The Spell of Flanders

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER X

THE AGE WHEN GHENT WAS GOVERNED BY ITS GUILDS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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