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 happylittle country, were of a character but little known or understood bythe great outside world. The very names of their cities and townssounded strangely in foreign ears. 

Towns named Ypres, Courtrai, Alost, Furnes, Tournai, were in thebeginning of the invasion unpronounceable by most people, but little bylittle they have become familiar through newspaper reports of thebarbarities said to have been practised upon the people by the invaders. Books giving the characteristics of these heroic people are eagerlysought. Unhappily these are few, and it would seem that these veryinadequate and random notes of mine upon some phases of the lives ofthese people, particularly those related to architecture, and the musicof their renowned chimes of bells, might be useful. 

That the Fleming was not of an artistic nature I found during myresidence in these towns of Flanders. The great towers and wondrousarchitectural marvels throughout this smiling green flat landscapeappealed 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 coursespeaking of the ordinary or "Bourgeois" class now. Then, too, the classof great landed proprietors was numerically very small indeed, the landgenerally being parcelled or hired out in small squares or holdings bythe peasants themselves. Occasionally the commune owned the land, andsublet portions to the farmers at prices controlled to some extent bythe demand. Rarely was a "taking" (so-called) more than five acres or soin extent. Many of the old "Noblesse" are without landed estates, andthis, I am informed, was because their lands were forfeited when theFrench Republic annexed Belgium, and were never restored to them. Thusthe whole region of the Flemish littoral was given over to smallholdings which were worked on shares by the peasants under generalconditions which would be considered intolerable by the Anglo-Saxon. Acommon and rather depressing sight on the Belgian roads at dawn of day, were the long lines of trudging peasants, men, women and boys hurryingto the fields for the long weary hours of toil lasting often into thedark 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 thefields, as practised here where nothing was wasted, could not of coursebe a happy or healthful work, nor calculated to elevate the peasant inintelligence, so as a matter of fact the great body of the countrypeople, who were the laborers, were steeped in an extraordinary state ofignorance. 

If their education was neglected, they are still sound Catholics, and itmay be that it was not thought to be in the interest of the authoritiesthat they should be instructed in more worldly affairs. I am notprepared to argue this question. I only know that while stolid, andunemotional ordinarily, they are intensely patriotic. They became highlyexcited during the struggle some years ago to have their Flemish tonguepreserved and taught in the schools, and I remember the crowds of peoplethronging the streets of Antwerp, Ghent and Bruges, with bands of musicplaying, and huge banners flying, bearing in large letters legends suchas "Flanders for the Flemings. " "Hail to the Flemish Lion" and "Flandersto the Death. " All this was when the struggle between the two partieswas going on. 

The Flemings won, be it recorded. 

Let alone, the Fleming would have worked out his own salvation in hisown way. The country was prosperous. The King and Queen were popular, indeed beloved; all seemed to be going well with the people. AlthoughBelgium was not a military power such as its great neighbors to thenorth, the east, and the south, its army played an important part in thelives of the people, and the strategical position which the country heldfilled in the map the ever present question of "balance"; the neverabsent possibility of the occasion arising when the army would be calledupon to defend the neutrality of the little country. But they neverdreamed that it would come so soon. . . . One might close with the words ofthe 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 thepicturesque line of low, red-tiled roofs showing here and there abovethe clustering, dark-green masses of trees in level meadows, was that ofSt. Rombauld, designated by Vauban as "the Eighth Wonder of the World, "constructed by Keldermans, of the celebrated family of architects. He itwas who designed the Bishop's Palace, and the great town halls ofLouvain, Oudenaarde, and Brussels, although some authorities allege thatGauthier Coolman designed the Cathedral. But without denying the powerand artistry of this latter master, we may still believe in thewell-established claim of Keldermans, who showed in this great tower theheight of art culminating in exalted workmanship. Keldermans wasselected by Marguerite and Philip of Savoie to build the "GreatestChurch in Europe, " and the plans, drawn with the pen on large sheets ofparchment pasted together, which were preserved in the Brussels Museumup 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, showeredKeldermans with honors; made him director of construction of the townsof Antwerp, Brussels, and Malines, putting thus the seal of artisticperfection 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 isunknown, as the ancient records were destroyed, together with thearchives, during the troubles in the sixteenth century. The 'Nefs' andthe transepts are the most ancient, their construction dating from thethirteenth century. It is conjectured that the first three erections ofaltars in the choir and the consecration of the monument took place inMarch, 1312. The great conflagration of May, 1342, which destroyednearly all of the town, spared the church itself, but consumed theentire roof of heavy beams of Norway pine. The ruins remained thus for along period because of lack of funds for restoration, and in themeantime services were celebrated in the church of St. Catherine. It wasnot until 1366 that the cathedral was sufficiently repaired to be usedby the canons. Once begun, however, the repairs continued, althoughslowly. But the tower remained uncompleted as it was at the outbreak ofthe Great War, standing above the square at the great height of 97. 70metres. " 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 bybirth, but a habitant of Malines, and cost the town the sum of tenthousand francs ($2000). The citizens so appreciated his work that thecouncil awarded him a pension of two hundred florins, "which he enjoyedfor fourteen years. "

St. Rombauld was famous for its chime of forty-five bells of remarkablesilvery quality: masterpieces of Flemish bell founding. Malines was formany hundreds of years the headquarters of bell founding. Of the masterbell founders, the most celebrated, according to the archives, was JeanZeelstman, who practised his art for thirty years. He made, in 1446, for the ancient church of Saint Michel at Louvain (destroyed by theVandals in 1914) a large bell, bearing the inscription: "Michaelprepositus paradisi quem nonoripicant angelorum civis fusa per JohannZeelstman anno dmi, m. Ccc. Xlvi. "

The family of Waghemans furnished a great number of bell founders ofrenown, who made many of the bells in the carillon of the cathedral ofSt. Rombauld; and there was lastly the Van den Gheyns (or Ghein), ofwhich William of Bois-le-Duc became "Bourgeoisie" (Burgess) of Malinesin 1506. His son Pierre succeeded to his business in 1533, and in turnleft a son Pierre II, who carried on the great repute of his father. Thetower of the Hospice of Notre Dame contained in 1914 a remarkable oldbell of clear mellow tone--bearing the inscription: "Peeter Van denGhein heeft mi Ghegotten in't jaer M. D. LXXX VIII. " On the lower rimwere the words: "Campana Sancti spiritus Divi Rumlodi. " Pierre Van denGhein II had but one son, Pierre III, who died without issue in 1618. William, however, left a second son, from whom descended the line oflater bell founders, who made many of the bells of Malines. Of thesePierre IV, who associated himself with Pierre de Clerck (a cousingerman), made the great "bourdon" called Salvator. 

During the later years of the seventeenth century, the Van den Gheynsseem to have quitted the town, seeking their fortunes elsewhere, for thefoundry passed into other and less competent hands. 

In Malines dwelt the Primate of Belgium, the now celebrated CardinalMercier, whose courageous attitude in the face of the invaders hasaroused the admiration of the whole civilized world. Malines, althoughnear Brussels, had, up to the outbreak of the war and its subsequentruin, perhaps better preserved its characteristics than more remotetowns of Flanders. The market place was surrounded by purely Flemishgabled houses of grayish stucco and stone, and these were mostcharmingly here and there reflected in the sluggish water of the ratherevil-smelling river Dyle. 

Catholicism was a most powerful factor here, and the struggle betweenLuther and Loyola, separating the ancient from the modern in Flemisharchitecture, was nowhere better exemplified than in Malines. It hasbeen said that the modern Jesuitism succeeded to the ancient mysticismwithout displacing it, and the installation of the first in the verysanctuary of the latter has manifested itself in the ornamentation ofthe ecclesiastical edifices throughout Flanders, and indeed this fact isvery evident to the travelers in this region. The people of Malinesjealously retained the integrity of their ancient tongue, and many booksin the language were published here. Associations abounded in the townbanded together for the preservation of Flemish as a language. On fêtedays these companies, headed by bands of music, paraded the streets, bearing large silken banners on which, with the Lion of Flanders, wereinscriptions such as "Flanders for the Flemish, " and "Hail to ourFlemish Lion. " On these occasions, too, the chimes in St. Rombauld wereplayed by a celebrated bell-ringer, while the square below the tower wasblack with people listening breathlessly to the songs of theirforefathers, often joining in the chorus, the sounds of the voicescarrying a long distance. On the opposite side of the square, in thecenter of which was a fine statue of Margaret of Austria, adjoining therecently restored "Halles, " a fine building in the purest Renaissancewas being constructed, certainly a credit to the town, and an honor toits architect, attesting as it did the artistic sense and prosperity ofthe people. This, too, lies now in ashes--alas!

Flanders fairly bloomed, if I may use the expression, with exquisitearchitecture, and this garden spot, this cradle of art, as it has wellbeen 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 flourishedamazingly, and brought into existence talent which produced manycathedrals, town halls, and gateways, the like of which were not to befound elsewhere in Europe. These buildings, ornamented with lace-liketraceries and crowded with statuary, their interiors embellished withchoir screens of marvelous detail wrought in stone, preserved to theworld the art of a half-forgotten past, and these works of incomparableart were being cared for and restored by the State for the benefit ofthe whole world. Here, too, in Malines was a most quaint "Beguinage, " orasylum, in an old quarter of the town, hidden away amid a network ofnarrow streets: a community of gentle-mannered, placid-faced women, whodwelt in a semi-religious retirement after the ancient rules laid downby Sainte Begga, in little, low, red-roofed houses ranged all about agrass-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 workamong the sick and needy: an order, by the way, not found outside ofFlanders. 

Each day brought for them a monotonous existence, the same duties at thesame hours, waking in a gentle quietude, rhythmed by the silvery notesof the convent bell recalling them to the duties of their pious lives, all oblivious of the great outside world. Each Beguinage door bore thename of some saint, and often in a moss-covered niche in the old wallswas seen a small statue of some saint, or holy personage, draped invines. 

The heavy, barred door was nail studded, and furnished usually with aniron-grilled wicket, where at the sound of the bell of the visitor apanel slid back and a white-coiffed face appeared. This secluded quarterwas not exclusively inhabited by these gentle women, for there wereother dwellings for those that loved the quiet solitude of this end ofthe town. 

The Malines Beguinage was suppressed by the authorities in 1798, and itwas not until 1804 that the order was permitted to resume operationsunder their former rights, nor were they allowed to resume their quaintcostume until the year 1814. 

In the small church on my last visit I saw the portrait of the BeguineCatherine Van Halter, the work of the painter I. Cossiers, and anotherpicture by him representing the dead Christ on the knees of the Virginsurrounded by disciples. Cossiers seemed to revel in the ghastliness ofthe scene, but the workmanship was certainly of a very high order. TheBeguine showed me with much pride their great treasure, a tiny, six-inchfigure of the Crucifixion, carved from one piece of ivory by Jerome dueQuesnoy. It was of very admirable workmanship, the face being remarkablein expression. Despatches (March, 1916) report this Beguinage entirelydestroyed by the siege guns. One wonders what was the fate of thesaintly women. 

On the Place de la Boucherie in Malines was the old "Palais, " which wasused as a museum and contained many ill-assorted objects of the greatestinterest and value, such as medals, embroideries, weapons, and a finecollection of ancient miniatures on ivory. There was also a great iron"Armoire Aux Chartes, " quite filled with priceless parchments, greatvellum tomes, bound in brass; large waxen seals of dead and gone rulersand nobles; heavy volumes bound in leather, containing the archives. Andalso a most curious strong box bound in iron bands, nail studded, andwith immense locks and keys, upon which reclined a strange, woodenfigure with a grinning face, clad in the moth-eaten ancient dress ofMalines, representing "Op Signorken" (the card states), but theattendant told me it was the "Vuyle Bridegroom, " and related a story ofit which cannot be set down here, Flemish ideas and speech being ratherfreer than ours. But the people, or rather the peasants, are devoted tohim, and there were occasions when he was borne in triumph inprocessions when the town was "en fête. "

The ancient palace of Margaret of York, wife of Charles the Bold, whoafter the tragic death of her consort retired to Malines, was in the Ruede l'Empereur. It was used latterly as the hospital, and was utterlydestroyed in the bombardment of 1914. 

The only remnant of the ancient fortifications, I found on my last visitin 1910, was the fine gate, the "Porte de Bruxelles, " with a smallsection of the walls, all reflected in an old moat now overgrown withmoss and sedge grass. There were, too, quaint vistas of the old tower ofOur Lady of Hanswyk and a number of arched bridges along the banks ofthe yellow Dyle, which flows sluggishly through the old town. 

On the "Quai-au-sel, " I saw in 1910, a number of ancient façades, mostpicturesque and quaintly pinnacled. There also a small botanical gardenfloriated most luxuriantly, and here again the Dyle reflected the mossywalls of ancient stone palaces, and there were rows of tall, wooden, carved posts standing in the stream, to which boats were moored as inVenice. 

[Illustration: Porte de Bruxelles: Malines]

Throughout the town, up to the time of the bombardment, were many quaintmarket-places, all grass grown, wherein on market days weretall-wheeled, peasant carts, and lines of huge, hollow-backed, thick-legged, hairy horses, which were being offered for sale. And therewere 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, andmysterious, limned against the pearly, luminous sky, the moreimpressive perhaps because of its unfinished state. And so, howeverinteresting the other architectural attractions of Malines might be, andthey were many, it was always to the great cathedral that one turned, for the townspeople were so proud of the great gray tower, veneratedthroughout the whole region, that they were insistent that we shouldexplore it to the last detail. "The bells, " they would exclaim, "thegreat bells of Saint Rombauld! You have not yet seen them?"

St. Rombauld simply compelled one's attention, and ended by laying sofirm a hold upon the imagination that at no moment of the day or nightwas one wholly unconscious of its unique presence. By day and night itschimes floated through the air "like the music of fairy bells, " weirdand soft, noting the passing hours in this ancient Flemish town. Forfour hundred years it had watched over the varying fortunes of thisregion, gaining that precious quality which appealed to Ruskin, whosaid, "Its glory is in its age and in that deep sense of voicefulness, of stern watching, of mysterious sympathy, nay, even of approval orcondemnation, which we feel in walls that have long been washed by thepassing waves of humanity. "

From below the eye was carried upward by range upon range of exquisiteGothic detail to the four great open-work, gilded, clock discs, throughwhich one could dimly see the beautiful, open-pointed lancets behindwhich 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 oldtower against the pale luminous sky, or the pathetic charm of its wildbell 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 theimmensity of the dusk, or by day in varying light and shade, in stormand sunshine, with wind-driven clouds chasing each other across the sky. 

The ascent of the tower was a formidable task, and really it seemed asif it must have been far more than three hundred and fifty feet to thetopmost gallery, when I essayed it on that stormy August day. It was notan 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 goneto market and taken the key to the tower door with him, " said thewithered 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. Sheunlocked a heavy, white-washed door into a dusty, dim vestibule, andthen proceeded to lock me in, pointing to another door at the fartherend, saying, as she returned to her savory stew pot on the iron stove, "Montez, Montez, vous trouverez l'escalier. " The heavy door swung to bya weight on a cord, and I was at the bottom step of the winding stairwayof the tower. For a few steps upward the way was in darkness, up thenarrow stone steps, clinging to a waxy, slippery rope attached to thewall, which was grimy with dust, the steps sloping worn and uneven. Quaint, gloomy openings in the wall revealed themselves from time totime 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, lowdoorways heavily bolted and studded with iron nails. The narrow slits ofwindows served only to let in dim, dusty beams of violet light. Throughone dark slit in the wall I caught sight of the huge bulk of a bronzebell, green with the precious patina of age, and I fancied I heardfootsteps on the stairway that wound its way above. 

It was the watchman, a great hairy, oily Fleming, clad in a red sort ofjersey, and blue patched trousers. On the back of his shock of pale, rope-colored hair sat jauntily a diminutive cap with a glazed peak. Inthe lobes of his huge ears were small gold rings. 

I was glad to see him and to have his company in that place of cobwebsand dangling hand rope. I gave him a thick black cigar which I hadbought in the market-place that morning, and struck a match from whichwe both had a light. He expressed wonder at my matches, those papercartons common in America, but which he had never before seen. I gavethem to him, to his delight. He brought me upwards into a room crammedwith strange machinery, all cranks and levers and wires and pulleys, andbefore us two great cylinders like unto a "Brobdingnagian" music box. Hedrew out a stool for me and courteously bade me be seated, speaking inFrench with a strong Flemish accent. He was, he said, a mechanic, whoseduty it was to care for the bells and the machinery. He had an assistantwho went on duty at six o'clock. He served watches of eight hours. Therecame a "whir" from a fan above, and a tinkle from a small bell somewherenear 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? ThenM'sieur knew what to expect. 

I took out my watch, and from the tail of my eye I fancied that I saw agleam in his as he appraised the watch I held in my hand. He drew hisbench nearer to me and held out his great hairy, oily paw, saying, "Letme see the pretty watch. " "Not necessary, " I replied, putting it back inmy pocket and calmly eying him, although my heart began to beat fast. Iwas 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 aswell as I was able. I had an ammonia gun in my pocket which I carried tofend off ugly dogs by the roadside, which infest the country. And this Icarried in my hip pocket. It resembled somewhat a forty-four caliberrevolver. I put my hand behind me, drew it forth, eying him the while, and ostentatiously toyed with it before placing it in my blouse sidepocket. It had, I thought, an instantaneous effect, for he drew back, opening his great mouth to say something, I know not what nor shall Iever know, for at that instant came a clang from the machinery, awarning whir of wheels, the rattle of chains, and one of the greatbarrels began to revolve slowly; up and down rattled the chains andlevers, then, faint, sweet and far off, I heard a melodious janglefollowed by the first notes of the "Mirleton" I had so often heard belowin the town, but now subdued, etherealized, and softened like unto thedream music one fancies in the night. The watchman now grinnedreassuringly at me, and, rising, beckoned me with his huge grimy hand tofollow him. Grasping my good ammonia gun I followed him up a woodenstairway to a green baize covered door. This he opened to an inferno ofcrash and din. The air was alive with tumult and the booming of heavymetal. We were among the great bells of the bottom tier. Before us wasthe "bourdon, " so called, weighing 2, 200 pounds, the bronze monster uponwhich the bass note was sounded, and which sounded the hour over thelevel fields of Flanders. Dimly above I could see other bells of varioussize, hanging tier upon tier from great, red-painted, wooden beamsclamped 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 didhim an injustice, but I liked not the avaricious gleam in his littleslits of eyes. 

