is for the false witnesses paid by thee, and thy promise to ennoble whomever would kill prince william for money, for thou wast poisoner of souls." and the blows fell heavy, and the king's crown was knocked off, and his body, like the duke's, was no more than a hotch-potch of bones and flesh, without any blood. but the workmen went on with their hammering, saying: "this is for thine invention of the tourniquet, wherewith thou didst strangle montigny, friend of thy son, for thou wast seeker of new tortures. "this is for the duke of alva, for the counts of egmont and hoorn, for all our poor dead, for our merchants who went off to enrich england and germany, for thou wast death and ruin to our land. "this is for thy wife, who died by thy deed, for thou wast husband without love. "this is for thy poor son charles, who died without any sickness, for thou wast father without bowels. "this is for the hatred, cruelty, and slaughter with which thou didst make return for the gentleness, confidence, and goodwill of our land, for thou wast king without justice. "and this is for the emperor, thy father, who, with his execrable proclamations and edicts, first sounded for our land the stroke of the evil hour. give him a good drubbing on our account, and tell us thou wilt give back the deed to the baes." "yes," wept a melancholy voice, coming from the heap of bones and flesh, "thou hast everything, smetse, thou art free." "give me back the parchment," said smetse. "open the sack," answered the voice. "ho," cried smetse, "yes, yes, indeed, i will open the sack wide, and master philip will leap out and take me off to hell with all speed. oh, the good little devil! but 'tis not now the time for such high pranks. therefore i make bold to beg your majesty to give me first the parchment, which he may without difficulty pass up through this gap which is between his neck and the edge of the sacking." "i will not do it," said the devil. "that," said smetse, "is as it pleases your subtle majesty. in the sack he is, in the sack he may remain; i make no objection. every man his own humour. but mine will be to leave him in his sack, and in this wise carry him off to middelburg in walcheren, and there ask the prefect that leave be given me to build a good little stone box in the market-place and therein to place your majesty, leaving outside his melancholy countenance. so placed he will be able to see at a close view the happiness, joy, and prosperity of the men of the reformed faith: that will be a fine treat for him, which might be added to, on feast-days and market-days, by an unkind blow or two which people would give him in the face, or some wicked strokes with a stick, or some spittle dropped on him without respect. you will have besides, sire, the unutterable satisfaction of seeing many good pilgrims from flanders, brabant, and your other blood-soaked countries come to middelburg to pay back with good coin of their staves their old debt to your most merciful majesty." "ah," said the devil, "i will not have this shame put upon me. take, smith, take the parchment." smetse obeyed, and saw that it was indeed his own, then went and dipped it in holy water, where it turned into dust. at this he was filled with joy and opened the sack for the devil, whose bones moved and became joined again to one another. and he took on again his withered shape, his hungry vermin, and his devouring sores. then, covering himself with his cloak of cloth-of-gold, he went out of the smithy, while smetse cried after him: "good journey to you, and a following wind, master philip!" and on the quay the devil kicked against a stone, which opened of itself and showed a great hole, wherein he was swallowed suddenly up like an oyster. xvi. wherein smetse beholds on the river lys a most marvellous sight. when the devil had gone smetse was almost off his head with joy, and ran to his wife, who had come to the door of the kitchen, and thumped her for joy, seized her, kissed her, hugged the good woman, shook her, pressed her to him, ran back to his men, shook them all by the hand, crying: "by artevelde! i am quits, smetse is quits!" and he seemed to have a tongue for nothing else but that he was quits! and he blew in his wife's ear, into his workmen's faces, and under the nose of a bald and wheezing old cat who sat up in one corner and got quit with him by a scratch in the face. "the rascal," said smetse, "does not seem glad enough at my deliverance. is he another devil, think you? they say they disguise themselves in every kind of shape. ho," said he to the cat, who was arching her back in annoyance, "hast heard, listened, and understood, devil cat? i am quit and free, quit and franked, quit and happy, quit and rich! and i have made fools of all the devils. and from now on i will live gaily as becomes a quit smith. wife, i will send this very day a hundred philipdalers to slimbroek, so that that poor sinner may also rejoice at smetse's quittance." but his wife said nothing, and when smetse went to look for her he found her on the stair with a great bowl of holy water in her hands, in which she was dipping a fair sprig of palm branch. coming