BELGIUM.
Belgium.--Dog-carts.--Waterloo.--Aix-la-Chapelle and
Charlemagne.--Story of Charlemagne.--Ghent and James van
Artevelde.--Bruges.--Story of Charles the Rash.--Longfellow's
"Belfry of Bruges."--French Diligences.--Normandy.--A
Story-telling Driver.--Story of the Wild Girl Of Songi.
"Anvers!" By this name is Antwerp known in Belgium, of which it is the
chief commercial port.
The Class stopped here only long enough to visit the Cathedral, where
are to be seen two of Rubens' most celebrated pictures, the Elevation
of and the Descent from the Cross. The boys climbed up to the belfry
of the famous spire, whose bells make the air tremble for miles with
the melody of their chimes.
It was Master Lewis's plan to travel through the lower part of Belgium
and through Normandy by short journeys near the coast, but he made a
détour from Antwerp to Brussels that the boys might visit the
battlefield of Waterloo.
The landscape along the route to Brussels was dotted with quaint
windmills, reminding one of the old pictorial histories, in which
Holland is illustrated by cuts of these workshops of the air.
The boys entered the city in the morning and passed in view of the
great market square and its contiguous streets.
"This city," said Frank Gray, "was the scene of the grand military
ball before the Battle of Waterloo.
"'There was a sound of revelry by night,
And Belgium's capital had gathered then
Her beauty and her chivalry, and--'"
"And please don't quote the reading book," said Tommy Toby. "The city
is full of _dog-carts_. Dog-carts heaped full of vegetables and women
to lead about the dogs! What a comical sight!"
[Illustration: {A DUTCH WINDMILL.}]
"They are probably country people with produce to sell," said Wyllys.
"What curious head-dresses! What odd jackets! The scene does not much
remind one of Byron's poetry; but it is poetic, after all!"
"I understood that we came here to study the associations of
history," said Frank, "and not dog-carts."
"I came to see what I could see," said Tommy, "and not to imagine
battles in the air."
[Illustration: DOG-CARTS.]
The unexpected street scenes and the general interest of the Class in
them so offended Frank that he turned his eyes with a far-away look
towards the highest gables, and passed on the rest of the way to the
Hotel de l'Europe in silence.
The next morning the Class left the Place Royale, in a fine English
stage-coach, in company with an agent of the English mail coaches, for
Waterloo, which is about twelve miles from the city. It was a bright
day, and the airy road led through the forest of Soignies,--the
"Ardennes" of Byron's "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage."
"And Ardennes waves about them her green leaves,
Dewy with Nature's tear-drops, as they pass."
The battlefield of Waterloo is an open plain, graced here and there
with appropriate monuments, and dignified with an imposing earth mound
with the Belgian Lion on its top.
It did not seem that the plain could ever have been the scene of such
a contest, so great was its beauty and so quiet its midsummer
loveliness.
[Illustration: STREET SCENES IN BRUSSELS.]
"Here," said Frank, "the Old Guard of France, who could die but not
surrender, gave their blood for the empire."
"Here," said Wyllys, "England won her greatest battle on land--"
"At the cost of twenty thousand men, as I have read," said Tommy.
"Victor Hugo," said Master Lewis, "declares that Waterloo was not a
battle: it was a change of front of the nations of the world."
The Class stopped at Brussels on their return from the most peaceful
plain to take a view of the Hotel de Ville, which is one of the
finest town-halls in the country. Its tower is more than three hundred
and sixty feet high, and is surmounted with a colossal statue of St.
Michael, which looks very small indeed from the square, but which is
really seventeen feet high. The figure turns in the wind, and is the
weather vane of the city.
[Illustration: HOTEL DE VILLE, BRUSSELS.]
"I wish you to visit Aix-la-Chapelle," said Master Lewis. "The places
you have seen in England and expect to see in Normandy will, I hope,
leave in your mind a clear view of English history, when you shall
associate them under my direction, as I purpose to have you do. To
have a view of French history you will need to learn something of the
old empire of Charlemagne, of which this city was the principal
capital on this side of the Alps. Here the great king of the Franks,
Roman Emperor, and virtual ruler of the world was born, had his
favorite residence, and here he was buried. Here, in 1165, his tomb
was opened, and his body was found seated upon a throne, crowned, the
sceptre in his hand, the Gospel on his knee, and all of the insignia
of imperial state about him."
[Illustration: CHARLEMAGNE IN COUNCIL.]
Through districts of pasture lands, by cliffs that looked like
castles, over clear streams and past populous villages our tourists
made their way to the old city of the emperor of the West. It is
situated in a valley, surrounded by heights. Its town hall was built
on the ruins of the palace of Charlemagne.
The grand old cathedral has sixteen sides. In the middle of the
interior, a stone with the inscription CAROLO MAGNO marks the grave of
Charlemagne.
[Illustration: CHARLEMAGNE AT THE HEAD OF HIS ARMY.]