The bells clanged and clashed as they would break from their fasteningsand drop upon us, and my brain reeled with the discord. On they beat andboomed, as if they would never stop. No melody was now apparent, thoughdown below it had seemed as if their sweetness was all too brief. Uphere 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 andweirdness, had quite vanished, and here amid the smell of lubricatingoil and the heavy, noisy grinding of the cog wheels, and the rattle ofiron chains, all the poetry and elusiveness of the bells was certainlywanting. 

All at once just before me a great hammer raised its head, and thenfell with a sounding clang upon the rim of a big bell; the half hour hadstruck. All about us the air resounded and vibrated with the mightywaves of sound. From the bells above finally came the hum of faintharmonics, and then followed silence like the stillness that ensuesafter a heavy clap of thunder. 

Cerberus now beckoned me to accompany him amongst the bells, and showedme the machinery that sets this great marvel of sound in motion. Heshowed me the huge "tambour-carillon, " with barrels all bestudded withlittle brass pegs which pull the wires connected with the great hammers, which in their turn strike the forty-six bells, that unrivaled chimeknown throughout Flanders as the master work of the Van den Gheyns ofLouvain, who were, as already told, the greatest bell founders of theage. 

The great hour bell weighing, as already noted, nearly a ton, requiredthe united strength of eight men to ring him. Cerberus pointed out to methe narrow plank runway between the huge dusty beams, whereon theseeight men stood to their task. The carillon tunes, he told me, werealtered every year or so, and to do this required the entire changing ofthe small brass pegs in the cylinders, a most formidable task, Ithought. He explained that the cutting of each hole costs sixty_centimes_ (twelve cents) and that there were about 30, 000 holes, sothat the change must be quite expensive, but I did not figure it outfor myself. 

The musical range of this carillon chime of Malines may be judged by thefact that it was possible to play, following on the hour, a selectionfrom "Don Pasquale, " and on the half and quarter hours a few bars fromthe "Pre aux Clercs. " Every seven and a half minutes sounded a fewjangling sweet notes, and thus the air over the old town of Malines andthe small hamlets surrounding it both day and night was musical with thebells of the carillon. 

On fête days a certain famous bell ringer was engaged by the authoritiesto play the bells from the _clavecin_. This is a sort of keyboard withpedals played by hand and foot, fashioned like a rude piano. The work isvery hard, one would think, but I have heard some remarkable resultsfrom it. In former times the office of "carilloneur" was a mostimportant position, and, as in the case of the Van den Gheyn family ofLouvain, it was hereditary. The music played by these men, those"morceaux fugues, " once the pride and pleasure of the Netherlands, isnow the wonder and despair of the modern bell ringer, however skillfulhe may be. 

[Illustration: The Beguinage: Dixmude]

Cerberus informed me that sometimes months pass without a visit from astranger to his tower room, and that he had to wind up the mechanismof the immense clock twice each day, and that of the carillon separatelythree times each twenty-four hours, and that it was required of him thathe should sound two strokes upon the "do" bell after each quarter, toshow that he was "on the job, " so to speak. 

I told him I thought his task a hard and lonely one, and I offered himanother of the black cigars, which he accepted with civility, but I keptmy 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 myfears, as far as he was concerned, were groundless, but neverthelessthey 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 steepsteps leading upwards to the top gallery. Here on the open gallery Igazed north, east, south, and west over the placid, flat, green-embossedmeadows threaded with silver, ribbon-like waterways, upon which floatedred-sailed barges. Below, as in the bottom of a bowl, lay Malines, itssmall red-roofed houses stretching away in all directions to the remainsof the ancient walls, topped here and there with a red-sailed windmill, in the midst of verdant fresh fields wooded here and there with clumpsof willows, where the armies of the counts of Flanders, and the VanArteveldes, fought in the olden days. 

I could see the square below where, in the Grand' Place, those doughtyKnights of the Golden Fleece had gathered before the pilgrimage to theHoly Land. Now a few dwarfed, black figures of peasants crawled likeinsects across the wide emptiness of it. Here among the startledjackdaws I lounged smoking and ruminating upon the bells, oily Cerberus, and his lonely task, and inhaling the misty air from the winding canalsin the fertile green fields below--appraising the values of the palediaphanous sky of misty blue, harmonizing so exquisitely with the tendergreens of the landscape which had charmed Cuyp and Memling, until theblue was suffused with molten gold, and over all the landscape spread atender and lovely radiance, which in turn became changed to ruddy flamesin 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 goforth unharmed. I confess that I was coward enough to give him twofrancs as a fee instead of the single one which was his due, and then Istumbled down the long winding stairway, grasping the slippery hand ropetimorously until I gained the street level, glad to be among fellowbeings once more, but not sorry I had spent the afternoon among thebells of the Carillon of Saint Rombauld--those bells which now liebroken among the ashes of the tower in the Grand' Place of the ruinedtown of Malines. 

Some Carillons of Flanders

Some Carillons of Flanders

It is worth noting that nearly all of the noble Flemish towers withtheir 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 couldsee dimly the cathedrals of Malines and Brussels, perhaps even those ofBruges and Ghent in clear weather. Haweis ("Music and Morals") says that"one hundred and twenty-six towers can be seen from the AntwerpCathedral on a fair morning, " and he was a most careful observer. "Sothese mighty spires, gray and changeless in the high air, seem to holdconverse together over the heads of puny mortals, and their language isrolled from tower to tower by the music of the bells. "

"Non sunt loquellae neque sermones, audiantur voces eorum, " (there isneither speech nor language, but their voices are heard among men). 

This is an inscription copied by Haweis in the tower at Antwerp, from agreat bell signed, "F. Hemony Amstelo-damia, 1658. "

Speaking of the rich decorations which the Van den Gheyns and Hemonylavished on their bells, he says, "The decorations worked in bas reliefaround some of the old bells are extremely beautiful, while theinscriptions are often highly suggestive, and even touching. " Thesedecorations 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 aspossible. At Malines on a bell bearing date "1697, Antwerp" (nowdestroyed) there is an amazingly vigorous hunt through a forest withdogs and all kinds of animals. I did not see this bell when I was in thetower 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 graceand 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 cherubboys dancing and ringing flat hand bells such as are even now rungbefore the Host in street processions. 

Some of the inscriptions are barely legible because of the peculiarityof the Gothic letters. Haweis mentions seeing the initials J. R. ("JohnRuskin") in the deep sill of the staircase window; underneath a slightdesign of a rose window apparently sketched with the point of a compass. Ruskin loved the Malines Cathedral well, and made many sketches ofdetail while there. I looked carefully for these initials, but I couldnot find them, I am sorry to say. 

Bells have been strangely neglected by antiquaries and historians, andbut few facts concerning them are to be found in the libraries. Haweisspeaks of the difficulty he encountered in finding data about the chimesof the Low Countries, alleging that the published accounts and rumorsabout their size, weight, and age are seldom accurate or reliable. Evenin the great libraries and archives of the Netherlands at Louvain, Bruges, or Brussels the librarians were unable to furnish him withaccurate information. 

He says: "The great folios of Louvain, Antwerp, and Mechlin (Malines)containing what is generally supposed to be an exhaustive transcript ofall the monumental and funereal inscriptions in Belgium, will oftenbestow but a couple of dates and one inscription upon a richly decoratedand inscribed carillon of thirty or forty bells. The reason of this isnot far to seek. The fact is, it is no easy matter to get at the bellswhen once they are hung, and many an antiquarian who will haunt tombsand pore over illegible brasses with commendable patience will declineto risk his neck in the most interesting of belfries. The pursuit, too, is often a disappointing one. Perhaps it is possible to get half wayaround a bell and then be prevented by a thick beam, or the bell's ownwheel from seeing the outer half, which, by perverse chance, generallycontains the date and the name of the founder. 

"Perhaps the oldest bell is quite inaccessible, or, after a half hour'sclimbing amid the utmost dust and difficulty, we reach a perfectly blankor commonplace bell. "

He gives the date of 1620, as that when the family of Van den Gheynswere bringing the art of bell founding to perfection in Louvain, andnotes that the tower and bells of each fortified town were half civicproperty. Thus the curfew, the carolus, and the St. Mary bells inAntwerp Cathedral belong to the town. 

"Let us, " he says, "enter the town of Mechlin (Malines) in the year1638. The old wooden bridge (over the river Dyle) has since beenreplaced by a stone one. To this day the elaborately carved façades ofthe old houses close on the water are of incomparable richness ofdesign. The peculiar ascent of steps leading up to the angle of theroof, in a style borrowed from the Spaniards, is a style everywhere tobe met with. The noblest of square florid Gothic towers, the tower ofSt. Rombauld (variously spelled St. Rombaud, St. Rombaut, or St. Rombod)finished up to three hundred and forty-eight feet, guides us to what isnow called the Grand' Place, where in an obscure building are theworkshops and furnaces adjoining the abode of Peter Van den Gheyn, themost renowned bell founder of the seventeenth century, born in 1605. Incompany with his associate, Deklerk, arrangements are being made for thefounding of a big bell. 

"Before the cast was made there was no doubt great controversy betweenthe mighty smiths, Deklerk and Van den Gheyn: plans had to be drawn outon parchment, measurements and calculations made, little proportionsweighed by fine instinct, and the defects and merits of ever so manybells canvassed. The ordinary measurements, which now hold good for alarge bell, are, roughly, one-fifteenth of the diameter in thickness, and twelve times the thickness in height. Describing the foundrybuildings: The first is for the furnaces, containing the vast caldronfor 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 andshape of the intended bell, into which the liquid metal is pouredthrough a tube from the furnace, and this mold is constructed in thefollowing simple but ingenious manner:

"Suppose the bell to be six feet high, a brick column of about thatheight is built something in the shape of the outside of a bell. Uponthe smooth surface of this solid bell-shaped mass can now be laidfigures, decorations, and inscriptions in wax; a large quantity of themost delicately prepared clay is then produced, the model is slightlywashed with some kind of oil to prevent the fine clay from sticking toit, and three or four coats of the fine clay in an almost liquid stateare daubed carefully all over the model. Next, a coating of common clayis added to strengthen the mold to the thickness of some inches. Andthus the model stands with its great bell-shaped cover closely fittingover it. 

"A fire is now lighted underneath, the brick work in the interior isheated, through the clay, through the wax ornaments and oils, whichsteam out in vapor through two holes at the top, leaving theirimpressions on the inside of the cover (of clay). 

[Illustration: The Belfry: Bergues]

"When everything is baked thoroughly hard, the cover is raised bodilyinto the air by a rope, and held suspended some feet exactly above themodel. In the interior of the cover thus raised will, of course, befound the exact impression in hollow of the outside of the bell. Themodel of clay and masonry is then broken up, and its place is taken byanother perfectly smooth model, only smaller--exactly the size of theinside of the bell, in fact. On this the great cover now descends, andis stopped in time to leave a hollow space between the new model anditself. This is effected simply by the bottom rim of the new modelforming a base, at the proper distance upon which the rim of the claycover may rest in its descent. 

"The hollow space between the clay cover and second clay mold is now theexact shape of the required bell, and only waits to be filled withmetal. 

"So far all has been comparatively easy; but the critical moment has nowarrived. The furnaces have long been smoking; the brick work containingthe caldron is almost glowing with red heat; a vast draft passageunderneath the floor keeps the fire rapid; from time to time it leaps upwith a hundred angry tongues, or in one sheet of flame, over thefurnace-imbedded caldron. Then the cunning artificer brings forth hisheaps of choice metal, large cakes of red coruscated copper fromDrontheim, called 'Rosette, ' owing to a certain rare pink bloom thatseems to lie all over it like the purple on a plum; then a quantity oftin, so highly refined that it shines and glistens like pure silver;these are thrown into the caldron and melted down together. Kings andnobles have stood beside those famous caldrons, and looked withreverence upon the making of these old bells. Nay, they have broughtgold and silver and, pronouncing the name of some holy saint or apostlewhich the bell was thereafter to bear, they have flung in preciousmetals, rings, bracelets, and even bullion. 

"But for a moment or two before the pipe which is to convey the metalto the mold is opened, the smith stands and stirs the molten mass to seeif all is melted. Then he casts in certain proportions of zinc and othermetals which belong to the secrets of the trade; he knows how muchdepends upon these little refinements, which he has acquired byexperience, and which perhaps he could not impart even if he would, sotrue is it that in every art that which constitutes success is a matterof instinct, and not of rule, or even science. 

"He knows, too, that almost everything depends upon the moment chosenfor flooding the mold. Standing in the intense heat, and calling loudlyfor a still more raging fire, he stirs the metal once more. At a givensignal the pipe is opened, and with a long smothered rush the moltenmetal fills the mold to the brim. Nothing now remains but to let themetal cool, and then to break up the clay and brick work and extract thebell, which is then finished for better or for worse. "

We learn much of the difficulties encountered even by these greatmasters in successfully casting the bells, and that even they were notexempt from failure. "The Great Salvator" bell at Malines, made by PeterVan 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 fewyears 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 levelwith the street, was a great bell of splendid tone, bearing thefollowing inscription: "Claes Noorden Johan Albert de Grave me feceruntAmstel--odamia, MDCCXIV. "

Haweis mentions also the names of Bartholomews Goethale, 1680, who madea bell now in St. Stephen's belfry at Ghent; and another, AndrewSteilert, 1563, at Malines (Mechlin). The great carillon in the belfryat Bruges, thus far spared by the iconoclasts of 1914, consisting offorty bells and one large Bourdon, or triumphal bell, is from thefoundry of the great Dumery, who also made the carillon at Antwerp. 

Haweis credits Petrus Hemony, 1658, with being the most prolific of allthe bell founders. He was a good musician and took to bell founding onlylate in life. "His small bells are exceedingly fine, but his larger onesare 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 attentivelylistened to them from below in the Grand' Place, trying to discover theinharmonious note that troubled him. I ventured to ask one of thepriests if he had noticed any flatness in the notes, and he scorned theidea, saying that the bells, "all of them, " were perfect. 

Nevertheless, I must accept the statement of Haweis, who for years madea study of these bells and their individualities and than whom perhapsnever has lived a more eminent authority. 

From my room in the small hotel de Buda, just beneath the old gray towerof St. Rombauld in this ancient town of Malines, I have listened by dayand night to the music of these bells, which sounded so exquisite to methat I can still recall them. The poet has beautifully expressed theidea of the bell music of Flanders thus, "The Wind that sweeps over hercampagnas 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 theimagination and life of the people. 

The Flemish peasant is born, grows up, lives his life out, and finallyis 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 PlaceVerte, 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 dearand valued friend, for the sound of the bells had become really a partof my daily existence. 

Victor Hugo, who traveled through Flanders in 1837, stopped for a timein Malines, and was so impressed with the carillon that he is said tohave written there the following lines by moonlight with a diamond uponthe 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 placethese wondrous collections of bells in her great towers, which seem tohave been built for them. Thus came the carillons of Malines, Bruges, Ghent, Antwerp, Louvain, and Tournai. Of these, Antwerp possessed thegreatest in number, sixty-five bells. Malines came next with forty-four, then Bruges with forty, and a great bourdon or bass bell; then Tournaiand 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 chamberwith a leaden floor, I found a very old _clavecin_. It was simply arude keyboard much like that of a primitive kind of organ, presenting anumber of jutting handles, something like rolling pins, each of whichwas attached to a wire operating the hammer, in the bell chamberoverhead, 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 agilityso to smite each of these pins with his gloved fist, his knees and eachof his feet (on the foot board) that the hammers above would fall on therims of the different bells. 

From my room in the old "Panier d'or" in the market-place on many nightshave I watched the tower against the dim sky, and seen the light of the"_veilleur_, " shining in the topmost window, where he keeps watch overthe sleeping town, and sounds two strokes upon a small bell after eachquarter is struck, to show that he is on watch. And so passed the timein 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 greatsquat church of St. Martin, and the quaint town hall adjoining it, nownot one stone remains upon another. The old mossy walls and bastion arelevel with the soil, and even the course of the small sluggishly flowingriver Yser is changed by the ruin that chokes it. 

I found it to be a melancholy, faded-out kind of place in 1910, when Ilast saw it. I came down from Antwerp especially to see old St. Martin's, which enshrined a most wondrous _Jube_, or altar screen, and achime of bells from the workshop of the Van den Gheyns. There waslikewise on the Grand' Place, a fine old prison of the fourteenthcentury, its windows all closed with rusty iron bars, most of which wereloose in the stones. I tried them, to the manifest indignation of thesolitary gendarme, who saw me from a distance across the Grand' Placeand hurried over to place me under arrest. I had to show him not only mypassport but my letter of credit and my sketch book before he wouldbelieve that I was what I claimed to be, a curious American, andsomething of an antiquary. But it was the sketch book that won him, forhe told me that he had a son studying painting in Antwerp at theacademy. So we smoked together on a bench over the bridge of the "PapeGaei" and he related the story of his life, while I made a sketch of thesilent, 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, thatsame square that witnessed the entry of Charles the Fifth amid thesilk-and velvet-clad nobles and burghers, and the members of the greatand powerful guilds, which he regarded and treated with such respect. Inthose days the town had a population of thirty thousand or more. On thisday my friend the gendarme told me that there were about eleven hundredin 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; thegendarme; 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 inships in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries had now vanished, andlong 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 andrenown, had likewise long since vanished, and nought remained but hereand there on the silent, grass-grown streets gray, ancient palaces withbarred and shuttered windows. The very names of those who once dweltthere could be found only in the musty archives in Bruges or Brussels. Asmall _estaminet_ across the bridge bore the sign "In den Pape Gaei, "and to this I fared and wrote my notes, while the crippled girl carryingthe baby seated herself where she could watch me, and then lapsed into asort of trance, with wide open eyes which evidently saw not. 