into the smithy she began to sprinkle with the palm her man and the workmen, and also the hammers, anvils, bellows, and other tools. "wife," said smetse, trying to escape the wetting, "what art thou at?" "i am saving thee," said she, "presumptuous smith. dost verily think that, being freed of devils, thou hast for thine own the chattels that come from them? dost think that though they have lost the soul which was to be their payment they will leave thee thy riches. ho, the good fool! they will come back again, yes; and if i do not sprinkle thee with this holy water, and myself likewise, and all these good men, who knows with what evils they may not torment us, alas!" and the good wife was working away with her palm-branch when suddenly a great thunder rumbled under the earth, shaking the quay, and the stones cracked, the panes shivered in the windows, all the doors and casements in the smithy opened of themselves, and a hot wind blew. "ah," said she, "they are coming; pray, my man!" and suddenly there appeared in the sky the figure of a man, naked and of marvellous beauty. he was standing in a chariot of diamond, drawn by four flaming horses. and he held in his right hand a banner, whereon was written: "more beautiful than god." and from the body of this man, whereof the flesh shone brightly, came golden rays which lit up the lys, the quay and the trees like sunlight. and the trees began to sway and swing their stems and branches, and all the quay seemed to roll like a ship upon the sea, and thousands of voices called out together: "lord, we cry hunger and thirst; lord, feed us; lord, give us to drink." "ah," said the good wife, "here is my lord lucifer and all his devils!" and when the voices had ceased the man made a sign with his hand, and of a sudden the waters of the lys rose as if god had lifted up the river-bed. and the river became like a rough sea; but the waves did not roll on the quay, but each lifted separately, bearing on its crest a foam of fire. then each of these flames rose into the air, drawing up the water like a pillar, and there seemed to poor smetse and his wife and the men to be hundreds of thousands of these pillars of water, swaying and foaming. then each pillar took on the form of a fearful animal, and suddenly there appeared, mingled together, striking and wounding one another, all the devils whose work was to torment poor damned souls. there were to be seen, crawling over crooked and shivering men's legs, monstrous crabs, devouring those who were servile in their lives. near these crabs were ostriches bigger than horses, who ran along flapping their wings. under their tails they had laurel-wreaths, sceptres, and crowns, and behind their tails were made to run those men who in our world spent all their time running after vain honours, without a care for doing good. and the ostriches went quicker than the wind, while the men ran without respite behind them in the effort to get the wreaths, crowns, and sceptres; but they could never reach them. in this way they were led to a treacherous pond full of loathsome mud, wherein they fell shamefully and stayed stuck for all eternity, whilst the mocking ostriches walked up and down on the bank dangling their bawbles. among the ostriches were squadrons of many-coloured apes, diapered like butterflies, whose concern was with miserly jewish and lombard usurers. these men, when they entered hell, looked round them carefully, screwing up their eyes under their spectacles, collected from the ground divers rusty nails, old breeches, filthy rags, buttons showing the wood, and other old stuff, then dug a hole hastily, hid their treasures in it and went off to sit down some way away. the apes, seeing this, would leap on the hole, empty out its content, and throw it into the fire. then the misers would weep, make lamentations, and be beaten by the apes, and at last go off to find some more secret place, hide there once again their new depredations, and see once again the hole emptied and the apes coming once again to beat them, and so on for all eternity. in the air, above the apes, soared eagles, who had, instead of a beak, four-and-twenty matchlock barrels firing together. these eagles were called royal, because their concern was with conqueror princes, who were too fond in their lifetime of the sounds of war and cannon. and for their punishment these matchlocks were fired off in their faces again and again throughout eternity. besides the ostriches, apes, and eagles, reared up a great serpent with a bear's coat, who writhed and twisted this way and that. he was of great length and breadth, beyond all measure, and had a hundred thousand hairy arms, in each of which he held an iron pike as sharp as a razor. he was called the spaniards' serpent, because in hell it was his task to gash about with his pikes without mercy all the bands of traitor pillagers who had despoiled our good country. keeping clear of this serpent with great prudence, darted about mischievous little winged pigs whose tails were eels. these tails were designed for the perpetual teazing of such gluttons as came to hell. for the pig would come up to