"Charlemagne, like Alfred of England," said Master Lewis, "was a
patron of learning; and he instituted in his own palace a school for
his sons and servants. But he was a war-making king. He conducted in
all fifty-three expeditions in Germany, Gaul, Italy, and Greece, and
made himself the ruler of the greater part of Northern and Eastern
Europe. He went to Rome in 800 A.D. and received a most gracious
reception from the Pope, as in all his contests he had been a faithful
servant of the Church.
"On Christmas day, 800 A.D. he went into St. Peter's to attend mass.
He took his place before the altar, and, as he bowed his head to pray,
the Pope placed the crown of the Roman Empire upon it, and all the
people shouted, 'Long live Charles Augustus, crowned of God, the great
Emperor of the Romans!'
"And so the king of the Franks became the emperor of the world."
The relics which the cathedral exhibits from time to time at great
public festivals are remarkable as illustrations of the influence of
superstition. Among the so-called _Grandes Reliques_ are the robe worn
by the Virgin at the Nativity and the swaddling clothes in which the
infant Saviour was wrapped. It would be almost irreverent to excite
ridicule by giving a list of the articles associated with the
crucifixion of Christ. Among the _Petites Reliques_ are pieces of
Aaron's rod that budded. Upon these pretended relics the German
emperors used to take the State oath at their coronations.
[Illustration: HOTEL DE VILLE, GHENT.]
The Class next visited the coronation room in the Hotel de Ville, a
hall one hundred and sixty feet long, where a series of impressive
frescoes presents a view of the life of Charlemagne. In this hall
thirty-five German emperors and fourteen empresses had been crowned.
[Illustration: VAN ARTEVELDE AT HIS DOOR.]
The Class returned to Brussels, and thence made easy journeys
through a fertile and thickly settled country, towards Normandy.
Ghent, a grand old city of the commerce kings of Flanders, with its
quaint town-hall and its two hundred and seventy bridges, next met the
eager eyes of our tourists, who stopped here briefly on their way to
Bruges.
"I never hear the name of Ghent pronounced," said Master Lewis,
"without recalling the scene which history pictures of James van
Artevelde standing in the door of his house, when the burghers, tired
of the rule of kings and nobles, came to him for counsel, and asked
him to become their leader. It was really the burghers' declaration of
independence, and the making one of their number,--for James van
Artevelde was a brewer,--president of the rich old city. This was on
the 26th of December, 1337. It was a bold stroke for liberty in the
days of tyranny, and the memory of it will ever live."
"I know but little of the history of Bruges," said Wyllys Wynn to
Master Lewis, during the ride to that city. "I have heard, of course,
of its belfry, and I also remember what Tommy said about it in his
story of Philip the Good and the Tinker. What makes the city so
famous?"
"It was once," said Master Lewis, "the greatest commercial port in the
world; a hundred and fifty foreign vessels would sometimes enter its
basins in a single day. Its inhabitants became very rich, and its
grandees lived like princes. A French queen who visited it in its high
prosperity is said to have exclaimed, 'I thought myself the only queen
here, but I see a thousand about me!' Twenty ministers from foreign
courts had residences within its walls. It excelled all places in the
manufacture of wool; and in recognition of this fact Philip the Good
instituted there the Order of the Golden Fleece.
"There is an historic character whose name is associated with Bruges
in a very different way from Philip the Good,--a famous son of Philip,
who was called
CHARLES THE RASH.
"His surname is a picture of his character, and it seems strange that
so good a duke as Philip should have had so bad a son. To wage war,
harry and burn, to be engaged always in some work of destruction, was
the passion of his life. He devastated Normandy, destroying more than
two hundred castles and towns. He filled the land with smoke, and
colored the rivers with blood.
"He succeeded to the ducal crown of Burgundy in 1467. Being the
richest prince of the times, he immediately began to make preparations
for war on a gigantic scale, which should add all the neighboring
territories and provinces to Burgundy. He desired to extend his
personal power at any expense of blood and treasure, and he mapped out
plans of conquest and dreamed dazzling dreams.
"While he was getting ready for war, Louis XI. of France invited him
to a conference: he hesitated, and Louis, through his partisans,
incited the citizens of Liége to revolt against him. Charles then
consented to the conference, but as soon as Louis arrived, he
treacherously seized him and made him his prisoner. He forced him to
swear a treaty on a box which was believed to contain pieces of the
true cross, and which had belonged to Charlemagne. He then compelled
him to go with him to Liége, and apparently to sanction the punishment
of the people for the very revolt he had incited them to make.
"He conquered Lorraine, and planned to subdue Switzerland and add it
to Burgundy. He entered Switzerland, captured Grandson, and hanged and
drowned the garrison. The Swiss rose unitedly against such a merciless
foe, and utterly defeated him. But he raised another army and again
entered Switzerland, full of visions of conquest. He was again
defeated.
[Illustration: CHARLES THE RASH DISCOVERED.]