In company with a large, black, savage-looking dog which traveledside-ways regarding me threateningly, I thought, and gloweringly refusedmy offers of friendship, I crossed the Grand' Place to the Hôtel deVille, or Town Hall, the door of which stood open. Inside, no livingsoul responded to my knock. The rooms were rather bare of furniture, many of them of noble proportions, and a few desks and chairs showedthat they were used by the town officers, wherever they were. 

St. Martin's was closed, and I skirted its walls, hoping to findsomewhere 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 apatch of green grass, I saw low down in the wall a grated window, whichI 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 theiron bars that closed it. For a moment I could see nothing, then when myeyes became accustomed to the light I saw a tall candle burning on aniron ring on the wall; then a heavy black cross beside it, and finally afigure 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 almostcommitting sacrilege. Unfortunately for me, I dislodged some loosemortar, and I heard this rattle noisily into the chamber below. Then Ifled as rapidly as I could down the dim alley-way to the silent sunlitGrand' Place. Here I found the verger, and he admitted me to the greatold church, in return for a one-franc piece, and brought me arush-bottom chair to a choice spot before the wondrous _Jube_, where Imade my drawing. 

[Illustration: The Great Jube, or Altar Screen: Dixmude]

In the silence of the great gray old church I labored over the exquisiteGothic detail, all unmindful of the passing time, when all at once Ibecame conscious that a small green door beside the right hand low_retable_ was moving outward. I ceased working and watched it; then thesolitary 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'scassock, with a staff in his hand. The small, green, baize-covered doorclosed noiselessly; the old man slowly opened the gate before thealtar and came down the step toward me. Without a word he walked behindmy chair and peered over my shoulder at the drawing I was making of thegreat _Jube_. 

He tapped the floor with his staff, placed it under his arm, sought hispocket somewhere beneath his cassock, from which he produced a snuffbox. From this he took a generous pinch, and a moment later was blowingvigorously that note of satisfaction that only a devotee of the powdercan render an effective adjunct of emotion. 

"Bien faite, M'sieur, " he exclaimed at length, wiping his eyes on arather suspicious looking handkerchief. "T-r-r-r-r-es bien faite! J'vousfais mes compliments. " "Admirable! You have certainly rendered thespirit of our great and wondrous altar screen. "

A little later we passed out of the old church through a side doorleading into a small green enclosure, now gloomy in the shade of the oldstone walls. At one end was a tangle of briar, and here were some oldgraves, each with a tinsel wreath or two on the iron cross. Andpresiding over these was the limp figure of a one-legged man on twocrutches, 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 therich green grass. 

"Oui, M'sieur, " said the priest, as if continuing a sentence he wasrunning over in his mind. "Cassé! Pauvre Pierre, un peu cassé, le pauvrebonhomme, but then, he's good for several years yet; cracked he is, butonly cracked like a good old basin, and (in the idiom) he'll still holdwell 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 morselsof tile; "the roof cracks, but it still holds, " he added, pointingupwards at the old tower of St. Martin's. "And now, M'sieur, I shalltake 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. "Ihave been here twenty-five years; I bought all the antique furniture ofmy predecessor. I said to myself, 'Yes, I shall buy the furniture forfive hundred francs, and then, later I shall sell to a wealthy amateurfor one thousand francs, perhaps in a year or two. ' Twenty-five yearsago, and I have it yet. And now it creaks and creaks and snaps in thenight. We all creak and creak thus as we grow old; ah, you should hearmy wardrobes. 'Elles cassent les dos, ' and I lie in my warm bed in thewinter nights and listen to my antiques groan and complain. Poor oldthings, 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 shouldsee him eye my antiques, ah, so covetously; I see him, but I never leton. Such a collection of antiques as we all are, M'sieur. " Then hebecame serious, and lifting his cane he pointed to a gravestone at oneside, "My old servant lies there, M'sieur; we are all old here now, butstill we do not die. Alas! we never die. There is plenty of room herefor us, but we die hard. See, myotis, heliotrope, hare bells, andmignonette, a bed of perfume, and there lies my old servant. A restlessold soul she was, and she took such a long time to die. She waseighty-five when she finally made up her mind. "

I had a cup of wine with the old man in his small _salle à manger_. Hishouse was indeed a mine of wealth for the antiquary and collector, morelike a shop than a house. I lingered with him for nearly an hour, telling him of the great world lying beyond Dixmude, of London andParis, and of New York and some of its wonders, of which I fancied hewas rather sceptical. And then I came away, after shaking hands with himat his doorstep in the dim alley-way, with the bar of golden sunlightshining at the entrance to the Grand' Place and the noise of the rookscawing 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 crypticwords, he stood with uplifted hands, a smile irradiating his fineascetic face glowing like that of a saint. Behind the faded black of hisold _soutane_ I could see his treasures of blue china and ancientcabinets, and a chance light illumined a mirror behind his head, andaureoled him like unto one of the saints behind the great "Jube, " andthus I left him. 

And now Dixmude is in formless heaps of ashes and burnt timbers. Hardlyone 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 smallisland in the river Yperlee. It was in the shape of a triangle with atower on each corner, and was known to the inhabitants as the "Castle ofthe three Turrets. "

Its establishment was followed by a collection of small huts on thebanks of the stream, built by those who craved the protection of thefortress. 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 soextensive that a town sprang into being, which from its strategicposition on the borders of France soon became of great importance in thewars that constantly occurred. Probably no other Flemish town has seenits defenses so altered and enlarged as Ypres has between the primitivedays when the crusading Thierry d'Alsace planted hedges of live thornsto strengthen the towers, and the formation of the great works ofVauban. We have been so accustomed to regarding the Fleming as asluggish boor, that it comes in the nature of a surprise when we read ofthe part these burghers, these weavers and spinners, took in the greatevents that distinguished Flemish history. "In July, 1302, a contingentof twelve hundred chosen men, five hundred of them clothed in scarletand the rest in black, were set to watch the town and castle ofCourtrai, and the old Roman Broël bridge, during the battle of the'Golden Spurs, ' and the following year saw the celebration of theestablishment of the confraternity of the Archers of St. Sebastian, which still existed in Ypres when I was there in 1910. This was the lastsurvivor of the famed, armed societies of archers which flourished inthe Middle Ages. Seven hundred of these men of Ypres embarked in theFlemish ships which so harassed the French fleet in the great navalengagement of June, 1340. "

Forty years later five thousand men of Ypres fought upon the battlefieldwith the French, on that momentous day which witnessed the death ofPhilip Van Artevelde and the triumph of Leliarts. Later, when the Allieslaid siege to the town, defended by Leliarts and Louis of Maele, it wasmaintained by a force of ten thousand men, and on June 8, 1383, thesewere 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 fortificationsbuilt of stone. The ramparts were of earth, planted with thorn bushesand interlaced with beams. Outside were additional works of wooden postsand stockades, behind the dyke, which was also palisaded. The English, believing that the town would not strongly resist their numbers, triedto carry it by assault. They were easily repulsed, to their greatastonishment, with great losses. 

At last they built three great wooden towers on wheels filled withsoldiers, which they pushed up to the walls, but the valiant garrisonswarmed upon these towers, set fire to them, and either killed orcaptured those who manned them. 

All the proposals of Spencer demanding the surrender of Ypres were metwith scorn, and the English were repeatedly repulsed with great lossesof men whenever they attempted assaults. 

The English turned upon the Flemish of Ghent with fury, saying that theyhad deceived them as to the strength of the garrison of Ypres, andSpencer, realizing that it was impossible to take the town before theFrench army arrived, retired from the field with his soldiers. This leftFlanders at the mercy of the French. But now ensued the death of CountLouis of Maele (1384) and this brought Flanders under the rule of theHouse of Burgundy, which resulted in prosperity and well nigh completeindependence for the Flemings. 

The Great Kermesse of Our Lady of the Garden (Notre Dame de Thuine) wasthen inaugurated because the townspeople believe that Ypres had beensaved by the intercession of the Virgin Mary--the word Thuin meaning inFlemish "an enclosed space, such as a garden plot, " an allusion to thebarrier of thorns which had so well kept the enemy away from thewalls--a sort of predecessor of the barbed-wire entanglements used inthe present great world war. 

The Kermesse was held by the people of Ypres on the first Sunday inAugust every year, called most affectionately "Thuindag, " and whilethere in 1910 I saw the celebration in the great square before the ClothHall, and listened to the ringing of the chimes; the day being usheredin at sunrise by a fanfare of trumpets on the parapet of the tower bythe members of a local association, who played ancient patriotic airswith great skill and enthusiasm. 

In the Place de Musée, a quiet, gray corner of this old town, was anancient Gothic house containing a really priceless collection of medalsand instruments of torture used during the terrible days of the SpanishInquisition. I spent long hours in these old musty rooms alone, and Imight have stolen away whatever took my fancy had I been so minded, forthe _custode_ left me quite alone to wander at will, and the casescontaining the seals, parchments, and small objects were all unfastened. 

I saw the other day another wonderful panorama photograph taken from anaeroplane showing Ypres as it now is, a vast heap of ruins, the ClothHall gutted; the Cathedral leveled, and the site of the little oldmuseum a vast blackened hole in the earth where a shell had landed. Thephotograph, taken by an Englishman, was dated September, 1915. 

The great Hanseatic League, that extensive system of monopolies, was thecause of great dissatisfaction and many wars because of jealousy and badfeeling. Ypres, Ghent, and Bruges, while defending their rights andprivileges against all other towns, fought among themselves. Themonopoly enjoyed by the merchant weavers of Ypres forbade all weavingfor "three leagues around the walls of Ypres, under penalty ofconfiscation of the looms and all of the linen thus woven. "

Constant friction was thus engendered between the towns of Ypres andPoperinghe, resulting in bloody battles and the burning and destructionof much property. Even within the walls of the town this bickering wenton from year to year. When they were not quarreling with their neighborsover slights or attacks, either actual or fancied, they fought amongthemselves over the eternal question of capital _versus_ labor. A sharpline was drawn between the workingman and the members of the guilds whosold his output. The artisans, whose industry contributed so greatly tothe prosperity of these towns, resented any infringement of their legalrights. The merchant magistrates were annually elected, and on oneoccasion, in 1361, to be exact, because this was omitted, the peoplearose in their might against the governors, who were assembled in theNieuwerck of the Hôtel de Ville. The Baillie, one Jean Deprysenaere, haughty in his supposed power, and trusting in his office, as localrepresentative of the Court of Flanders, appeared before the insurgentweavers and endeavored to appease them. "They fell upon him and slewhim" (Vereeke). Then, rushing into the council chamber, they seized theother magistrates and confined them in the belfry of the Cloth Hall. 

"Then the leaders in council resolved to kill the magistrates, andbeheaded the Burgomaster and two sheriffs in the place before the ClothHall in the presence of their colleagues" (Vereeke). 

Following the custom of the Netherlands, each town acted for itselfalone. The popular form of government was that of gatherings in themarket-place where laws were discussed and made by and for the people. The spirit of commercial jealousy, however, kept them apart andnullified their power. Consumed by the thirst for commercial, materialprosperity, they had no faith in each other, no bond of union, eachbeing ready and willing to foster its own interest at its rival'sexpense. Thus neither against foreign nor internal difficulties werethey really united. The motto of modern Belgium, "L'Union fait laForce, " was not yet invented, and there was no great and powerfulauthority in which they believed and about which they could gather. 

This history presents the picture of Ghent assisting an army of Englishsoldiers to lay siege to Ypres. So the distrustful people dwelt amidperpetual quarreling, trade pitted against trade, town against town, fostering weakness of government and shameful submission in defeat. Notown suffered as did Ypres during this distracted state of affairs inFlanders of the sixteenth century, which saw it reduced from a place offirst importance to a dead town with the population of a village. And soit remained up to the outbreak of the world war in 1914. 

This medieval and most picturesque of all the towns of Flanders had notfelt the effect of the wave of restoration, which took place in Belgiumduring the decade preceding the outbreak of the world war, owing to thefact that its monuments of the past were perhaps finer and in a betterstate of preservation than those of any of the other ancient towns. Ypres in the early days had treated the neighboring town of Poperinghewith great severity through jealousy, but she in turn suffered heavilyat 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'sfuture prosperity. 

Its decline thenceforward was rapid, and it never recovered its formerplace in the councils of Flanders. Its two great memorials of the oldentimes were the great Cloth Hall, in the Grand' Place, and the Cathedralof Saint Martin, both dating from the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. 

The Cloth Hall, begun by Count Baldwin IX of Flanders, was perhaps thebest preserved and oldest specimen of its kind in the Netherlands, andwas practically complete up to the middle of August, 1915, when thegreat guns of the iconoclastic invader shot away the top of the immenseclock tower, and unroofed the entire structure. Its façade was nearlyfive hundred feet long, of most severe and simple lines, and presented adouble row of ogival windows, surmounted by niches containing thirty-onefinely executed statues of counts and countesses of Flanders. There weresmall, graceful turrets at each end, and a lofty belfry some two hundredand thirty feet in height in the center, containing a fine set of bellsconnected with the mechanism of a carillon. 

[Illustration: No. 4, Rue de Dixmude: Ypres]

The interior of the hall was of noble proportions, running the fulllength, its walls decorated by a series of paintings by two modernFlemish painters, which were not of the highest merit, yet good withal. At the market-place end was a highly ornate structure called the NewWork (Nieuwerke), erected by the burghers as a guild-hall in thefifteenth century. This was the first part of the edifice to be ruinedby a German shell. 

The destruction of this exquisite work of art seems entirely wanton andunnecessary. It produced no result whatever of advantage. There wereneither English, French, nor Belgian soldiers in Ypres at the time. Thepopulace consisted of about ten thousand peaceful peasants andshopkeepers, who, trusting in the fact that the town was unarmed andunfortified, remained in their homes. The town was battered anddestroyed, leveled in ashes. The bombardment destroyed also the greatCathedral of Saint Martin adjoining the Cloth Hall, which dated from thethirteenth century [although the tower was not added until the fifteenthcentury]. It formed a very fine specimen of late Gothic, the interiorcontaining some fine oak carving and a richly carved and decorated organloft. Bishop Jansenius, the founder of the sect of Jansenists, is buriedin a Gothic cloister which formed a part of the older church thatoccupied the site. 

Another interesting monument of past greatness was the Hôtel de Ville, erected in the sixteenth century, and containing a large collection ofmodern paintings by French and Belgian artists. Of this structure not atrace remains save a vast blackened pile of crumbled stones and mortar. In the market-place now roam bands of half-starved dogs in search offood; not a roof remains intact. A couple of sentries pace before thehospital at the end of the Grand' Place. A recent photograph in the_Illustrated London News_ taken from an aeroplane shows the ruined townlike a vast honeycomb uncovered, the streets and squares filled withdébris, the fragments of upstanding walls showing where a few months agodwelt in peace and prosperity an innocent, happy people, now scatteredto the four winds--paupers, subsisting upon charity. Their valiant andnoble king and queen are living with the remnant of the Belgian army inthe small fishing village of La Panne on the sand dunes of the NorthSea. 

The unique character of the half-forgotten town was exemplified by thenumber of ancient, wooden-faced houses to be found in the side streets. The most curious of these, perhaps, was that situated near the Porte deLille, which I have mentioned in another page, and which notedarchitects of Brussels and Antwerp vainly petitioned the State toprotect, 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 muralpainters, then engaged in the decorations of the Cloth Hall, joined inprotests to the authorities against their neglect of this remarkableexample of medieval construction, but all these petitions werepigeonholed, and nothing resulted but vain empty promises, so the matterrested, 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 eachother, in 1891. In these decorations the artists traced the history ofYpres from 1187 to 1383, the date of the great siege, showing taste andelegance in the compositions, notably in that called the "Wedding feastof 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 uponthe tolling of the great bell of St. Martin's, to bring out their deadfor burial. 

M. Delbeke's talent was engaged upon scenes illustrating the civil lifeof the town, the gatherings in celebration of the philanthropic andintellectual events in its remarkable history, a task in which he wassuccessful in spite of the carping of envious contemporaries. 

A committee of artists was appointed to examine his work, and althoughthis body decided in his favor, it may be that the criticism to whichhe was subjected hastened his death. At any rate the panels remainedunfinished, no other painter having the courage to carry out theprojected work. 

[Illustration: Arcade of the Cloth Hall: Ypres]

The original sketches for these great compositions were preserved in themuseum of the town, but the detailed drawings, some in color, were, upto the outbreak of the war in 1914, in the Museum of Decorative Arts inBrussels, together with the cartoons of another artist, Charles de Groux(1870), to whom the decoration of the Halles had been awarded by theState in competition. A most sumptuous Gothic apartment was that styledthe "Salle Echevinale, " restored with great skill in recent years by aconcurrence of Flemish artists, members of the Academy. Upon either sideof a magnificent stone mantel, bearing statues in niches of kings, counts and countesses, bishops and high dignitaries, were large wellexecuted frescoes by MM. Swerts and Guffens, showing figures of theevangelists St. Mark and St. John, surrounded by myriads of counts andcountesses of Flanders, from the time of Louis de Nevers and Margaret ofArtois to Charles the Bold, and Margaret of York, whose tombs are in theCathedral at Bruges. The attribution of these frescoes to MelchiorBroederlam does not, it would seem, accord with the style or the date oftheir production, M. Alph. Van den Peereboom thinks, and he givescredit 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. Onboth sides of the narrow street were ancient wooden-fronted houses not awhit less interesting or well preserved than that front erected in thechamber of the "Halles. " This small dark street led to a vast andsolitary square. On one side were lofty edifices called the Colonnade ofthe "Nieuwerck, " at the end of which was a quaint vista of the Grand'Place. On the other side was a range of most wondrous ancientconstructions; the _conciergerie_ and its attendant offices, bearingfinials and gables of astonishing richness of character, and ornamentedwith _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 wasthere 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 halfhour. Then all at once, out of a green doorway next the _conciergerie_, poured a throng of children, whose shrill cries and laughter brought meback to the present. One wonders where now are these merrylight-hearted little ones, who thronged that gray grass-grown squarebehind the old Cloth Hall in 1912. . . . 