such a one, hold the eel close to his mouth, and, when he tried to bite it, suddenly fly away from him, and so on throughout eternity. there were to be seen also, marching up and down in their gorgeous feathers, monstrous peacocks. whenever some vain dandy came their way, giving himself airs in his fine clothes, one of these peacocks would go to him and spread its tail, as if inviting him to pluck out a fine feather for his bonnet. but as soon as the dandy approached to take his feather, master peacock would let fly in his face with filthy and evil-smelling water, which spoilt all his fine clothes. and throughout eternity the dandy would try to get the feather, and throughout eternity be so swilled down. among these fearful animals, wandered two by two male and female grasshoppers as big as a man, the one playing on a pipe, and the other brandishing a great knotted stick. whenever they saw a man who, in his lifetime, leapt, by cowardice, from good to evil, from black to white, from fire to water, always on the side of the strongest, these grasshoppers would go to him, and one would play the pipe, while the other, leaning on his stick with great dignity, would say: "leap for god," and the man would leap; "leap for the devil," and the man would leap again; "leap for calvin, leap for the mass, leap for the goat, leap for the cabbage," and the man would keep leaping. but he never leapt high enough for the liking of the grasshopper with the stick, and so he was each time belaboured in a most pitiless manner. and he leapt without ceasing and was belaboured without respite, while the pipe made continual pleasant music, and so on throughout eternity. farther on, naked and lying on cloths of gold, silk, and velvet, covered with pearls and a thousand resplendent gems, more beautiful than the most beautiful ladies of ghent, brussels, or bruges, lascivious and smiling, singing, and playing on sweet instruments, were the wives of the devils. these dealt out punishment to old rakes, corrupters of youth and beauty. to them these she-devils would call out amorously, but they could never get near them. throughout eternity these poor rakes had to look at them without being able to touch them even with the tip of the nail of their little finger. and they wept and made lamentation, but all in vain, and so on through centuries and centuries. there were also mischievous little devils with drums, made of the skins of hypocrites, whose masks hung down over the drum case as ornament. and the hypocrites to whom they belonged, without their skins, without their masks, in all their ugliness, ashamed, hooted, hissed, spat at, eaten up by horrible flies, and followed by the little devils beating their drums, had to wander up and down hell throughout eternity. it was good to see also the devils of conceited men. these were fine great leathern bottles full of wind, finished off with a beak, at the end of which was a reed. these bottles had eagle's feet and two good little arms, with fingers long enough to go round the widest part of the bottle. when the conceited man came into hell, saying: "i am great, i am grand, strong, beautiful, victorious, i will overcome lucifer and marry his dam astarte," the leathern bottles would come up to him and say, with a deep reverence: "my lord, will you be pleased to let us speak a word to you in secret, touching your high designs?" "yes," he would say. then two bottles would stuff their reeds into his ears in such a manner that he could not get them out again, and begin to press in their bellies with their long fingers, so as to force wind into his head, which thereupon swelled up, large and always larger, and master self-conceit rose into the air and went off to wander throughout eternity, with his head bumping the ceiling of hell, and his legs waving in the air in the efforts to get down again; but all in vain. marvellous devils were certain apes of quicksilver, always running, tumbling, leaping, coming, and going. these devils bore down on the lazy fellows who were thrown to them, gave them a spade to dig earth with, a sword to polish, a tree to trim, or a book to con. the lazybones would look at the task set him, saying: "to-morrow," and would stretch his arms, scratching and yawning. but as soon as he had his mouth wide open the ape would stuff into it a sponge soaked in quintessence of rhubarb. "this," he would say mockingly, "is for to-day; work, slug, work." then, while the lazybones was retching, the devil would thump him, shake him a hundred different ways, giving him no more peace than a gadfly gives a horse, and so on throughout eternity. pleasing devils were pretty little children very wide-awake and mischievous, whose concern was to teach learned orators to think, speak, weep, and laugh according to common nature. and when they did otherwise the little devils would rap them sharply on the knuckles. but the poor pedants could no longer learn, being too heavy, old, and stupid; so they had a rap on the knuckles every day and a whipping on sundays. and all these devils cried out together: "master, we are hungry; master, give us to eat, pay somewhat for the good services