In this old square I studied the truly magnificent south portal andtransept of St. Martin's, the triple portal with its splendid polygonalrose window, and its two graceful slender side towers, connecting a longgallery between the two smaller side portals. One's impression of thisgreat edifice is that of a sense of noble proportions, rather thanornateness, and this is to be considered remarkable when one remembersthe different epochs of its construction. That the choir was commencedin 1221 is established by the epitaph of Hugues, _prévôt_ of St. Martin's, whose ashes reposed in the church which he built: that thefirst stone of the nave transepts was laid with ceremony by Margueriteof Constantinople in 1254; that the south portal was of the fifteenthcentury and that a century later the chapel called the _doyen_ towardthe south wall at the foot of the tower, was erected. The tower itself, visible from all parts of the town, was the conception of MartinUntenhoven of Malines, and replaced a more primitive one in 1433. Ofvery severe character, its great bare bulk rose to an unfinished heightof some hundred and seventy feet, and terminated in a squatty sort ofpent-house roof of typical Flemish character. It was flanked by foursmaller, unfinished towers, one at each corner. This tower, one mayrecall, figures in many of the pictures of Jean van Eyck. It is notwithout reason that Schayes, in his "Histoire de l'Architecture enBelgique, " speaks of the choir of St. Martin's as "one of the mostremarkable of the religious constructions of the epoch in Belgium. " Ofmost noble lines and proportion if it were not for the intruding altarscreen in the Jesuit style, which mars the effect, the ensemble werewell-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 atYpres in 1322 and was buried in the church, was uncovered early in theeighties during a restoration; this had been most villainously repaintedby a local "artist"(?); and I mortally offended the young priest whoshowed 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'UrbainTaillebert, a native sculptor of great merit, who also carved the great_Jube_ of Dixmude (see drawing). Other works of Taillebert are no lessremarkable, notably the superb arcade with the Christ triumphantsuspended between the columns at the principal entrance. He was alsothe sculptor of the mausoleum of Bishop Antoine de Hennin, erected in1622 in the choir. 

In the pavement before the altar a plain stone marked the resting placeof the famous Corneille Jansen (Cornelius Jansenius), seventh Bishop ofYpres, who died of the pest the 6th of May, 1638. One recalls that thedoctrine of Jansen gave birth to the sect of that name which stillflourishes 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 bulkrecalling vaguely the belfry of the Cloth Hall. In this church was showna curious little picture, representing the devil setting fire to thetower, which was destroyed in 1638, but was later rebuilt after theoriginal plans. The interior had no dignity of style whatever. Therewere, however, some figures of the saints Peter and Paul attributed toCarel Van Yper, which merited the examination of connoisseurs. They arebelieved by experts to have been the "volets" of a triptych of which thecenter panel was missing. 

[Illustration: Gateway, Wall, and Old Moat: Ypres]

The Place St. Pierre was picturesque and smiling. Following this routewe found on the right at the end of a small street the hospital St. Jean, with an octagonal tower, which enshrined some pictures attributedto the prolific Carel Van Yper, comment upon which would be perhapsout of place here. On the corner of this street was a most charming oldfaçade in process of demolishment, which we deplored. 

Now we reached the Porte de Lille again and the remains of the old wallsof the town. Again and again we followed this same route, each timefinding some new beauty or hidden antiquity which well repaid us forsuch persistence. Few of the towns of Flanders presented such treasuresas were to be found in Ypres. Following the walk on the ramparts, pastthe _caserne_ or infantry barracks, one came upon the place of theancient château of the counts, a vast construction under the name of "deZaalhof. " Here was an antique building called the "Lombard, " dated 1616, covered with old iron "ancres" and crosses between the high small-panedwindows. 

By the Rue de Beurre one regained the Grand' Place, passing through thesilent old Place Van den Peereboom in the center of which was the statueof the old Burgomaster of that name. 

The aspect of this silent grass-grown square behind the Cloth Hall wasmost impressive. Here thronged the burghers of old, notably on theoccasion of the entry of Charles the Bold and his daughter Marguerite, all clad in fur, lace, and velvet to astonish the inhabitants, whoinstead of being impressed, so outshone the visitors, by their own andtheir wives' magnificence of apparel, that Marguerite was reported tohave left the banquet hall in pique. The belfry quite dominated thesquare 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 theancient Beguinage latterly used by the gendarmerie as a station, thelovely old chapel turned into a stable! In this old town were hundredsof remarkable ancient houses, each of which merits description in thisbook. But perhaps in this brief and very fragmentary description thereader may find reason for the author's enthusiasm, and agree with himthat Ypres was perhaps the most unique and interesting of all thedestroyed towns in Flanders. 

Commines

Commines

It was not hard to realize that here we were in the country ofBras-de-Fer, of Memling, of Cuyp, and Thierry d'Alsace, for, ondescending from the halting, bumping train at the small brick station, we were face to face with a bizarre, bulbous-topped tower rising abovethe houses surrounding a small square, and now quite crowded with large, hollow-backed, thick-legged Flemish horses, which might have been thoseof the followers of Thierry gathered in preparation for an onslaughtupon one of the neighboring towns. 

It seemed as though any turning might bring us face to face with a grimcohort of mounted armed men in steel corselet and morion, bearing thebanner of Spanish Philip, so sinister were the narrow, ill-pavedstreets, darkened by the projecting second stories of the somber, gray-stone houses. Rarely was there an open door or window. As wepassed, our footsteps on the uneven stones awakened the echoes. A finedrizzle of rain which began to fall upon us from the leaden sky did nottend to enliven us, and we hastened toward the small Grand' Place, whereI noted on a sign over a doorway the words, "In de Leeuw Van Vlanderen"(To the Flemish Lion), which promised at least shelter from therainfall. Here we remained until the sun shone forth. 

Commines (Flemish, Komen) was formerly a fortified town of someimportance in the period of the Great Wars of Flanders. It was thebirthplace of Philip de Commines (1445-1509). It was, so to say, one ofthe iron hinges upon which the great military defense system of theburghers swung and creaked in those dark days. To-day, in these richfields about the small town, one can find no traces of the old-timebastions which so well guarded the town from Van Artevelde's assaults. Inside the town were scarcely any trees, an unusual feature forFlanders, and on the narrow waterways floated but few craft. 

The only remarkable thing by virtue of its Renaissance style ofarchitecture was the belfry and clock tower, although some of the oldFlemish dwelling houses in the market square, projecting over an ogivalColonnade extending round one end of the square, and covering a sort offootway, were of interest, uplifting their step-like gables as a silentbut eloquent protest against a posterity devoid of style, all of them tothe right and left falling into line like two wings of stone in order toallow the carved front of the belfry to make a better show, and itspinnacled tower to rise the prouder against the sky. 

One was struck with the ascendency of the religious element over allforms of art, and this was a characteristic of the Flemings. One waseverywhere confronted with a curious union of religion and war, representations peopled exclusively by seraphic beings surrounded oraccompanied by armed warriors. Everything is adoration, resignation, incense fumes, psalmody, and crusaders. The greatest buildings we sawwere ecclesiastical, the richest dresses were church vestments, even"the princes and burghers accompanied by armed knights remind one ofecclesiastics celebrating the Mass. All the women are holy virgins, seemingly. The chasm between the ideal and the reality itself, howeveridealized, but by meditation manifested pictorially. " ("The Land ofRubens, " 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 clearingsomewhat we fared forth to explore the belfry, which in spite of itssadly neglected state was still applied to civic use. Some dark, heavy, oaken beams in the ceiling of the principal room showed delicatelycarved, fancy heads, some of them evidently portraits. At the rear ofthe tower on the ground floor, I came upon a vaulted apartment supportedon columns, and being used as a storehouse. Its construction was sohandsome, it was so beautifully lighted from without, as to make onegrieve for its desecration; it may have served in the olden time as arefectory, and if so was doubtless the scene of great festivity in thetime of Philip de Commines, who was noted for the magnificence of hisentertainments. 

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 twohundred years to complete. How long this great tower of Commines took, Ican only conjecture. Its semi-oriental pear-shaped (or onion-shaped, asyou will) tower was certainly of great antiquity; even the unkemptlittle priest whom I questioned in the Grand' Place could give me littleor no information concerning it. Indeed, he seemed to be on the point ofresenting my questions, as though he thought that I was in some waypoking fun at him. I presume that it was the scene of great splendor intheir early days. For here a count of Flanders or a duke of Brabantexercised sovereign rights, and at such a ceremony as the laying of acorner-stone assumed the place of honor, although the real authority waswith the burghers, and founded upon commerce. While granting thisprivilege, the Flemings ever hated autocracy. They loved pomp, but anyattempt 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 atclassification, ranges it among the Gothic by reason of its pointedwindows. The Hall usually is a defenceless feudal castle without moats, without porticullis, without loopholes. It occupies the center of amarket-place. It is a temple of peace, its windows are as numerous asthose 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 thebelfry, the transparent habitation of the alarm bell (as well as thechimes). The belfry cannot defend itself, a military character isforeign to it. But as warden of civic liberty it can, at the approach ofdomination from without, or autocracy uplifting its head within, awakenthe threatened ones, and call them to arms in its own defence. Thebelfry is thus a symbol of a society expecting happiness from neither adynasty nor from a military despotism, but solely from commoninstitutions, from commerce and industry, from a citizen's life, buddingin the shadow of the peaceful church, and borrowing its peacefularchitecture from it. To the town halls of Flanders belonged the placeof honor among the monuments of Belgian architecture. No other countryof Europe offered so rich a variety in that respect. 

"Courtrai replaces Arras; Oudenaarde and Ypres follow suit. Then comeTournai, Bruges, Ghent, Antwerp, Brussels, Louvain. Primary Gothic, secondary Gothic, tertiary Gothic, satisfying every wish. Flanders andBrabant called the communal style into life. If ever Europe becomes acommune, the communards have but to go to Ypres to find motifs fromtheir architects. "

Since this was written, in 1914, many, if not most, of these greatbuildings thus enumerated above, are now in ruins, utterly destroyed forall time!

Bergues

Bergues

A tiny sleepy town among the fringe of great willow trees which markedthe site of the ancient walls. Belted by its crumbling ramparts, andlike a quaint gem set in the green enamel of the smiling landscape, itoffered 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 mostremarkable belfries to be found in the Netherlands, and a chime of sweetbells, whose melodious sounds haunted our memories for days after ourlast visit in 1910. 

There were winding, silent streets bordered by mysteriously closed andshuttered houses, but mainly these were small and of the peasant order. On the Grand' Place, for of course there was one, the tower sprang froma collection of rather shabby buildings, of little or no character, butthis did not seem to detract from the magnificence of the great tower. Iuse the word "great" too often, I fear, but can find no other word inthe 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 ateach corner, these being in turn covered with arcatures of the samecharacter. These flanked the large open-work, gilded, clock face. Surmounting this upon a platform was a construction in the purelyFlemish style, containing the chime of bells, and the machinery of thecarillon, and topping all was a sort of inverted bulb or gourd-shapedturret, covered with blue slate, with a gilded weathervane about whichthe rooks flew in clouds. 

The counterpart of this tower was not to be found anywhere in theNetherlands, 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 andstolid festivities of the "Kermesse, " which is now of interest here onlyto the laboring class and the small farmers of the region. The center ofattraction, as we found in several other towns, seemed to be anincredibly fat woman emblazoned on a canvas as the "Belle Heloise" whowas seated upon a sort of throne draped in red flannel, and exhibited apair of extremities resembling in size the masts of a ship, to the greatwonder of the peasants. There were also some shabby merry-go-rounds withwheezy organs driven by machinery, and booths in which hard-featuredshow women were frying waffles in evil smelling grease. After buyingsome of these for the children who stood about with watering mouths, we left the "Kermesse" and wandered away down a silent street towards asmaller tower rising from a belt of dark trees. 

This we found to be the remains of the ancient abbey of St. Winoc. Avery civil mannered young priest who overtook us on the road informed usof this, and volunteered further the information that we were in whatwas undoubtedly the ancient _jardin-clos_ of the Abbey. Of this retreatonly the two towers standing apart in the long grass remained, one veryheavy and square, supported by great buttresses of discolored brick, theother octangular, in stages, and retaining its high graceful steeple. 

We were unable to gain entrance to either of these towers, the doorwaysbeing choked with weeds and the débris of fallen masonry. [The invadersdestroyed both of these fine historical remains in November, 1914, alleging that they were being used for military observation by theBelgian army. ] These small towns of Flanders had a simple dignity oftheir own which was of great attraction to the tourist, who could, without disillusionment, imagine himself back in the dim past. In thewayside inns or _estaminets_ one could extract amusement and profitlistening to the peasantry or admiring the sunlight dancing upon thearray of bottles and glass on the leaden counters, or watch thepeasants kneel and cross themselves before the invariable quaint nichedfigure of the Virgin and Child under the hanging lighted lantern at astreet corner, the evidence of the piety of the village, or the throngsof lace-capped, rosy-cheeked milkmaids with small green carts drawn bylarge, 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 in1914 was a high square weather-beaten tower, somewhat ruinous, built ofstone and brick in strata, showing the different eras of construction inthe various colors of the brick work ranging from light reds to darkbrowns 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. Repeatedlyattacked and set on fire, it escaped complete destruction, althoughnearly laid in ruins by the English and burghers of Ghent in 1383, theyear of the famous siege of Ypres. During the Wars of 1600, it was animportant part of the fortifications, and from the platform of its towerthe Spanish garrison commanded a clear view of the surrounding countryand the distance beyond the broad moat, which then surrounded the strongwalls of Nieuport. 

In plain view from this tower top were the houses of Furnes, groupedabout the church of Saint Nicolas to the southwest, while to the norththe wide belt of dunes, or sand hills, defended the plains from theNorth Sea. Nearer were the populous villages of Westende andLombaerd-Zyde, connected with Nieuport by numerous small lakes andcanals derived from the channel of the Yser river, which flowed past thetown on its way to the sea. 

[Illustration: The Tower of the Templars: Nieuport]

The history of Nieuport, from the terrible days of the Spanish invasiondown to these days of even worse fate, has been pitiable. Its former seatrade after the Spanish invasion was never recovered, and itspopulation, which was beginning to be thrifty and prosperous up to 1914, has now entirely disappeared. Nieuport is now in ashes and ruins. When Ipassed 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 andon the waysides, mending nets, and knitting heavy woolen socks orsweaters of dark blue. In the small harbor were the black hulls offishing boats tied up to the quaysides, and a small steamer from Ghoolewas taking on a cargo of potatoes and beets. Some barges laden with woodwere 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 fangsand bloodshot eyes when I stopped to talk to the steersman, who sat onthe tiller smoking a short, evil-smelling pipe, while his "vrouwe" washanging out a heavy wash of vari-colored garments on a line from thestaff on the bow to a sweep fastened upright to the cabin wall. 

The ancient fortification had long since disappeared--those "impregnablewalls of stone" which once defended the town from the assaults of Philipthe Second. I found with some difficulty a few grass-grown mounds wherethey had been, and only the gray, grim tower of the Templars, standingsolitary in a turnip field, remained to show what had been a mightystronghold. In the town, however, were souvenirs enough to occupy anantiquary for years to his content and profit. There was the Cloth Hall, with its five pointed low arched doorways from which passed in and outthe Knights of the Temple gathered for the first pilgrimage to the HolyLand. On this market square too was the great Gothic Church, one of thelargest and most important in all Flanders, and on this afternoon in thesummer of 1910, I attended a service here, while in the tower a bellringer played the chime of famous bells which now lie in brokenfragments amid the ashes of the fallen tower. 

Here was fought the bloody "Battle of the Dunes, " between the Dutch andthe Spaniards in those dim days of long ago, when the stubborndetermination of the Netherlanders overcame the might and fiery valor ofthe Spanish invaders. 

From time to time the peasants laboring in the fields uncovered bones, broken steel breast-plates, and weapons, which they brought to themuseum on the Grand' Place, and which the sleepy _custode_ showed mewith reluctance, until I offered him a franc. It is curious that famousNieuport, for which so much blood was shed in those early days, shouldagain have been a famous battle ground between the handful of valiantsoldiers of the heroic King Albert and a mighty Teutonic foe. 

The dim gray town with its silent streets, the one time home of romanceand chivalry, the scene of deeds of knightly valor, is now done forforever. It is not likely that it can ever again be of importance, forits harbor is well-nigh closed by drifting sand. But I shall always keepthe vision I had of it that summer day, in its market place, its gabledhouses against the luminous sky, its winding streets, and narrow bywaysacross which the roofs almost touch each other. The ancient palaces arenow in ruins, and the peaceful population scattered abroad, charges uponthe charity of the world. Certainly a woeful picture in contrast to thecontent of other days. 

The vast green plains behind the dunes, or sand hills, extend unbrokenlyfrom here to the French frontier, spire after spire dominating smalltowns, and windmills, are the objects seen. To some the flatness is mostmonotonous, but to those who find pleasure in the paintings of Cuyp, thecountry is very picturesque. The almost endless succession of green, well-cultivated fields and farmsteads is most entertaining, and the manycanals winding their silvery ways through the country, between rows ofpollards; the well kept though small country houses embowered in woodyenclosures; the fruitful orchards in splendid cultivation; the gardensfilled with fair flowers and the "most compact little towns"--these givethe 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 grounddedicated to Thor or Wodin. This part of the country bordering the fiftymile stretch of coast line on the North Sea was given over latterly tothe populous bathing establishments and their new communities, but theother localities, such as Tournai, Courtrai, Oudenaarde or Alost, wereseldom visited by strangers, whose advent created almost as muchexcitement as it would in Timbuctoo. It was not inaccessible, but theroads were not good for automobiles; they were mainly paved with rough"Belgian" blocks of stone, high in the center, with a dirt roadway oneither side, used by the peasants and quite rutty. 

A walking tour for any but the hardiest pedestrian was out of thequestion, so I was told that the best way for a "bachelor" traveler wasto secure transportation on the canal boats. This was the warning thatour kind hearted landlord in Antwerp gave us, after vainly endeavoringto 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 thereader's imagination. 