we render thee." and suddenly the man in the chariot made a sign, and the good river lys threw all these devils on the quay, as the sea splashes on the shore, and they hissed loud and terribly at landing. and smetse, his wife, and the workmen heard the doors of the cellars open with a loud noise, and all the casks of bruinbier came hissing up the stairs, and hissing across the floor of the forge, and still hissing described a curve in the air and fell among the crowd of all the devils. and so also did the bottles of wine, so also the hams, loaves, and cheeses, and so also the good crusats, angelots, philipdalers, and other moneys, which were all changed into meat and drink. and the devils fell over one another, fought, scrambled, wounded themselves, forming only one great mass of battling monsters, howling and hissing, and each trying to get more than the others. when there was left neither drop nor crumb, the man in the chariot made another sign, and all the devils melted into black water and flowed into the river, where they disappeared. and the man vanished from the sky. and smetse smee was as poor as before, save for one little bag of golden royals, which his wife had by chance sprinkled with holy water, and which he kept, although it came from the devil. but this, as you shall see, did not profit him at all. and he lived with great content until he died suddenly one day in his smithy, at the great and blessed age of ninety-three years. xvii. of hell, of purgatory, of the long ladder, and finally of paradise. when he was dead his soul had to pass through hell in the guise of a smith. coming thither he saw, through the open windows, the devils which had so frightened him in the vision on the lys, and who were now busy torturing and tormenting the poor damned souls as terribly as they could. and smetse went to the doorkeeper; but the doorkeeper, on seeing him, howled out in a most awful fashion: "smetse is here, smetse smee the traitor smith!" and he would not let him in. hearing the hubbub, my lord lucifer, madam astarte, and all their court came to the windows, and all the other devils after them. and they all cried out in fear: "shut the doors, 'tis the enchanted smetse, smetse the traitor smith, smetse the beater of poor devils. if he comes in here he will overset, spoil, break up everything. begone, smetse!" "my masters," said smetse, "if i do indeed come hither to look at your snouts, which are not beautiful i promise ye, 'tis not at all for my pleasure; and besides, i am not by any means anxious to come in. so do not make such a noise, master devils." "yes, indeed, my fine smith," answered madam astarte, "thou showest a velvet pad now, but when thou art within thou wilt show thy claws and thine evil intention, and will slay us all, me, my good husband, and all our friends. be off, smetse; be off, smee." "madam," said smetse, "you are indeed the most beautiful she-devil i ever saw, but that is, nevertheless, no reason why you should think so ill of a fellow-creature's intentions." "hark to the fellow!" said madam astarte, "how he hides his wickedness under sugared words! drive him away, devils, but do him no great harm." "madam," said smetse, "i beg you to listen." "be off, smith!" cried out all the devils; and they threw burning coals at him, and whatever else they could find. and smetse ran off as fast as his legs would take him. when he had travelled some way he came before purgatory. on the other side was a ladder, with this inscription at its foot: "this is the road to the good paradise." and smetse, filled with joy, began to climb the ladder, which was made of golden thread, with here and there a sharp point sticking out, in virtue of that saying of god which tells us: "broad is the way which leadeth to hell, strait and rough the way to heaven." and, indeed, smetse soon had his feet sore. nevertheless, he made his way upward without halting, and only stopped when he had counted ten hundred thousand rungs and could see no more of either earth or hell. and he became thirsty. finding nothing to drink he became a little sullen, when suddenly he saw a little cloud coming past, and drank it up joyfully. it did not indeed seem to him as good drink as bruinbier, but he took consolation from the thought that it is not possible to have comforts everywhere alike. a little higher up the ladder he suddenly had hard work to keep his bonnet on his head, by reason of a treacherous autumn wind which was going down to earth to pull off the last leaves. and by this wind he was sorely shaken, and nearly lost his hold. after he was out of this pass he became hungry, and regretted the good earthly beef, smoked over pine-cones, which is so good a food for poor wayfarers. but he took heart, thinking that it is not given to man to understand everything. suddenly he saw an eagle of terrible aspect coming upon him from the earth. thinking for certain that he was some fat sheep, the eagle rose above him and would have dropped on him like a cannon-ball; but the good smith had no fear, bent to one side and caught the bird by the neck, which he wrung subtly. then, still going up, he hastened to pluck it, ate morsels of it raw, and found them stringy. nevertheless, he took this meat with patience, because he had no other. then, patiently and bravely, he climbed for several days and several nights, seeing nothing but the blue of the sky and innumerable suns, moons, and stars above his head, under his feet, to right, to left, and everywhere. and he seemed to be in the midst of a fair great globe, whereof the inner walls had been painted this fair blue, strewn with all these suns, moons, and stars. and he was frightened by the great silence and by the immensity. suddenly he felt a genial warmth, heard sweet voices singing, distant music, and the sound of a city toiling. and he saw a town of infinite size girt about with walls, over which he could see housetops, trees, and towers. and he felt that he was moving more quickly despite his own legs, and by and by, leaving the last rung behind, he set foot before the gate of the town. "by artevelde!" said he, "here is the good paradise." and he knocked on the gate; st. peter came to open to him. smetse was somewhat frightened at the gigantic appearance of the good saint, his great head of hair, his red beard, his large face, his high forehead, and his piercing eyes, with which he looked at him fixedly. "who art thou?" quoth he. "master st. peter," said the smith, "i am smetse smee, who in his lifetime lived at ghent on the quai aux oignons, and now prays you to let him enter your good paradise." "no," said st. peter. "ah, my master!" said smetse most piteously, "if 'tis because in my lifetime i sold my soul to the devil, i make bold to tell you that i repented most heartily, and was redeemed from his power and kept nothing that was his." "excepting a sackful of royals," said the saint, "and on that account thou shalt not come in." "master," said the smith, "i am not so guilty as you suppose; the sack stayed in my house because it had been blessed, and for that reason i thought i might well keep it. but take pity on me, for i knew not what i was doing. i pray you also to deign to consider that i come from a far country, that i am greatly tired, and would gladly rest in this good paradise." "be off, smith," said the saint, who was holding the door a crack open. meanwhile smetse had slipped through the opening, and taking off his leathern apron sat down, saying: "master, i am here rightfully, you cannot turn me out." but st. peter bade a troop of halberdier angels who were near at hand drive him away: and this the halberdier angels did with great dispatch. thereafter, smetse did not cease to beat on the door with his fists, and lamented, wept, and cried out: "master, have pity on me, let me in, my master; i repent of all the sins i have committed, and even the others as well. master, grant me permission to enter the blessed paradise. master...." but master st. peter, hearing this, put his head over the wall: "smith," said he, "if thou wilt persist in this uproar, i shall have thee sent to purgatory." and poor smetse held his peace, and sat down on his seat, and so passed sad days, watching others enter. in this wise a week went by, during which he lived on a few scraps of bread which were thrown to him over the wall, and on grapes gathered from a sour vine which grew on the outer face of the wall of paradise in this part. and smetse was most unhappy, leading this idle existence. and he sought in his head for some work or other which would gladden him somewhat. having found it, he shouted as loud as he could, and st. peter put his head over the wall. "what wilt thou, smetse?" said he. "master," answered the smith, "will you be pleased to let me go down to earth for one night, so that i may see my good wife and look to my affairs?" "thou mayst, smetse," answered st. peter. xviii. wherein it is seen why smetse was whipped. it was then all saints' eve; bitter was the cold, and smetse's good wife was in her kitchen, brewing some good mixture of sugar, yolk of egg, and bruinbier, to cure her of an evil catarrh, which had lain upon her ever since her man died. smetse came and knocked at the window of the kitchen, whereat his wife was greatly frightened. and she cried out sadly: "do not come and torment me, my man, if 'tis prayers thou wilt have. i say as many as i can, but i will say more if need be. wilt thou have masses said? thou shalt have them, and prayers and indulgences likewise. i will buy them, my man, i promise thee; but go back quickly whence thou camest." nevertheless smetse went on knocking. "'tis not masses or prayers," said he, "that i want, but shelter, food, and drink, for bitter is the cold, rude the wind, sharp the frost. open, wife." but she, on hearing him speak thus, prayed the more and cried out the louder, and beat her breast and crossed herself, but made no move to open the door, saying only: "go back, go back, my man; thou shalt have prayers and masses." suddenly the smith discerned an open window in the attic. he climbed up and entered the house by that means, went down the stair, and, opening the door, appeared before his wife; but as she kept drawing back before him as he advanced, crying out and calling