In addition to the main lines of the State Railway, there were what arecalled "Chemins-de-fer-vicinaux, " small narrow gauge railways whichtraversed Belgium in all directions. On these the fares were veryreasonable, and they formed an ideal way in which to study the countryand the people. There were first, second and third class carriages onthese, hung high on tall wheels, which looked very unsafe, but were notreally so. The classes varied only in the trimming of the windows, andquality of the cushions on the benches. Rarely if ever, were thosemarked "I Klasse" used. Those of the second class were used sometimes;but the third class cars were generally very crowded with peasantry, whowhile invariably good humored and civil were certainly evil smelling, and intolerant of open windows and fresh air. The men and boys generallysmoked a particularly vile-smelling black tobacco, of which they seemedvery fond, and although some of the cars were marked "Niet rooken" (nosmoking) 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 Antwerpand Brabant. The race seemed purer, and the peasants used the pureFlemish tongue. Few of the elders I found spoke French fluently, although the children used it freely to each other, of courseunderstanding and speaking Flemish also. 

There were various newspapers published in the Flemish languageexclusively. These, however, were very primitive, given over entirely topurely local brevities, and the prices of potatoes, beets and othercommodities, and containing also a "feuilleton" of interest to thefarmers and laborers. 

There were several "organs" of the Flemish Patriotic party devoted tothe conservation and preservation of the Flemish language and theancient traditions, which were powerful among the people, although theircirculation could not have been very profitable. The peasantry in truthwere very ignorant, and knew of very little beyond their own parishes. The educational standard of the people of West Flanders was certainlylow, and it was a matter of comment among the opponents of theestablished church, that education being in the hands of the clergy, they invariably defeated plans for making it compulsory. Butnevertheless, the peasantry were to all appearances both contented andfairly happy. 

As their wants were few and primitive, their living was cheap. Theirfare was coffee, of which they consumed a great deal, black bread, saltpork and potatoes. The use of oleomargarine was universal in place ofbutter. They grew tobacco in their small gardens for their own use, andalso, it is whispered, smuggled it [and gin] over the border intoFrance. They worked hard and long from five in the morning until sevenor eight in the evening. 

The Flemish farmhouse was generally well built, if somewhat untidylooking, with the pigstys and out buildings in rather too closeproximity for comfort. There was usually a large living room with heavysooty beams overhead, and thick walls pierced by quaint deeply sunkenwindows furnished often with seats. These picturesque rooms oftencontained "good finds" of the old Spanish furniture, and brass; but as arule the dealers had long since bought up all the old things, replacingthem by "brummagem, "--modern articles shining with cheap varnish. 

The peasants themselves in their everyday clothes certainly did notimpress the observer greatly. They were not picturesque, they wore thesabôt or "Klompen, " yellow varnished, and clumsy in shape. Theirstockings were coarse gray worsted. Their short trousers were usuallytied 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 thinstuff. 

The usual headgear was for the men a cap with a glazed peak and for thewomen and girls a wide flapped embroidered linen cap, but this headgearwas worn only in the country towns and villages. Elsewhere the costumewas fast disappearing. On Sundays when dressed in their holiday clothesthese peasants going to or returning from mass, looked respectable andfairly prosperous, and it was certainly clear that although poor inworldly goods, these animated and laughing throngs were far from beingunhappy 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 itsgreat beauty, for it had none, but for its quaintness, in the singularcombination of several styles of architecture. Without going into anydetails its attraction was in what might be called its venerablecoquettishness, --bizarre, one might have styled it, but that the wordconveys some hint of lack of dignity. One is at a loss just how tocharacterize its attractiveness. Against the sky its towers and minaretsheld 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 thestructure with its beautiful Renaissance façade and portal and quitedominate it. 

My note book says that it dated from the fifteenth century, and itsappearance certainly bore evidence of this statement. It had beenerected in sections at various periods, and these periods were marked inthe various courses of brick, showing every variety of tone of dullreds, buffs, and mellow purplish browns. The effect was quitedelightful. The tower contained a fine carillon of bells arranged on arather bizarre platform, giving a most quaint effect to the turret whichsurmounted it. The face of the tower bore four niches, two at each sideof the center and upper windows, and these contained time worn statuesof the noble counts of Alost. On the wall below was a tablet bearing theinscription "Ni Espoir, Ni Craint, " and this I was told referred eitherto the many sieges which the town suffered, or a pestilence whichdepopulated the whole region. A huge gilt clock face shone below theupper gallery, at each corner of which sprang a stone gargoyle. 

The old square upon which this tower was placed was quite in keepingwith it. There were rows of gabled stone houses of great antiquity, still inhabited, stretching away in an array of façades, gables, andmost 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 firstprinting house in Flanders. " From this press issued a translation of theHoly Bible, which was preserved in the Museum of Brussels, together withother fine specimens of his skill. A very good statue in bronze to thismaster printer was in the center of the market place, and on theoccasion of my last visit, there was a sort of carnival in the town, with a great gathering of farmers and merchants and their families fromthe surrounding country all gathered about the square, which was filledwith wagons, horses, booths, and merry-go-rounds, above which the statueof the old master printer appeared in great dignity. There was a greatconsumption of beer and waffles at the small _estaminets_, and thechimes in the belfry played popular songs at intervals to the delight ofthese simple happy people, all unaware of the great catastrophe of thewar into which they were about to be plunged. 

A disastrous conflagration destroyed most of Alost in 1360, andthereafter history deals with the fury of the religious wars conductedby the Spanish against Alost, a most strongly fortified town. The storyof the uniting of these Spanish troops under the leadership of Juan deNavarese is well known. Burning and sacking and murder were the sad lotof Alost and its unfortunate citizens, who had hardly recovered, ere theDuke d'Alençon arrived before the walls with his troops, bent uponmischief. The few people remaining after his onslaught died like fliesduring the plague which broke out the following year, and the town bidfair to vanish forever. 

Rubens painted a large and important picture based upon the destructionof Alost, and this work was hanging in the old church of St. Martin justbefore the outbreak of the war in 1914. Its fate is problematical, forSt. Martin's Church was razed to the ground in the bombardment in1914-15, the charge being the usual one that the tower was used formilitary purposes by the French. 

This old church with its curious bulbous tower cap was at the end of asmall street, and my last view of it was on the occasion of a churchfête in which some dignitaries were present, for I saw them all clad inscarlet and purple walking beneath silken canopies attended by priestsbearing lighted lanterns (although the sun was shining brightly at thetime) and acolytes swinging fragrant smoking censers. We were directedto a rather shabby looking hostelry, over the door of which was anemblazoned 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. Thehotel was a wretched one and the meal furnished us was in character withit. We were waited on by a sour, taciturn old man who bore a dirty towelon his arm, as a sort of badge of office, I presume. He nodded or shookhis head as the case might demand, but not a word could I extract fromhim. At the close of our meal, which we dallied over, waiting for therain to cease, I called for the bill, which was produced after a longwait, and proved to be, as I anticipated, excessive. We had coffee andhot milk and some cold chicken and salad. This repast, for two, came totwelve francs. And as the "chicken" had reached its old age long before, and the period of its roasting must have taken place at an uncertaindate, this, together with the fact that the lettuce was wilted, placedthese items upon the proscribed list for us. The coffee and hot milk, however, was good and, thus revived and rested, I paid the bill withoutprotest, and having retained the carriage which we hired at the station, I bundled our belongings into it. I had resolved not to tip the surlyold fellow, but a gleam in his eye made me hesitate. Then I weakened andgave him a franc. 

To my amazement he said in excellent English: "I thank you, sir; you area kind, good and patient man, and madam is a most charming and graciouslady. 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 shakinghis head he vanished into the doorway of the hotel. Driving away, Iglanced up at the windows, where behind the curtains I thought I sawseveral faces watching us furtively. It might be that we had missed anadventure in coming away. Had I been alone I should have chanced it, forthe old waiter interested me with his sudden confidence and his commandof English. But whatever his story might have been, it must ever be tome a closed book. Quaint Alost among the trees is now a heap ofblackened ruins. 

Courtrai

Courtrai

The two large and impressive stone towers flanking a bridge of threearches over the small sluggish river Lys were those of the celebratedBroël, dating from the fourteenth century. The towers were calledrespectively the "Speytorre" and the "Inghelbrugtorre. " The first namedon the south side of the river formed part of the ancient "enceinte" ofthe first château of Philip of Alsace, and was erected in the twelfthcentury, and famed with the château of Lille, as the most formidablestrongholds of Flanders. The "Inghelbrugtorre" was erected in 1411-13, and strongly resembles its sister tower opposite. It was furnished withloopholes for both archers and for "arquebusiers, " as well as openingsfor the discharge of cannon and the casting of molten pitch and leadupon the heads of besiegers after the fashion of warfare as conductedduring the wars of the Middle Ages. The Breton soldiers under Charlesthe Eleventh attacked and almost razed this great stronghold in 1382. 

A sleepy old _custode_ whom we aroused took us down into horribledungeons, where, with a dripping tallow candle, he showed us some ironrings attached to the dripping walls below the surface of the riverwhere prisoners of state were chained in former times, and told us thatthe walls here were three or four yards thick. The town was one ofbeauty and great charm, and here we stopped for a week in a mostdelightfully kept small hotel on the square, which was bordered withfine large trees, both linden and chestnut. 

The town was famed in history for the Great Battle of the Spurs whichtook place outside the walls, in the year 1302, on the plains ofGroveninghe. History mentions the fact that "seven hundred golden spurswere 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 ofthe ancient walls, was put to practical use by the inhabitants in thepreparation 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 ithad some thirty-five thousand inhabitants. In the middle of thebeflowered Grand' Place stood a quaint brick belfry containing a goodchime of bells, and on market days when surrounded with the farmers'green wagons and the lines of booths about which the people gatheredchaffering, its appearance was picturesque enough to satisfy anyone, even the most blasé of travelers. The belfry had four large gilt clockfaces, and its bells could be plainly seen through the windows hangingfrom the huge beams. On the tower were gilded escutcheons, and a coupleof armor-clad statues in niches. There was a fine church dedicated toNotre Dame, which was commenced by Baldwin in 1199, and a very beautiful"Counts Chapel" with rows of statues of counts and countesses ofFlanders whose very names were forgotten. 

Here was one of the few remaining "Beguinages" of Flanders, which wemight have overlooked but for the kindness of a passerby who, seeingthat we were strangers, pointed out the doorway to us. 

On either hand were small houses through the windows of which one couldsee old women sitting bowed over cushions rapidly moving the bobbinsover 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 ofSt. Bogga. And here about a small grass grown square in which was astatue of the saint, dwelt a number of self-sacrificing women, bound byno vow, who had consecrated their lives to the care of the sick andneedy. 

We spent an hour in this calm and fragrant retreat, where there was nonoise save the sweet tolling of the convent bell, and the cooing ofpigeons on the ridge pole of the chapel. 

In the square before the small station was a statue, which afterquestioning a number of people without result, I at length found to bethat of Jean Palfyn who, my informant assured me, was the inventor ofthe forceps, and expressed surprise that I should be so interested instatuary as to care "who it was. " He asked me if I was not English andwhen I answered that I was an American, looked somewhat dazed, much asif I had said "New Zealander" or "Kamschatkan, " and was about to ask mesome further question, but upon consideration thought better of it, andturned away shrugging his shoulders. 

To show how well the river Lys is loved by the people, I quote here asort 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 fecundwaters reflecting the blue of our wondrous Flemish landscape. Active anddiligent servant, it seems to work ever to our advantage, multiplying inits charming sinuosities its power for contributing to our prosperity, accomplishing our tasks, and granting our needs. It gives to our livesammunition and power. The noise of busy mills and the movement of bodiesof workmen in its banks is sweet music in our ears, in tune to therippling of its waters. 

"A silver ribbon starred with the blue corn-flower, the supple textilebaptised in its soft waters is transformed by the hand of man intocloudy lace, into snowy linen, into fabrics of filmy lightness for mylady's wear, La Lys, name significant and fraught with poetry forus--giving life to the germ of the flax which it conserves through allits life better than any art of the chemist in the secret chambers ofhis laboratory. 

"Thanks to this gracious river, our lovely town excels in napery and isknown throughout all the world. In harvest time the banks of the Lys arethronged with movement, the harvesters in quaint costumes, their bodiesmoving rhythmically to the words of the songs they sing, swinging theheavy bundles of flax from the banks to the level platforms, where it isallowed to sleep in the water, and later the heavy wagons are loaded tothe cadence of other songs appropriate to the work. Large picturesquecolored windmills wave their brown velvety hued sails against the piledup 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 Flemishplains about Courtrai, giving their daily bread to the peasants, andlending poetry to their existence. So, O Lys, our beautiful benefactor, we love you. "

At this writing (March, 1916) Courtrai is still occupied by the troopsof the German Kaiser, and with the exception of the destruction of theBroël towers, the church of St. Martin, and the Old Belfry in the marketplace, the town is said to be "intact. "

Whenever possible we traveled through the Flemish littoral on the smallsteam trams, "chemins-de-fer-vicinaux, " as they are called in French, inthe Flemish tongue "Stoomtram, " passing through fertile green meadowsdotted with fat, sleek, black and white cows, and embossed with shiningsilvery waterways connecting the towns and villages. We noticed Englishycottages of white stucco and red tiled roofs, amid well kept fields andmarket gardens in which both men and women seemed to toil from dawn todewy evening. Flanders before the war was simply covered with theselight railways. The little trains of black carriages drawn by puffingcovered motors, discharging heavy black clouds of evil-smelling smokeand oily soot, rushed over the country from morning until night, and theclanging 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, forone had to wait in the squares of the small towns, or at other centralplaces until the corresponding motor arrived before the journey couldproceed. Here there was a sort of exchange established where thefarmers compared notes as to the rise or fall in commodities, orperchance the duty upon beets and potatoes. 

Loud and vehement was the talk upon these matters; really, did one notknow the language, one might have fancied that a riot was imminent. 

One morning we halted at a small village called Gheluwe, where the trainstopped beside a white-washed wall, and everyone got out, as the customis. There seemed no reason for stopping here, for we were at somedistance from the village, the spire of which could be seen above a beltof heavy trees ahead. The morning was somewhat chilly, and the onlyother occupant of the compartment was a young cleric with a soiled whitenecktie. He puffed away comfortably at a very thin, long, andevil-smelling "stogie" which he seemed to enjoy immensely, and which inthe Flemish manner he seemed to eat as he smoked, eyeing us the whileamicably though absent mindedly, as if we were far removed from hisvicinity. As we neared the stopping place, two very jolly young farmerboys raced with the train in their quaint barrow-like wagon painted abright green, and drawn by a pair of large dogs who foamed and pantedpast us "ventre à terre, " with red jaws and flopping tongues. 

Had we not known of this breed of dogs we might have fancied, as manystrangers do, that Flemish dogs are badly treated, but this is not thecase. These dogs are very valuable, worth sometimes as much as fivehundred francs (about $100). 

Inspections of these dogs are held regularly by the authorities. Thestraps and the arrangement of the girths are tested lest they shouldchafe the animal, and, I am told, the law now requires that a piece ofcarpet be carried for the animal to lie upon when resting, and adrinking bowl also has been added to the equipment of each cart. Thedogs do not suffer. They are bred for the cart, and are called "_chiensde traite_, " so that the charge of cruelty upon the part of ignoranttourists may be dismissed as untrue. There is a society for theprevention of cruelty to animals, and it is not unusual to see its signdisplayed in the market places, with the caution "_Traitez les animauxavec douceur_. " Rarely if ever is a case brought into court by thewatchful police. 

The young cleric gazed at us inquiringly, as if he expected to hear usexclaim about the cruelty to animals, but catching his eye I smiled, andsaid something about "_ces bons chiens_, " at which he seemed relieved, and nodded back grinning, but he did not remove the stogie from hismouth. 

Priests in Flanders seemed to enjoy much liberty of action, and dothings not possible elsewhere. For instance, at Blankenberghe, afashionable watering place on the coast, I saw a prosperous, well-fedone (if I may so characterize him without meaning any offense) dining atthe Great Gasthof on the digue, who after finishing his _filet auxchampignons_, with a bottle of _Baune superior_, ordered his "_demitasse_" with _fine champagne_, and an Havana cigar which cost him notless than three francs (sixty cents) which he smoked like a connoisseurwhile he listened to the fine military band playing in the Kiosk. Andwhy not, if you please?

We remained for nearly twenty minutes beside this white wall at theroadside, the animated discussions of the farmers continuing, for thegroup was constantly augmented by fresh arrivals who meant to travelwith us or back to the town from which we had come. It was here that wesaw the first stork in Flanders, where indeed they are uncommon. Thisone had a nest in a large tree nearby. One of the boys shied a smallstone at him as he flapped overhead, but, I think, without any idea ofhitting him. The peasants assembled here eyed us narrowly. They probedme and my belongings with eyes of corkscrew penetration, but since thiscountry of theirs was a show place to me, I argued that I had no rightto object to their making in return a show of me. But such scrutiny isnot comfortable, especially if one is seated in a narrow compartment, and the open-mouthed _vis à vis_ gazes at one with steely bluish greenunwinking eyes--somewhat red rimmed. Especially if such scrutiny isaccompanied by free comments upon one's person, delivered in a voice sopitched as to convey the information to all the other occupants, andmayhap the engine driver ahead. 

The other train at length arrived, there was an interchange of occupantsand then we proceeded amid heavy clouds of thick black smoke which, fora time, the wind blew with us. Across the tilled fields are narrow pathsleading to dykes and roads. There are many green ditches filled withwater and in them we could see rather heavy splashes from time to time. These we discovered were made by large green bull frogs--really monstersthey were, too. Of course we were below the sea level here, but onecannot credit the old story about the boy who plugged the dyke with histhumb, thereby saving the whole country. 

The dykes are many feet high and as the foundation is composed of heavyblack stones, then layers of great red bricks and tiles, and finallyturf and large willow branches interlaced most cunningly like giantbasket work, such a story is impossible. 

My _vis à vis_, all the while regarding me unwinkingly, overheard mespeak 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 andthereafter related to the others that he had conversed with thestrangers, who were English, and were traveling for pleasure, being_enormously rich_. I think thereafter he enjoyed the reputation of beingan accomplished linguist. So, pleasantly did we amble along the narrowlittle steam tramway through luxurious green fields and smiling fertilelandscape of the Flemish littoral in our well rewarded search for thequaint and the unusual. 

The Gothic Town Hall, a remarkable construction on the Grand' Place, anderected 1526, has been restored with a great amount of good taste inrecent years, and the statues on its façade have been replaced with suchskill that one is not conscious of modern work. 