the neighbours at the top of her voice, smetse stood still so as not to frighten her further, sat down on a stool, and said: "dost not see, mother, that i am indeed smetse, and wish thee no harm?" but his wife would listen to nothing and crept back into a corner. thence with her teeth a-chatter, and her eyes open wide, she made a sign to him to leave her, for she could no longer find her tongue, by reason of her great fear. "wife," said the smith in friendly tones, "is it thus that thou givest greeting and welcome to thy poor husband, after the long time he has been away? alas, hast forgot our old comradeship and union?" hearing this soft and joyous voice she answered in a low tone and with great timidity: "no, dead master." "well then," said he, "why art thou so afraid? dost not know thy man's fat face, his round paunch, and the voice which in former days sang so readily hereabout?" "yes," she said, "i know thee well enough." and why," said he, "if thou knowest me, wilt not come to me and touch me?" "ah," said she, "i dare not, master, for 'tis said that whatever member touches a dead man is itself dead." "come, wife," said the smith, "and do not believe all these lying tales." "smetse," said she, "will you in good truth do me no hurt?" "none," said he, and took her by the hand. "ah," she said suddenly, "my poor man, thou art cold and hungry and thirsty indeed!" "yes," said he. "well then," said she, "eat, drink, and warm thyself." while smetse was eating and drinking he told his wife how he had been forbidden the door to paradise, and how he designed to take from the cellar a full cask of bruinbier and bottles of french wine, to sell to those who went into the holy city, so that he might be well paid, and with the money he received buy himself better food. "this, my man," she said, "is all very well, but will master st. peter give thee permission to set up at the gates of paradise such a tavern?" "of that," he said, "i have hope." and smetse, laden with his cask and bottles, went his way back, up towards the good paradise. having reached the foot of the wall he set up his tavern in the open air, for the weather is mild in this heavenly land, and on the first day all who went in drank at smetse's stall, and paid him well out of compassion. but one or two became drunk, and entering paradise in this state, set master peter inquiring into the cause of it; and having found it out he enjoined smetse to stop his selling, and had him whipped grievously. xix. of the fair judgment of my lord jesus. not long afterwards the good wife died also, by reason of the terror that had seized hold of her at the sight of her man's ghost. and her soul went straight towards paradise, and there she saw, sitting with his seat against the wall, the poor smetse in a fit of melancholy brooding. when he saw her he jumped up with great joy, and said: "wife, i will go in with thee." "dost thou dare?" said she. "i will hide myself," said he, "under thy skirt, which is wide enough for us both, and so i shall pass without being seen." when he had done this she knocked on the door, and master st. peter came to open it. "come in," he said, "good wife." but seeing smetse's feet below the hem of the skirt: "this wicked smith," he cried, "will he always be making fun of me? be off, devil-baggage!" "ah, my master," said she, "have pity on him, or else let me stay out, too, to keep him company." "no," said master st. peter, "thy place is here, his is outside. come in then, and let him be off at once." and the good wife went in while smetse stayed outside. but as soon as the noonday hour came, and the angel cooks had brought the good wife her beautiful rice pudding, she went to the wall and put her head over it. "art thou there," she said, "my man?" "yes," said he. "art thou hungry?" she said. "yes," said he. "well then," she said, "spread thy leathern apron; i will throw thee the pudding which has just been given me." "but thou," said he, "wilt thou eat nothing?" "no," said she, "for i have heard it said that there is supper by and by." smetse ate the rice pudding, and was suddenly filled with comfort, for the pudding was more succulent and delicious than the finest meats of the earth. meanwhile his wife went off to walk about in the good paradise, and afterwards came back to smetse to tell him what she had seen. "ah," she said, "my man, 'tis a most beautiful place. would that i could see thee within! round about my lord jesus are the pure intelligences who discuss with him whatever is goodness, love, justice, knowledge, and beauty, and also the best means of governing men and making them happy. their speech is like music. and all the while they keep throwing down to earth the seeds of beautiful, good, just and true thoughts. but men are so wicked and stupid that they tread underfoot these fair seeds or let them wither away. farther on, established in their several places, are potters and goldsmiths, masons, painters, tanners and fullers, carpenters and shipbuilders, and thou shouldst see what fine work they do, each in his own trade. and when they have made some progress they cast down the seed of that also towards the earth, but 'tis lost oftentimes." "wife," said smetse, "didst see no smiths?" "yes," said she. "alas," said he, "i would gladly be working alongside them, for i am ashamed to be sitting here like a leper, doing nothing and begging my bread. but listen, wife; since master st. peter will not let me in, go thou and ask grace for me from my lord jesus, who is kind and will let me in for certain." "i go, my man," said she. my lord jesus, who was in council with his doctors, saw her coming towards him. "i know thee, good wife," said he; "thou wast in thy lifetime wedded to smetse the smith, who entreated me so well when, in the guise of a little child, i came down to earth with master joseph and madam mary. is he not in paradise, thy good man?" "alas, no, my lord!" answered she, "my man is at the door, most sad and out of heart, because master st. peter will not let him in." "why is that?" said my lord jesus. "ah, i cannot tell," said she. but the angel who writes down the faults of men in a record of brass, speaking suddenly, said: "smetse cannot enter paradise, for smetse, delivered from the devil, kept devil's money." "ah," said my lord jesus, "that is a great sin; but has he not repented of it?" "yes," said the good wife, "he has repented, and, moreover, he has been all his life good, charitable, and compassionate." "go and find him," said my lord jesus, "i will question him myself." two or three halberdier angels ran to obey him, and brought smetse before the son of god, who spoke in this wise: "smetse, is it true that thou didst keep devil's money?" "yes, my lord," answered the smith, whose knees were knocking together with fear. "smetse, this is not good, for a man should rather suffer every ill, pain, and anguish, than keep the money of one who is wicked, ugly, unjust, and a liar, as is the devil. but hast thou no meritorious deed to tell me, to mitigate this great sin?" "my lord," answered smetse, "i fought a long while beside the men of zeeland for freedom of conscience, and, doing this, suffered with them hunger and thirst." "this is good, smetse, but didst thou persist in this fair conduct?" "alas, no, my lord!" said the smith, "for, to tell truth, my courage lacked constancy, and i went back to ghent, where, like so many another, i came under the spanish yoke." "this is bad, smetse," answered my lord jesus. "my lord," wept the good wife, "none was more generous than he to the poor, kind to every one, charitable to his enemies, even to the wicked slimbroek." "this is good, smetse," said my lord jesus; "but hast thou no other merit in thy favour?" "my lord," said the smith, "i have always laboured with a good heart, hated idleness and melancholy, loved joy and merriment, sung gladly, and drunk with thankfulness the bruinbier which came to me from you." "this is good, smetse, but it is not enough." "my lord," answered the smith, "i thrashed as soundly as i could the wicked ghosts of jacob hessels, the duke of alva, and philip ii, king of spain." "smetse," said my lord jesus, "this is very good. i grant thee leave to enter my paradise." uniform with "flemish legends" the legend of tyl ulenspiegel by charles de coster translated by geoffrey whitworth. with 20 woodcuts by albert delstanche. 7s. 6d. net some press opinions "tyl ulenspiegel is not yet, in most english households, an old friend. yet we believe that the fellow will soon make his brave and humorous way into the friendship of old and young. and the twenty full-page woodcuts with which m. albert delstanche has illustrated this edition will help the friendship on. all the heartiness, the ruggedness, the fun, and the gloom of one tragic period in the history of a homely and much-enduring people are expressed through the eye to the mind by m. delstanche's knowledge and skill."--the times. "an excellent translation has brought a notable example of modern belgian literature within the reach of readers in this country. taking as his central figure the scampish tyl ulenspiegel, already in the sixteenth century a traditional personage, de coster produced a remarkable reconstruction of flemish life in the days of spanish oppression and of the famous 'beggars'."--scotsman. "on the large scale, the obvious work of a master, a man who knew sorrow but who loved to share the mirth and good living of his fellows, mocked impostors wherever he found them, and had a hatred of cruelty and injustice that is like lightning. it is one of the rare books, full of sad laughter and warm understanding, of the order of 'don quixote'."--the nation. "it is a happy thought which has brought out mr. geoffrey whitworth's version of 'the legend of tyl ulenspiegel' now ... for the description of it as the 'national epic of flanders' has much more meaning than such phrases usually have.... and all the adventures of tyl and his friends have this quality of reality in fairy-land, whether they are grotesque or tragic. the book has tragedy in it to balance its boisterous comedy, but the two are combined in a style whose generosity and exuberance make their union complete and satisfactory. it is a great book indeed. mr. whitworth is to be congratulated on his excellently easy and vivid translation; and the woodcuts of m. albert delstanche are all exceedingly impressive and many exceedingly beautiful."