The great Hall of the Magistrates on the ground floor, with itsmagnificent furniture, and the admirable modern mural paintings by theFlemish artists Guffens and Severts (1875) was worth a journey to see. The most noteworthy of these paintings represented the "Departure ofBaldwin IX, " Count of Flanders, at the beginning of the Fourth Crusadein 1202, and the "Consultation of the Flemish, before the great Battleof the Spurs" in 1302. 

In this chamber is a remarkable Renaissance mantelpiece, which isembellished with the arms of the Allied Towns of Bruges and Ghent, between which are the standard bearers of the doughty Knights ofCourtrai, and two statues of the Archduke Albert and his Lady, allsurrounding a statue of the Holy Virgin. 

On the upper floor is the Council Chamber, in which is anothermantelpiece hardly less ornate and interesting, and executed in what maybe called the "flamboyant" manner in rich polychrome. It is dated 1527and was designed by (one of the) Keldermans (?). 

It has rows or ranges of statuary said to represent both the Vices andthe Virtues. Below are reliefs indicating the terrible punishmentinflicted upon those who transgress. Statues of Charles V, the InfantaIsabella, and others are on _corbels_. 

Very large drawn maps of the ancient town and its dependencies cover thewalls, and these are dated 1641. [1]

Termonde (Dendermonde)

Termonde (Dendermonde)

A strange half deserted little town on the right bank of the riverScheldt, clustered about a bridge, on both sides of a small sluggishstream called the "Dendre, " where long lines of women were washingclothes the live-long day, and chattering like magpies the while. AGrand' 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 outsidethe walls, which are fortifications. Two good pictures in old church ofNotre Dame, by Van Dyck, 'Crucifixion' and an 'Adoration of theShepherds' (1635). Fine Hôtel de Ville, with five gables and sculptureddecoration. Also belfry of the fourteenth century. "

Termonde is famed throughout Flanders as the birthplace of the "Foursons of Aymon, " and the exploits of the great horse Bayard. The legendof the Four Sons of Aymon is endeared to the people, and they never tireof relating the story in song as well as prose. Indeed this legend isperhaps the best preserved of all throughout Flanders. It dates from thetime of Charlemagne, the chief of the great leaders of Western Europe, whose difficulty in governing and keeping in subjection and order hiswarlike and turbulent underlords and vassals is a matter of historyknown to almost every schoolboy. 

Among these vassal lordlings, whose continued raids and grindingexactions caused him most anxious moments, was a certain Duke (Herzog)called Aymon, who had four sons, named Renault, Allard, Guichard, andRicard, all of most enormous stature and prodigious strength. Of theseRenault was the tallest, the strongest, the most agile, and the mostcunning. 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 theair, squeeze him to death. " This was one of his favorite tricks with theenemy in battle. 

Aymon had a brother named Buves who dwelt in Aigremont, which is nearHuy, and one may still see there the castle of Aymon, who was alsocalled the Wild Boar of the Ardennes. This brother Buves in a fit ofanger against Charlemagne for some fancied slight, sent an insultingmessage to the latter, refusing his command to accompany him on hisexpedition against the Saracens, which so exasperated Charlemagne thathe sent one of his sons to remonstrate with Buves and if need be, tothreaten him with vengeance, in case he persisted in refusing. Buves wasready, and without waiting to receive his message, he met the messengerhalf way and promptly murdered him. 

Then Charlemagne, in a fury, sent a large and powerful body of men topunish Buves, who was killed in the battle which took place atAigremont. Thereupon the four sons of Aymon met and over their swordsswore vengeance against Charlemagne, and betook themselves to thefastnesses of the Ardennes, in which they built for themselves the greatCastle of Montfort which is said to have been even stronger than thatcalled Aigremont. 

On the banks of the river Ourthe may still be seen the great gray bulkof its ruins. About this stronghold they constructed high walls, andthere they sent out challenges defying the great Emperor. 

Now each of the four sons had his own fashion of fighting. Renaultfought best on horseback, and to him Maugis son of Buves brought a greathorse named Bayard ("Beiaard" in Flemish) of magic origin, possessed ofdemoniac powers, among which was the ability to run like the wind andnever grow weary. Here in this stronghold the four sons of Aymon dwelt, making occasional sallies against the vassals of Charlemagne, until atlength the Emperor gathered a mighty force of soldiers and horses andengines and scaling ladders, and, surrounding the stronghold, at lengthsucceeded in capturing it. 

Tradition says that among Charlemagne's retinue was Aymon himself, andintimates that it was by the father's treachery that the four mightysons were almost captured, but at any rate the great castle of Montfortwas reduced to ashes and ruin, and only the fact of Renault's taking theother brothers on the back of the wondrous horse Bayard saved them allfrom the Emperor's fury. So they escaped into Gascony, where theyindependently attacked the Saracens and drove them forth and extendedtheir swords to the King of Gascony, Yon, who treacherously deliveredthem in chains over to Charlemagne. These chains they broke and threw inthe Emperor's face, fighting their way to freedom with their bare hands. 

History thereafter is silent as to their end. Of Renault it is knownonly that he became a friar at Cologne, where his skill and strengthwere utilized by the authorities in building the walls, and that one daywhile at work, some masons whom he had offended crept up behind him andpushed him off a great height into the River Rhine, and thus he wasdrowned. Years afterward the Church canonized him, and in Westphalia atDortmund may be seen a monument erected in his memory extolling hisprowess, 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, theEmperor deliberated what he should do with it, since it refused to beridden. Finally he ordered that the largest mill stone in the regionshould be made fast to its neck by heavy chains, and that it should thenbe cast into the River Meuse. 

Bayard contemptuously shook off the heavy stone and with steam pouringfrom his nostrils, gave three neighs of derision and triumph and, climbing the opposite bank, vanished into the gloom of the forest wherenone dared follow. Of the immortality of this great horse history isemphatic 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 sincebeheld him. "

And now yearly on the Grand' Place at Termonde there is a great festivaland procession in his honor depicting the chief incidents of his lifeand mighty deeds, while, at Dinaut, on the River Meuse, the scene ofsome of his mightiest deeds, may still be seen the great Rock Bayard, standing more than forty yards high and separated from the face of themountain by a roadway cut by Louis the Sixteenth, who cared little forlegends. From the summit of this great needle of rock sprang the horseBayard, flying before the forces of Charlemagne with the four brotherson 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 thispicturesque festival. Songs of Bayard and his prowess were sung in thestreets by various musical societies, each of which carried huge bannersbearing their titles and honors, and some curious frameworks on poleswhich were literally covered with medals and wreaths bestowed upon thesocieties by the town at various times. These were borne proudly throughthe streets, and each society had its crowd of partisans and loudadmirers. Had it not been so picturesque and strange, it would haveseemed childish and pathetic, but the people were so evidently inearnest and seemed to enjoy it so hugely that the chance stranger couldnot but enter into the spirit of it all with them. This we did andwisely. There was much drinking of a thin sour beer called "faro, " whichis very popular with the peasants, and the various societies sangthemselves hoarse, to the delight of all, including themselves. Thehorse Bayard, as seen in the market place, was a great wicker affairhung in wondrous chain armor, and the four sons of Aymon, also ofwickerwork, and likewise clad in armor, each bearing a huge sword, satupon his back and were trundled through the streets. There were alsobooths in which the inevitable and odoriferous fritters were fried, andsome merry-go-rounds with thunderous, wheezy, groaning steam organssplitting one's ears, and platforms upon which the peasants danced anddanced until one would have thought them fit to drop with fatigue. 

It did not take long to examine the attractions most thoroughly, butthere were two very extraordinary exhibits of enormously fat women (whoare great favorites with the peasantry, and no celebration seems to becomplete without them). Their booths were placed opposite to each other, nearly face to face, with only about forty feet between them. In thisspace crowded the peasants listening open mouthed in wonder at thevocabulary of the rival "barkers. "

As usual, a shower came on during the afternoon, and the decorationswere soaked with the downpour. The wickerwork horse Bayard was left toitself out in the square, and the wind whisked the water soakeddraperies over its head, disclosing piteously all of its poor framework. The leaden skies showing no promise of clearing, we called the driver ofthe ancient "fiacre, " and after settling our score at the "Grande HôtelCafé Royal de la Tête d'Or, " we departed for the station of the "cheminde 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 thatwe might not have done it entire justice, because of the discomfort ofthe rainy day. And while we did not, it is true, find anything of greatvalue to record, nor anything in the way of bells to gloat over, stillour rather dismal impression of the little town in the drizzling rain aswe last saw it, was quite removed and replaced by a picture more to ourliking. 

We were constantly finding new and unusual charms in the quaint oldtowns, each seeming for some reason quainter than the preceding one. Here on this occasion it looked so tranquil, so somnolent, that wetarried all unwilling to lose its flavor of the unusual. There were oldweather beaten walls of ancient brick, mossy in places, and here andthere little flights of steep steps leading down into the water; broadpathways there were too, shaded by tall trees and behind them vistas ofdelightful 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 uscuriously. He was the only sign of life visible except ourselves, andsoon he, satisfied that we were only crazy foreigners with nothing elseto do but wander about, took himself off yawning, his hands claspedbehind his back, and his short sword rattling audibly in the stillness. 

The atmosphere of this silent street by the river, shaded almost to atwilight by the thick foliage, with the old houses all about us, seemedto invite reminiscence, or dreams of the stern and respectable oldburghers and burgesses in sombre clothing, wide brimmed hats, andstiffly starched linen ruffs about their necks as rendered by Rembrandt, Hals, Rubens and Jordaens. They must have been veritable domesticdespots, magnates of the household, but certainly there must have beensomething fine about them too, for they are most impressive in theirportraits. 

"They shook the foot of Spain from their necks, " and when they were notfighting men they fought the waters. Truly the history of theirstruggles is a wondrous one! None of these was in sight, however, as westrolled the streets, but we did disturb the chat or gossip of twodelightful, apple cheeked old ladies in white caps, who became dumb withastonishment at the sight of two foreigners who walked about gazing upat the roofs and windows of the houses, and at the mynheer inknickerbockers who was always looking about him and writing in a littlebook. 

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 followinginscription from a wall. It sounds something like English gone quitemad--and the last line, it seems to me, runs rather trippingly--andcontains 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. Itlay puffing and wheezing at the side of the stream, and we went on boardand settled ourselves comfortably, tired out with our wanderings. Here abevy of children discovered us and ranged themselves along the dyke towatch our movements, exploding with laughter whenever we addressed oneanother. Finally an oily hand appeared at the hatchway of the engineroom, followed by the touseled yellow head of a heavily bearded man. Helooked at us searchingly, then at the line of tormenting children. Thenhe seized a long pole and advanced threateningly upon the phalanx. Theyfled incontinently out of reach, calling out various expletives inFlemish--of which I distinguished only one, "Koek bakker"! This wouldseem to be the crowning insult to cast at a respectable engineer, for heshook his fist at them. 

To our amazement he then touched his greasy cap to us, and in thebroadest possible Scotch dialect bade us welcome. There is a saying thatone has only to knock on the companion ladder of any engine room in anyport the world over, and call out "Sandy" to bring up in response oneor two canny Scots from the engine room below. This little steamerevidently took the place of the carrier's cart used elsewhere; forpassengers and parcels, as well as crates of vegetables were her cargo. At length we started puffing along the river, and stopping from time totime at small landings leading to villages whose roofs appeared abovethe banks and dykes. 

Delightful bits of the more intimate side of the people's life revealedthemselves to us on these unusual trips. We passed a fine looking oldpeasant woman in a beautiful lace cap, rowing a boat with short powerfulstrokes in company with a young girl, both keeping perfect time. Theboat was laden with green topped vegetables and brightly burnished brassmilk cans, forming a picture that was most quaint to look upon. Andlater we passed a large Rhine barge, from the cabin of which came themost appetizing odor of broiled bacon. Our whistle brought out the wholefamily, and likewise a little nervous black and white dog who wentnearly mad with the excitement attendant upon driving us away from theproperty he had to protect. 

Night was falling when we reached the quay side in Antwerp, and wedisembarked to the tinkling melody of the wondrous chimes from the towerof the great Cathedral. 

Louvain

Louvain

It was in the great Gothic Church of St. Peter that Mathias Van denGheyn delighted to execute those wonderful "_morceaux fugues_" now atonce the delight and the despair of the musical world, upon the finechime of bells in the tower. This venerable tower was entirely destroyedin the terrible bombardment of the town in 1914. It is probable that notown in Belgium was more frequented by learned men of all professions, since its university enjoyed such a high reputation the world over, andcertainly its library, likewise entirely destroyed, with its precioustomes and manuscripts, was considered second to none. 

The old Church of St. Peter, opposite the matchless Hôtel de Ville, wasa cruciform structure of noble proportions and flanked with remarkablechapels; 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 spireon the west side of the structure but "it was blown down in a storm in1606. "

When I saw it in 1910, the church was in process of restoration, andthe work was being very intelligently done by competent men. Before thefaçade was a most curious row of bizarre small houses of stucco, nearlyevery one of which was a sort of saloon or café, and the street beforethem was quite obstructed by small round tables and chairs at which, inthe afternoon from four to five, the shopkeepers and bourgeois of thetown gathered for the afternoon "_aperitif_, " whatever it might be, andto discuss politics. For be it known that this period before theoutbreak of the war, was in Belgium a troublous one for the Flemings, because of the continued friction between the clerical and theanti-clerical parties. These bizarre houses, I was told by one of thepriests with whom I talked, were owned by the church, and were veryprofitable holdings, but tourists and others had made such sport ofthem, and even entered such grave protests to the Bishop, that theauthorities finally concluded to tear them down. But they were certainlyvery picturesque, as my picture shows, their red tiled roofs and greenblinds, making most agreeable notes of color against old St. Peter'sgray wall. 

[Illustration: The Cathedral: Louvain]

The church so wantonly destroyed in 1914 contained some most remarkableworks 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 ofMemling's works, until its authenticity was established by the findingof the receipt by Bouts for payment, discovered in the archives of theLibrary in Louvain in 1870. Formerly the church owned a great treasurein Quentin Matsys' "Holy Family, " but this was sold to the BrusselsMuseum for something less than £10, 000, and upon the outbreak of the warwas in that collection. It is said that most of these great paintingsowned in Belgium were placed in zinc and leaden cases and sent over toEngland for safety. It is to be hoped that this is true. 

The _custode_ showed, with most impressive manner, a quaint image of theSavior which, he related, was connected with a miraculous legend to theeffect that the statue had captured and held a thief who had broken intothe church upon one occasion! The townspeople venerate this image, andon each occasion when I visited the church, I noted the number of oldwomen on their knees before it, and the many lighted waxen candles whichthey offered in its honor. A wave of indignation passed over the worldof art when the newspapers reported the destruction of the beautifulHôtel de Ville, just opposite old St. Peter's. This report was almostimmediately followed by a denial from Berlin that it had suffered anyharm whatever, and it would seem that this is true. 

The Library, however, with its hundreds of thousands of pricelessrecords, and masterpieces of printing is, it is admitted, entirelydestroyed! This great building, black and crumbling with age, wassituated in a small street behind the Hôtel de Ville. The town itselfwas bright and clean looking, and there was a handsome boulevard leadingfrom 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 in1914. Late photographs show the new station levelled to the ground, andthe parkway turned into a cemetery with mounds and crosses showing wherethe soldiers who lost their lives in the bombardment, and subsequentsacking, are buried. 

Remembering the complete destruction of Ypres, one can only believe thatthe preservation of the Hôtel de Ville was entirely miraculous andunintentional. 

P. J. Verhaegan, a Flemish painter of considerable reputation andability, had decorated one of the two "absidiole" chapels whichcontained a very richly carved tomb over a certain lady of thethirteenth century whose fame is known all over Flanders. The legend wasmost dramatically told to me by one of the young priests of St. Peter's, and this is the story of the beautiful Margaret, called "theCourageous, " (La Fière). 

[Illustration: The Town Hall: Louvain]

By the Grace of God, there lived in Louvain, in the year 1235, oneArmand and his wife, both devout Catholics and the keepers of atravelers' "ordinary" on the road to the coast, called Tirlemont. Thesetwo at length decided to retire from their occupation as "Hôteliers, "and devote and consecrate the remainder of their lives to God, and theblessed saints. 

Now they had a niece who was a most beautiful girl and whose name wasMargaret, and she had such disdain for the young gallants of Louvainthat they bestowed upon her the name of "La Fière. " Although buteighteen years of age she determined to follow the example of her uncleand aunt, and later become a "Beguine, " thus devoting her life tocharity and the care of the sick and unfortunate, for this is the workof the order of "Beguines. "

They realized a large sum of money from the sale of the hotel, and thisbecame known throughout the countryside. It was said that the money washidden in the house in which they lived, and at length eight young menof evil lives, pondering upon this, resolved that they would rob thisnoble couple. Upon a stormy night they demanded admittance, saying thatthey were belated travelers. 

The young girl Margaret was absent from the room for a moment, whenthese ruffians seized the old couple and murdered them. On her return tothe upper room from the cellar, Margaret surprised them ransacking thestrong box beside the fireplace. So they overpowered her also, but atonce there ensued an argument as to what should be done with her, whenthe chief rogue, admiring her great beauty, proposed to her that sheaccept him as her lover and depart with him for France, where they couldlive happily. This she scornfully refused, whereupon "one of theruffians strangled her for ten marcs of silver; and her soul, white andpure as the angels, ascended to the throne of Jesus, in whom she so wellbelieved, and there became '_l'unique espoux dont elle ambitionaitl'Amour. _'"

It is said that Henry the First sitting in a window of his château onthe river Dyle one night, saw floating on the dark water the corpse ofthis young martyr, where the ruffians had thus thrown her, and "the paleradiance from her brow illuminated the whole valley. " Calling to hisconsort, Marguerite of Flanders, he pointed out to her the wondroussight, and hastening forth they drew her dripping body from the darkslimy water and bore it tenderly to the château. The news spread far andwide, and for days came throngs to view the "sweet martyr's" body, forwhich the priests had prepared a costly catafalque, and for her a grandmass 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 blamelesslife 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 ofgreat richness of detail. Of course both it and the beautiful waxpaintings 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 aFlemish town, because of its history and affiliations. The town isquaint in the extreme and of great antiquity, growing up originallyaround a Gallo-Roman fort. In the many wars carried on by the Frenchagainst the English, the Flemish and the Germans, not to mention itssufferings from the invading Spaniards, it suffered many sieges andcaptures. Resisting the memorable attack of Louis the Eleventh, it hasregularly celebrated the anniversary of this victory each year in anotable Fête or Kermesse, in which the effigies of the giant Gayant andhis family, made of wickerwork and clad in medieval costumes, areparaded through the town by order of the authorities, followed by aprocession of costumed attendants through the tortuous streets, to themusic 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 onehundred and fifty feet high, with a remarkable construction of tower andturrets, supported by corbels of the fifteenth century, containing afine chime of bells made by the Van den Gheyns. The bells are visiblefrom below, hanging sometimes well outside the turret of the bellchamber, and, ranging tier upon tier, from those seemingly the size of agallon measure, to those immense ones weighing from fifteen hundred totwo thousand pounds. This great tower witnessed the attack andoccupation of the Spaniards, the foundation by the Roman Catholics ofthe great University in 1652 to counter-act the Protestantism of theNetherlands, which had but a brief career, and the capture of the townby Louis the Fourteenth. Here was published in 1610 an Englishtranslation of the Old Testament for Roman Catholics, as well as theEnglish Roman Catholic version of the scriptures, and the New Testamenttranslated at Rheims in 1582, and known as the "Douai Bible. " This wasalso the birthplace of Jean Bellgambe, the painter (1540) surnamed"Maître des Couleurs, " whose nine great oaken panels form the wonderfulaltarpiece in the church of Notre Dame. 

[Illustration: The Town Hall: Douai]

Douai was, before the great war, a peaceful industrial center of someimportance, of some thirty thousand inhabitants. It has been said thatthe Fleming worked habitually fifty-two weeks in the year. An exception, however, must be made for fête days, when no self-respecting Flemingwill work. On these days the holiday makers are exceedinglyboisterous, and the streets are filled with the peasants clad in alltheir holiday finery. But it is on the day of the Kermesse that yourFleming can be seen to the best advantage. There are merry-go-rounds, shooting galleries, swings, maybe a traveling circus or two, and atheatrical troupe which shows in a much bespangled and mirrored tent, decorated with tinsel and flaming at night with naphtha torches. Bandsof music parade the streets, each carrying a sort of banneret hung withmedals and trophies awarded by the town authorities at the various"_séances_. "

But the greatest noise comes from the barrel organs of huge size andplayed by steam, or sometimes by a patient horse clad in gay apparel whotrudges a sort of treadmill which furnishes the motive power. In eventhese small towns of Ancient Flanders such as Douai, the old allegoricalrepresentations, formerly the main feature of the event, are now quiterare, and therefore this event of the parade of the wicker effigies ofthe fabulous giant Gayant and his family was certainly worth the journeyfrom Tournai. The day was made memorable also to the writer and hiscompanion because of the following adventure. 

There had been, it seems, considerable feeling against England among thelower orders in this border town over the Anglo-Boer War, so thatoverhearing us speaking English, some half grown lads began shoutingout at us "Verdamt Engelsch" and other pleasantries, and in a moment acrowd 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; butunder his protection we certainly beat a hasty retreat. The lowerclasses 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 factthat the afternoon brought on a downpour of rain, which somewhatdampened the ardor of the people and the success of the fête, our littletrip over the border to this historic town would be considered worthwhile. Our last view of Douai was from the train window as we recrossedthe river Scarpe, with the massive tower of the Hôtel de Ville showingsilhouetted dim and gray against a streaming sky. 

Oudenaarde

Oudenaarde

From the small stucco station, embowered in luxuriant trees, we crosseda wide grass grown square, faring towards the turrets of the town, whichappeared above the small red and black tiled roofs of some mean lookingpeasant houses, and an _estaminet_, of stucco evidently brand new, andbearing a gilt lion over its door. Here a wide and rather well pavedstreet led towards the town, bordered upon either hand by well kept andclean but blank looking houses, with the very narrowest sidewalksimaginable, all of which somehow reminded us of some of the smallerstreets of Philadelphia. The windows of these houses flush with thestreet were closely hung with lace, and invariably in each one waseither a vase or a pot of some sort filled with bright flowers. Occasionally there was a small poor looking shop window in which weredusty glass jars of candy, pipes, packages of tobacco, coils of rope andhardware, and in one, evidently that of an apothecary, a large carvedand varnished black head of a grinning negro, this being the sign forsuch merchandise as tobacco and drugs. 

Here and there doorways were embellished with shiny brass knockers ofgood form, and outside one shop was a tempting array of cool greenearthenware bowls of such beautiful shape that I passed them by withgreat longing. 

Soon this street made a turning, where there was a good bronze statue tosome dignitary or other, and I caught a glimpse of that wondrous towerof the famous Hôtel de Ville, the mate to that at Louvain, and soon Iwas beneath its Gothic walls, bearing row upon row of niches, empty now, but once containing effigies of the powerful lords and ladies ofFlanders. These rows rise tier upon tier to that exquisitely slenderlace-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, Iappraised its beauties over a good meal of young broiled chicken andlettuce salad, and a bowl of "_café au lait_" that was all satisfying. 

Afterwards, the _custode_, an old soldier, showed us the "Salle des PasPerdus, " containing a fine chimney piece alone worth the journey fromAntwerp, and the Council Chamber, still hung with some good ancientstamped leather, and several large badly faded and cracked Spanishpaintings 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 asort of theatre and quite disfigured at one end by a stage and scenicarch. The walls were stenciled meanly with a large letter A surmountedby 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 achime of bells visible, and a flock of rooks circling about the tower. The style of St. Walburga was Romanesque, with Gothic tendencies. Builtin the twelfth century, it suffered severely at the hands of theIconoclasts, and even in its unfinished state was very impressive, nonethe less, either, because of the rows of small stucco red roofed houseswhich clung to its walls, leaving only a narrow entrance to its portal. Inside I found an extremely rich polychromed Renaissance "reredos, " andthere was also the somewhat remarkable tomb of "Claude Talon, " kept ingood 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 theresidence of Mary of Burgundy, and gave shelter to Charles the Fifth, who sought the protection of its fortifications during the siege ofTournai in 1521. 

Here, too, Marlborough vanquished the French in 1708. I might go on fora dozen more pages citing the names of remarkable personages who gavefame to the town, which now is simply wiped from the landscape. But bysome miracle, it is stated, the Town Hall still stands practicallyuninjured. I have tried in vain to substantiate this, or at least toobtain some data concerning it, but up to this writing my letters tovarious officials remain unanswered. 

I like to think of Oudenaarde as I last saw it--the huge black door ofthe church yawning like a gaping chasm, the square partly filled withdevout peasants in holiday attire for the church fête, whatever it was. Part of the procession had passed beyond the gloom of the vast aislesinto the frank openness of daylight. Between the walls of the smallhouses at either hand a long line of figures was marching with manysilken banners. There seemed to be an interminable line of younggirls--first communicants, I fancied, --in all the purity of their whiteveils and gowns against the somber dull grays of the church. This massof pure white was of dazzling, startling effect, something like a greatbed of white roses. 

[Illustration: Old Square and Church: Oudenaarde]

Then came a phalanx of nuns clad in brown--I know not what their orderwas--their wide white cowls or coifs serving only to accentuate thepallor of their grave faces, veritable "incarnations of meekrenunciation, " as some poet has beautifully expressed it. 

Then followed a group of seminarians clad in the lace and scarlet oftheir order, swinging to and fro their brazen censers from which pouredfragrant clouds of incense. 

All at once a curious murmur came from the multitude, followed by agreat rustling, as the whole body of people sank to their knees, andthen I saw beyond at a distance across the square, the archbishop'ssilken 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 blackfigures; scarlet and gold and lace of the priests' robes against theblack note of the nuns' somber draperies; the white coifs and veils, through which the sweet rapture of young religious awe made even homelyfeatures seem beautiful: the gold and scarlet again of the choristers;and finally, that culminating note of splendor beneath the silken canopyof the cardinal archbishop (Cardinal Mercier) enthroned here like someancient venerated monarch; all this against the neutral gray and blacklines of the townspeople; surely this was the psychological moment inwhich to leave Oudenaarde, that I might retain such a picture in mymind's eye. 

Furnes

Furnes

The old red brick, flat topped, tower of St. Nicholas was the magnetwhich drew us to this dear sleepy old town, in the southwest corner ofthe Belgian littoral; and here, lodged in the historic hostel of the"Nobèle Rose" we spent some golden days. The name of the town isvariously pronounced by the people Foorn, Fern, and even Fearn. I doubtif many travelers in the Netherlands ever heard of it. Yet the town isone of great antiquity and renown, its origin lost in the dimness of theages. 

According to the chronicles in the great Library at Bruges, as early asA. D. 800 it was the theatre of invasions and massacres by the Normans. That learned student of Flemish history, M. Leopold Plettinck, has madeexhaustive researches among the archives in both Brussels and Bruges, and while he has been unable to trace its beginnings he has collectedand assorted an immense amount of detailed matter referring to Baudoin(or Baldwin) Bras de Fer, who seems to have been very active inharassing the people who had the misfortune to come under his hand. 

The War of the "Deux Roses" was fought outside the walls here, likewisethe Battle of the Spurs took place on the plains between Furnes andYpres. Following the long undulations of the dunes from Dunkerque, overgrown here and there with a rank coarse grass sown by theauthorities to protect them from the wind and the encroachments of theever menacing sea, dune succeeds dune, forming a landscape of mostunique character. Passing the small hamlet of Zuitcote, marked by thesunken tower of its small church, which now serves as a sort ofsemaphore for the fishing boats off the coast, one reached the canalwhich crosses the plain picturesquely. This led one along the path tothe quaint old town of Furnes, showing against the heavy dark green ofthe old trees, its dull red and pink roofs with the bulk of the towerforming a picture of great attractiveness. 

The town before the war had about six thousand population which seemedquite lost in the long lines of silent grass grown streets, and theimmense Grand' Place, around which were ranged large dark stone Flemishhouses of somewhat forbidding exteriors. All the activity of the town, however, was here in this large square, for the lower floors had beenturned into shops, and also here was the hotel, before which a temporarymoving 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 "knockeddown" in large wagons drawn by hollow-backed, thick-legged Flemishhorses. As a rule they have steam organs to furnish the "music" and theblare 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 andtwenty-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 andthe whole construction forming an admirable specimen of Hispano-Flemisharchitecture. 

The angle of the "Place" opposite the pavilion of the officers isoccupied by the Hôtel de Ville and the "Palais de Justice, " verydifferent in style, for on one side is a massive façade of severe aspectand no particular period, while on the other is a most graceful FlemishRenaissance construction, reminding one of a Rubens opposed, in all itsopulence, to a cold classic portrait by Gainsborough. 

The Hôtel de Ville, of 1612, exhibits in its "Pignons, " its columns andRenaissance motifs, a large high tower of octagonal form surmounted by asmall cupola. Its frontage pushes forward a loggia of quite elegantform, 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 theRenaissance style very varied in form, and each one with acharacteristic window above, framed richly _en coquille_, and decoratedwith arabesques. 

Behind these houses is what remains of the ancient Church of St. Walburga, half buried in the thick verdure of the garden. Afterconsiderable difficulty we gained admittance to the ruin, because it isnot considered safe to walk beneath its walls. Even in its ruin it wasmost imposing and majestic. We would have tarried here, but the_custode_ was very nervous and hurried us through the thickets of bushesgrowing up between the stones of the pavement, and fairly pushed us outagain into the small parkway, accepting the very generous fee which Igave him with what I should call surliness. But we ignored thiscompletely, after the manner of old travelers, which we had been advisedto adopt. 

At one side were stored some rather dilapidated and dirty wax figureswhich reclined in various postures, somewhat too lifelike in the gloomof the chamber, and entirely ludicrous, so much so that it was with muchdifficulty that we controlled our smiles. The roving eye of the surly_custode_, however, warned us against levity of any sort. These waxfigures, he explained, gruffly enough, were those of the most sacredreligious personages, and the attendant saints and martyrs, used in thegreat procession and ceremony of the "Sodalité, " which is a sort ofPassion Play, shown during the last Sunday in July of each year in thestreets of the town. The story relates an adventure of a Count ofFlanders, who brought to Furnes, during the first years of the HolyCrusades, a fragment of the True Cross. Assailed by a tempest in theChannel off the coast, he vowed the precious object to the first churchhe came to, if his prayers for succor were answered. "Immediately thestorm 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 towerwas that of St. Walburga. After a conference with his followers, whoalso were saved, he founded the solemn annual procession in honor of theTrue Cross, in which was also introduced the representation of the"Mysteries of the Passion. "[2]

This procession was suppressed during the religious troubles of theReform, but afterwards was revived by the church authorities, and nowall of the episodes of the life of Christ pass yearly through the greatGrand' Place--the stable in Bethlehem; the flight into Egypt; down tothe grand drama of the Calvary and the Resurrection, all are shown andwitnessed with great reverence by the crowds of devout peasants from thesurrounding country. And these pathetic waxen figures were those ofProphets, Apostles, Jews, Angels, Cavaliers and Roman Soldiers, lyingall about the dim dusty chamber in disorder. Afterwards, from the windowof the quaint Hôtel of the "Nobèle Rose, " we saw this procession passingthrough the crowded streets of Furnes, and almost held our breaths withawe at the long line of black cloaked, hooded penitents, bare-footed, the faces covered so that one could hardly tell whether they were men orwomen, save for the occasional delicate small white foot thrust forwardbeneath 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 therows of quaint gabled houses beneath, Furnes has little to offer to theseeker after antiquity. The bells in the tower are of sweet tone, butthe chimes which hung there were silent, and no amount of persuasioncould induce the _custode_ to admit me to the bell chamber. Madame atthe "Nobèle Rose" had assured me that I could go up there into the towerwhenever I wished, but somehow that pleasure was deferred, until finallywe were forced to give it up. Of course Madame _did_ rob me; when thebill was presented, it proved to be fifty per cent. More than the priceagreed upon, but she argued that we had "used" the window in ourapartment overlooking the procession, so we must pay for that privilege. The point was so novel that I was staggered for a suitable reply toit, --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 thepainters formed part of the Society of Furniture Makers, while sculptorsaffiliated with the Masons' Gild. These at length formed between them asort 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 freemasters, who gave instruction to a great number of apprentices. Theyadmitted the gold beaters to membership in 1618, and the following yearthe organization had increased to ninety-six members. 

Working in alabaster was, during this epoch, a specialty with thesculptors of Malines, which soon resulted in a monopoly with them, forthey made a law that no master workman could receive or employ more thanone apprentice every four years. The workers in gold covered thestatues with heavy ornaments of gold, it being forbidden to marketstatuary not so gilded. The Gild of Saint Luke chafed under this rulingof the Gild Master, and surreptitiously made and delivered some statuaryand paintings without any gilding whatever. 

Charges being brought against the offenders, they were fined twenty-fiveflorins, and a law was passed authorized by the magistrate, permittingdomiciliary visits upon certain days known only to the officers, to thehouses of suspected men engaged in art work. Of course reputable workmenwere free from suspicion, it being only those mediocre craftsmen andirregular apprentices who would engage in such traffic. 

It was not until 1772 that any sculptor was permitted to paint or gildfor profit, nor was any painter allowed to model. The profession of anartist was regarded as less than an industry, being a sort of hand tomouth existence in which the unfortunate was glad to accept whateverwork the artisan could give him. In 1783 the Gild had dwindled to twelvemembers, who finally were absorbed by the Academy of Design, establishedby Maria Theresa in 1773. Thus perished the Gild of Painters andSculptors 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 ofMalines, was a successful workman in 1403. He was said to be more of apainter-glazer than a painter of pictures, but there is sufficientevidence that he practised both genres. 

Gauthier Van Battele, son of the above, was admitted to the Gild in1426, and figured in the artistic annals of the town in 1474-75. 

Baudoin Van Battele, alias Vander Wyck, believed to be "petitfils" ofGauthier, is mentioned in the chronicles of 1495. He painted many muralpictures for the "Beyaerd"; the fresco of the Judgment Day in the greathall 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 ofMalines in 1535, and illuminated a manuscript register on vellumrelating to the "_Toison d'Or_. " This book was presented toCharles-Quint, and so pleased him that he ordered a duplicate which costthe 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 thechief altar of St. Rombauld. An engraver of great merit; he died in1451(?). 

Jean Van Orshagen occupied the position of Royal Mint Engraver ofMalines, 1464-65. The following year he was discovered passing falsemoney 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 altarof the Cathedral. He died in 1482. 

Zacherie Van Steynemolen, born about 1434, was an excellent engraver ofdies. During more than forty years (1465-1507) he made the seals of thetown corporations. Notably he engraved for the Emperor Frederic IV thetwo great seals which are now in the museum. He died in 1507. 

Michael or Michel Coxie, le vieux, was a greatly esteemed painter whoworked under the direction of Raphaël. His real name was Van Coxciën, orCoxcyën, but he changed its form to Coxie. 

His son, Michel Coxie le Jeune, surnamed the Flemish Raphaël, was bornin 1499, and first studied under his father. He was shortly placed withBernard Van Orley, who sent him to Rome, where he might study the workof Raphaël Sanzio. His work was of very unequal merit, although hepainted hundreds of compositions in triptych form for the churches. Towards the end of his life he was commissioned to paint a decorationfor the Hôtel de Ville of Antwerp. He fell from the scaffolding duringhis work, receiving such injuries that he was incapacitated. Removed tohis home in Malines, he died after some years of suffering, aged 93years!

His second son, Raphaël Coxie, born in 1540, was a painter of greatmerit, whose paintings were ordered for the Royal Spanish Cabinet. Helived at Antwerp, Ghent, and Brussels respectively, and died, full ofhonors, in 1616. 

Michael, or Michel, Coxie, the third of the name, was received in theGild of Painters the 28th day of September, 1598. He is the author ofthe triptych over the altar of the "Jardiniers" of Notre-Dame au dela dela Dyle. He died in 1618. 