--land and water. "it is hardly too much to say that de coster's book is a work of pure genius.... at such a moment as the present no publication could be more timely than this english version of what will inevitably rank as a great epic of belgian nationality.... for the rest, we have only to compliment the publishers, the translator, and the illustrator upon their joint efforts to present a fine work in a worthy and acceptable form."--the guardian. "the illustrator's bold and luminous drawings certainly catch the bluff spirit of charles de coster's quaint masterpiece, in which the transition-age between mediævalism and modernity lives again so grimly, so shrewdly, so humorously. here there is a suitable gift-book for all who love to travel in the highways of world-literature."--morning post. "it is, of course, for adults and not for children, with its grim horrors and its full-blooded jollity. what we have learnt to call the soul of a people is in it--the spirit of flanders. the force of de coster's style loses nothing in mr. geoffrey whitworth's translation, and there are admirable illustrations cut on the wood by m. albert delstanche."--daily telegraph. "a most remarkable volume."--glasgow herald. "reading it for the first time in mr. whitworth's admirable english version, one is amazed at first that it has not been rendered previously. de coster will never require another english version, and this one book of 'glorious adventures' is aureole enough to ensure his place on the great hierarchy of literature."--the bookman. note [1] his biography has been written by charles potvin. charles de coster; sa biographie. weissenbruch; brussels. 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 by edward neville vose illustrated boston the page company mdccccxv copyright, 1915, by the page company all rights reserved first impression, april, 1915 the colonial press c. h. simonds company, boston, u. s. a. to 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 bibliography allen, grant: belgium: its cities. altmeyer: des causes de la décadence du comptoir hanséatique de bruges. armstrong, edward: emperor charles v. balau, s.: soixante-dix ans d'histoire contemporaine de belgique. boulger, demetrius c.: belgian life in town and country. -belgium of the belgians. -the history of belgium. bumpus, t. f.: cathedrals and churches of belgium. charriant, h.: la belgique moderne. christyn, j. b.: les délices des pays-bas. conscience, henri (or hendryk): de kerels van vlaanderen (the lion of flanders). -many of the other works of this great flemish author have been translated into english, french or german. conway: early flemish artists. crowe, sir j. a. and cavalcaselle, c. b.: the early flemish painters, notices of their lives and work. de flou, charles: promenades dans bruges. delepierre, octave: annales de bruges. -chasse de ste. ursule. -histoire de charles le bon. -histoire de marie de bourgogne. -galerie des artistes brugeois. -old flanders, or popular traditions and legends of belgium. -sketch of the history of flemish literature. destrée, j. and van den ven, p.: tapisseries des musées royaux du cinquantenaire à bruxelles. destrée, oliver georges: the renaissance of sculpture in belgium. duclos, ad.: bruges, histoire et souvenirs. edwards, george wharton: some old flemish towns. fris, victor: histoire de gand. froissart, sir john: chronicles of england, france, spain and the adjoining countries. fromentin, eugène: the old masters of belgium and holland (les maîtres d'autrefois). génard, p.: anvers à travers les ages. -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 a 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. b 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. c 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. d 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. e 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. f 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. g 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. h 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. i 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. j 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. k 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. l _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. m 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. n 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. o 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. p 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. q 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. r 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. s 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. t 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. u urbin, duke of, 378. v 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. w 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. y 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. z 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. 