Michel Coxie, the Fourth, son of the above, born September, 1604, waselected to the Gild in 1623. He became Court Painter to the King. 

Jean Coxie, son of Michel (above) excelled as a painter of landscape. Heit was who decorated the two great salons of the "Parc" Abbey. Thesubjects were drawn from the life of Saint Norbert. 

His son, Jean-Michel, though a member of the Gild of Malines, passedalmost his whole life in Amsterdam, Dusseldorf, and Berlin. In thelatter town he enjoyed the favor and patronage of Frederick I. He diedin 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 sonsJean and Pierre continued the work which he began. Jean made seals ofgreat beauty of detail, but Pierre was condemned to banishment in 1536and confiscation of all his goods and chattels, for counterfeiting thestate coinage. 

Jean Hoogenbergh, born about 1500, was a successful painter ofminiatures; he lived about fifty years. 

Jean Van Ophem was appointed Civic Engraver of Seals and Gold Worker. Hedied in 1553. 

François Verbeek became master workman in 1531, and finally _doyen_ ofthe craft. He abandoned oil painting for distemper, in which medium heexcelled, 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. Hewas Court Painter to Albert and Isabella. He died sometime after 1619. 

Grégoire Berincx, born in 1526, visited Italy and there made paintingsin distemper of the ruins and ancient constructions. Returning to hisnative town in 1555 he was at once made a Gild Member of the Corporationof Painters. He died in 1573. 

His youngest son, Grégoire, became _doyen_, and of him the followingstory is told: The great Van Dyck visited him unexpectedly one day, anddemanded that he make a sketch of him (Van Dyck) at once, in hispresence. Berincx accordingly painted in monotone the sketch in fulllength, 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, "ifhe would permit. " He died full of honors the 14th of October, 1669. 

Jacques de Poindre, born in 1527, acquired a brilliant reputation as aportrait painter. He afterwards established himself under royalpatronage in Denmark where he died in 1570. 

Corneille Ingelrams, a painter in distemper, was born in 1527. Hepractised his art successfully in Malines and died in 1580. 

His son, André, was admitted to the Painters' Gild in May, 1571, anddied 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 thedecorators, and admirable cartoons for tapestry makers. He died in 1561. 

Jean Carpreau was commissioned in 1554 to take charge of therestorations of the "chasse" of the patron saint of the town. Such washis success that he was appointed Official Seal Cutter and Engraver, aposition of great importance in those days. At the Hôtel de Ville waspreserved and shown a remarkable die in silver from his hand, for theSeal of the Municipality of Malines. 

Jean or Hans Bol, born December, 1534, was the pupil of his unclesJacques and Jean the Elder, but after two years of apprenticeship hewent to Germany for a time. Returning to Malines, he devoted himself tothe painting of landscapes with great success. Likewise he sometimesengraved plates on copper. His productions are many. He died atAmsterdam in 1593. 

Lambert de Vos, admitted to the Gild of Saint Luke in 1563, was engagedin the service of Charles Kimy, Imperial Ambassador to Constantinople. He painted oriental subjects in water colors, which were distinguishedfor richness of color, and accuracy of drawing. Many of these are in theLibrary 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 churchof 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, hedevoted himself to Flemish literature with marked success as anauthority. 

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 aportrait painter. His reputation was made by his portrait of theArchduke Matthias. 

He died in 1625, leaving a son Martin, also his pupil, who establishedhimself at Antwerp and later at Frankfort. Martin was an historical andlandscape painter, although he painted some good portraits in the mannerof his father. He is thought to have died about 1636. 

Philip Vinckboons, the elder, was born about 1550, became an associateof the Gild of Painters in 1580, and died 1631. His son Maur, theyounger, born 1585, studied painting under his father, finishing underhis 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 signedhis works thus--P. Stephani. He died in 1604 at Prague, where he haddwelt since 1590, under the patronage of the Emperor Rudolphe II. 

Rombaut Van Avont, incorporated in the Gild of Saint Luke in 1581, was asculptor and painter as well as an illuminator of manuscripts on vellum. He died in 1619. His son Pierre, born in 1599, was an excellent painterof landscapes, which were distinguished by a most agreeable manner. Admitted as a "franc maitre" at Antwerp, he became one of the burgessesof that town in October, 1631. 

Luc Franchoys, the elder, born January, 1574, was admitted to the Gildin 1599. A painter of remarkable talent, he turned to historicalsubjects, which he produced with great success. In drawing, too, he wasmost skillful and correct. He died in 1693 and was buried with honors inthe 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 hisworks were eagerly sought and appreciated. He never married, but alwayssurrounded 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 toParis, where he painted portraits of members of the Court, enjoyingconsiderable renown and favor. He returned finally to Malines, where hedied 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 anyrate. He had the honor and glory of introducing into Holland the"procede magistral" of Rubens and his school. His works are too wellknown to need description here. He established himself at Haarlem, wherehe died in great poverty in 1666. Not even his burial place is nowknown. 

[Illustration: The Church of Our Lady of Hanswyk]

Jean le Saive of Namur, son of Le Saive the Elder, was born in thecommencement of the seventeenth century. He painted animals, landscapes, and historical subjects. In the latter genre he is inferior to hisfather; his color is drier, and his drawing less correct. The date ofhis 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 ofAntwerp in 1663, and was elected a Director of the Academy. He died atBreda in 1685. 

Martin Verhoeven was elected to the Gild in 1623. He painted flowers andfruit pieces which enjoyed great celebrity. 

His brother Jean was known as a portraitist of great ability. In latelife he produced some good sculptures. 

David Herregouts, born 1603, was elected to the Gild in 1624. Examplesof his work are rare. He died at Ruremonde. His son Henri was a pupil ofhis father. David went to Italy, residing at Rome. After traveling inGermany he returned to Malines, and died at Antwerp at an advanced age. 

Jacques de (or Van) Homes, painter in distemper, was a pupil of GrégoireBerincx (Second) and executed much work in "ciselé" under the directionof Fayd'herbe. He died in 1674. 

Jean Philippe Van Thieleu, born 1618, was an eminent flower andstill-life painter, under the guidance of Daniel Zeghers. He waspatronized by the King of Spain, and died in 1674. 

Ferdinand Elle, born 1631, according to some; in 1612, say otheraccounts, painter of portraits, went to Paris, where he remained untilhis death in 1660(?). 

Gilles (or Egide) Smeyers, historical painter, was born in 1635, andstudied under his father Nicholas, later under Jean Verhoeven. Infriendship for his companion and master Luc Franchoys the younger, hefinished many of the latter's incompleted works after his death. 

His son Jacques, born 1657, was admitted to the Gild in 1688, and diedin 1732. 

Egide Joseph, natural son of Jacques, born 1694, was an historicalpainter, 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 wrotewith great fluency and ease, in both poetry and prose. He possessed, too, a working knowledge of French, German, and Italian. His historicalworks are many. At length, sick and helpless, he was admitted to thehospital of Notre Dame, where he died in 1771. He painted the largeportrait of Cardinal Thomas Philippe d'Alsace, Archbishop of Malines. 

Daniel Janssens, born in 1636, was a painter-decorator of the firstorder. He adopted the manner of Jacques de Hornes of whom he was thefavorite pupil. After having resided in Antwerp for some years hereturned to Malines, where he died in 1682. He it was who designed andconstructed the immense triumphal arch for the Jubilee of 1680. Thisarch is preserved in the Town Hall, and serves to decorate the façade ofthe "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 paintingin Spain and Portugal he returned to Malines, where he died in 1722. 

August Casimir Redel, born 1640. This painter of merit became insanefrom 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 theoccasion of the Jubilee of Malines in 1680. 

Jacques la Pla, pupil of Jean le Saive, a master painter of Malines in1673, died in 1678. 

Jean Barthelemy Joffroy, born 1669, was historian, painter, andengraver. He died 1740. 

Jean Joseph Van Campenhout, designer and engraver. He was designer ofthe great book of the "Cavalcade of Malines" in 1775. 

Antoine Opdebeek, born 1709, author of many paintings of merit, was anuntaught genius. Employed in the hospital of St. Hedwige in Malines, hetaught himself the art, with success, but never reached the height whichwould 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 isalso due a great number of original engravings of the Tower of St. Rombold; the interior and exterior of the Cathedral of Antwerp; theHôtels de Villes of Oudenaarde, Brussels and Louvain, etc. , etc. He diedin 1851. 

His son, Pierre Paul Aloys, born 1808, was a genre painter of greattaste and renown. His works in which the painting of silk and satinappeared were in great demand. He was professor of the Malines Academy, and in 1848 Leopold I conferred upon him the decoration of the Order ofLeopold. He died February 27th, 1855. Many of his paintings have beenreproduced in engravings. 

Jean Ver Vloet, the _doyen_ of the artists of Malines, died October27th, 1869, after a long and successful artistic career. One of thefounders of the society "Pour l'Encouragement des Beaux Arts" ofMalines, he was indefatigable in all art movements of the town. To himwas due the success of the magnificent Cavalcades for which Malines hasbeen famous. For fifty years he was the director of the Academy ofDesign and Painting of his native town. 

This ends the list of famous painters of Malines, and so far as I knowit is the first and only one in English. Did space permit I mightinclude the architects who made Flanders famous the world over as thecradle of art and architecture. 

A Word About the Belgians

A Word About the Belgians

The little country called Belgium, it should be remembered, dates onlyfrom 1830, when the existing constitution was prepared and adopted forthe nine southern provinces of the ancient Netherlands. The sudden andunexpected revolt against the Dutch in that year has been since styled"a misunderstanding" upon the part of the Belgians, and was broughtabout by the action of the King, William I, of the house ofOrange-Nassau, who attempted ostentatiously to change at once thelanguage and religion of his southern subjects. They were both RomanCatholic and conservative to the last degree, attached to traditionalrights and forms and fiercely proud of the ancient separateconstitutions of the southern provinces, which could be traced back tothe charters of the Baldwins and Wenceslas. 

Undoubtedly the French Revolution of 1830, which closed the Monarchy ofthe Bourbons, hastened the crisis. For the Belgians had no liking forthe rule of the House of Orange-Nassau against which they haddiscontentedly struggled for some years more or less openly. Butmatters might have gone on thus indefinitely had not the FrenchRevolution furnished ground for hope of support from a people akin inreligion and language, as well as race. The smouldering fire ofdiscontent broke into fierce flame on August 25th, 1830, in the city ofBrussels, during a performance of the opera "Muette de Portici, " whenthe 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 wordsof the song and, rushing from the theatre _en masse_, paraded thestreets, attacking the residences of the Dutch ministers, which theysacked and burned. 

The few troops in the town were powerless to stem the revolt, which grewuntil Brussels was entirely in the hands of the revolutionists, who thenproceeded to appoint a Council of Government, which prepared the nowcelebrated 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 havebeen terminated easily, it is claimed. The Prince entered Brusselsaccompanied only by a half dozen officers as escort. After three days'useless parley, he returned to King William with the "Document ofSeparation. "

The reply of the King to this message was made to the Dutch Chambers tendays later. Denouncing the revolt, he declared that he would never yieldto "passion and violence. " Orders were then issued to Dutch troops underPrince Frederick of Holland to proceed to Brussels and retake the city. The attack was made upon the four gates of the walled city on September23rd. The Belgians prepared a trap, cunningly allowing the Dutchsoldiers to enter two of the gates and retreating towards the Royal Parkfacing the Palace. Here they rallied and attacked the troops of Williamfrom all sides at once. Joined by a strong body of men from Liège theyfought for three days with such ferocity that Prince Frederick wasbeaten back again and again, until he was forced to retreat at midnightof 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 beenerected in the Place des Martyrs, near the trench in which they wereburied. 

A provisional government was now formed which issued the followingnotice: "The Belgian provinces, detached by force from Holland, shallform an independent state. " Measures were taken to rid the country ofthe Dutch, who were expelled forcibly across the border. 

Envoys to Paris and London presented documents to secure sympathy forthe new government, while the fight for independence was still going onfiercely. Waelhern and Berchem, besieged by the Belgian volunteers, soonfell, and the city of Antwerp was occupied by them before the end ofOctober. 

Then the Conference of the Five Powers, sitting in London, interposed toforce an armistice in order to determinate some understanding andarrangement between the Dutch and the Belgians, since it had becomeevident that the Netherlands kingdom of 1815 had practically come to anend. By the treaty of London in 1814, and that of Vienna in 1815, Belgium, after a short interregnum of Austrian rule, was incorporatedwith Holland into the Kingdom of the Netherlands. 

In the space of a month then the Belgian patriots had accomplished theirtask, and on November 18th the National Assembly, convoked, declared asits first act the independence of the Belgians. 

It was now necessary to find a head upon which to place the crown. Thefirst choice of the provisional government was the Duc de Nemours, theson of Louis Philippe, but objection was made to him on the ground thathis selection would add too much, perhaps, to the power of France, sohis candidature was withdrawn. 

Choice was fixed finally upon Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg, who had butrecently declined the throne of Greece by advice of the Europeandiplomats. A resident of England, this Prince, who had espoused PrincessCharlotte, the daughter of George IV, was well known as a most clearheaded diplomat, a reputation he enjoyed during his whole career. 

In his acceptance he said: "Human destiny does not offer a nobler ormore useful task than that of being called to found the independence ofa nation, and to consolidate its liberties. "

The people hailed and received him with great enthusiasm, and on July21st he was crowned King of the Belgians, with most impressiveceremonies, at Brussels. The Dutch, however, viewed all this with muchconcern, and at once began hostilities, thinking that the powers wouldsustain them rather than permit France to occupy Belgium. At once Dutchtroops were massed for attack on both Brussels and Louvain. Outnumberedby the Dutch, the badly organized national forces of Belgium metdisaster at Hasselt, and, realizing his peril, Leopold besought theFrench, who were at the frontier, to come to his assistance. Simultaneously with the assault on Louvain, therefore, the Frenchtroops arrived at Brussels. Great Britain now entered the fray, threatening to send a fleet of warships to occupy the Scheldt unlessKing William recalled his army from Belgium. This settled the matter, and the Dutch withdrew. The French likewise returned to their ownterritory. Jealousy, however, was manifested by Austria, Prussia andRussia toward the new kingdom, and their refusal to receive Leopold'sambassadors was calculated to encourage hope in Holland that the reignof the new monarch was to be limited. 

New troubles began for the Belgians, in the presentation of the LondonProtocol of October 15, 1831, in consequence of a demand that thegreater part of Limbourg and Luxembourg be ceded. Not only the Belgiansbut the Dutch opposed this demand, as well as the conditions of theprotocol. And at once King William prepared for armed resistance. Leopold immediately after obtaining votes for the raising of the sum ofthree millions sterling for war purposes, increased the army to onehundred thousand men. 

Now ensued a most critical period for the little kingdom, but bothFrance and England held their shields over it, while Leopold's marriageto the Princess Louise, eldest daughter of King Louis Philippe, gainedfor 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 offive thousand soldiers. Antwerp Citadel being the pride of the kingdom, the Belgians, restive under the control of the powers, demanded thatboth England and France help them at once to recover it, alleging thatin case this help was refused, they, with their hundred thousand men, were ready to capture it themselves. So in the month of November theFrench troops, under Maréchal Gérard, laid siege to the Antwerpstronghold, held by General Chassé, who after three weeks' siegecapitulated, 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 theDutch sullenly refused to recognise the victory until the year 1839, when they withdrew from and dismantled the forts on the Scheldt facingAntwerp. 

Naturally the support of the French and English brought about a deep andlasting feeling of gratitude on the part of the Belgians. Louis Philippesaid, "Belgium owes her independence and the recovery of her territoryto the union of France and England in her cause. "

Her independence thus gained and recognised, Belgium turned herattention to the development of the country and its rich naturalresources. The Manufactures flourished, her mines of coal and ironbecame famous throughout the world, and she trod the peaceful path ofstrict neutrality among the great nations. Passing over the all familiarhistory of Waterloo, one may quote the saying of M. Northomb: "TheBattle of Waterloo opened a new era for Europe, the era ofrepresentative government. " And this new era was enjoyed by Belgiumuntil the Franco-Prussian War confronted the little country with a freshcrisis, and one fraught with danger. Although her absolute neutralityhad been earnestly proclaimed and presented to the powers, it was fearedthat she might be invaded and be unable to maintain her integrity by hermilitary 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 andGerman soldiers crossed the border and were interned until the close ofthe war. . . . Once more peace descended upon the Belgians, for a freshtreaty prepared by England and signed by both France and Prussia engagedthe British Government to declare war upon the power violating itsprovisions. 

After his acceptance of the Crown of Belgium, the Constitution declaredthe monarchy hereditary in the male line of the family of Prince Leopoldof Saxe-Coburg, which consisted of two sons and one daughter. The elderof the sons was born in 1835, and succeeded his father as Leopold II, in 1865. The Austrian Archduchess Marie Henriette became his wife in1853, and their descendants were one son and three daughters, none ofwhom is now living. The Salic Law prevailing in Belgium, the history ofthe female descendants is not of political importance. The only son ofLeopold II dying in 1869, the succession passed to the brother of theKing, 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 nationalcalamity. This left the nephew of Leopold II, Prince Albert (the presentKing of Belgium), the heir presumptive to the throne. He married in 1900the Princess Elizabeth of Bavaria; to them have been born threechildren, two boys and a girl. Both the King and Queen, the objects ofintense devotion on the part of the Belgians, are very simple anddemocratic in their bearing toward the people. The Queen is a verybeautiful woman, and a most devoted wife and mother. . . . Since the seatof government has been removed to Havre, the Queen divides her timebetween 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, wherethe children are being cared for and educated. . . . May not one hope thatbrighter days are in store for this devoted and heroic King and Queen, for the once smiling and fertile land, and for the kindly, gentle, andlaw 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 "EarlyFlemish Painters" (1857). 

[2] This passion play is described in detail in "Some Old FlemishTowns. " (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 dela Sculpture à Malines_, " _par Emmanuel Neefs_--Gand, Van der Heeghen, 1876, translated from the manuscripts composed in Latin by the painterEgide 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 ofBelgium, " C. Smythe, London, 1902.