"He came back to Burgundy, morose and gloomy. His nails and beard grew
long; he looked like a wild man; the people recoiled from him, and
his dark character seemed to throw a shadow around him wherever he
appeared.
"Lorraine, which he had conquered, rose against him. This roused him
again to action: he hired soldiers, and led the way to war. He met the
rebellious Lorrainers in the plain of Nancy. Here the rash duke made
his last fight. It was a snowy day, and the battle was a short
one,--the soldiers of Charles flying quickly before the enemy.
"When the duke was preparing himself for the battle, the gilt lion
which formed the crest of his helmet fell off.
"'It is a sign from God,' said he, smitten in conscience.
"When the battle was over his body was nowhere to be found.
"They searched for it in the snow-covered fields. At last a Roman page
said he had seen the duke fall. He led the people towards a frozen
pond, where were some bodies lying, stripped. A washerwoman who had
joined in the search, saw the glitter of a jewel on the hand of a
corpse whose face was not visible. The head was frozen in the ice. The
position of the body was changed. It was Charles the Rash. He was
finally buried in the church of Notre Dame, whose spire you may
already see shining in the sun."
The story of Charles the Rash led the Class to visit the old church of
Notre Dame soon after their arrival in the courtly old city. It had a
greater charm for the boys than the ornate town-hall with its famous
belfry and its many bells. In a side chapel was the tomb of the rash
duke and that of his daughter, Mary of Burgundy.
"I can only think of the snowy field, and the naked body frozen in the
ice," said Ernest Wynn, as he left the solemn chapel.
The belfry of Bruges, of which so much has been said and sung, is
really only about three hundred feet high, but affords a grand view of
the surrounding country. Its chimes play by machinery four times an
hour, and are regarded the finest in Europe.
We must let Longfellow tell the charming story of his visit to the old
tower:--
In the market-place of Bruges stands the belfry old and brown;
Thrice consumed and thrice rebuilded, still it watches o'er the town.
As the summer morn was breaking, on that lofty tower I stood,
And the world threw off the darkness, like the weeds of widowhood.
Thick with towns and hamlets studded, and with streams and vapors gray,
Like a shield embossed with silver, round and vast the landscape lay.
At my feet the city slumbered. From its chimneys, here and there,
Wreaths of snow-white smoke, ascending, vanished, ghost-like, into air.
Not a sound rose from the city at that early morning hour,
But I heard a heart of iron beating in the ancient tower.
From their nests beneath the rafters sang the swallows wild and high;
And the world, beneath me sleeping, seemed more distant than the sky.
Then most musical and solemn, bringing back the olden times,
With their strange, unearthly changes rang the melancholy chimes,
Like the psalms from some old cloister, when the nuns sing in the
choir;
And the great bell tolled among them, like the chanting of a friar.
Visions of the days departed, shadowy phantoms filled my brain;
They who live in history only seemed to walk the earth again;
All the Foresters of Flanders,--mighty Baldwin Bras de Fer,
Lyderick du Bucq and Cressy Philip, Guy de Dampierre.
I beheld the pageants splendid that adorned those days of old;
Stately dames, like queens attended, knights who bore the Fleece
of Gold.
Lombard and Venetian merchants with deep-laden argosies;
Ministers from twenty nations; more than royal pomp and ease.
I beheld proud Maximilian, kneeling humbly on the ground;
I beheld the gentle Mary, hunting with her hawk and hound;
And her lighted bridal-chamber, where a duke slept with the queen,
And the armed guard around them, and the sword unsheathed between.
I beheld the Flemish weavers, with Namur and Juliers bold,
Marching homeward from the bloody battle of the Spurs of Gold;
Saw the fight at Minnewater, saw the White Hoods moving west,
Saw great Artevelde victorious scale the Golden Dragon's nest.
And again a whiskered Spaniard all the land with terror smote;
And again the wild alarum from the tocsin's throat,--
Till the bell of Ghent responded o'er lagoon and dike of sand,
"I am Roland! I am Roland! there is victory in the land!"
Then the sound of drums aroused me. The awakened city's roar
Chased the phantoms I had summoned back into their graves once more.
Hours had passed away like minutes; and, before I was aware,
Lo! the shadow of the belfry crossed the sun-illumined square.
On entering Normandy, Master Lewis engaged passages on diligences,
wherever a promise of a route amid pleasant scenery offered itself. It
seemed to be the boys' greatest delight to ride on the top of a
diligence.
These French stage-coaches are lofty, lumbering vehicles, composed of
three parts. The front division is called _coupé_, and is shaped
somewhat like an old-time chariot. It holds three persons. Next is the
_intérieur_ or inside, holding six persons, an apartment much shunned
in pleasant weather in summer time. Behind is the _rotonde_ which
collects "dust, dirt, and bad company." Over all is the _banquette_, a
castle-like position on the top of the coupé, a seat protected by a
hood, or head, and leather apron.
To secure this seat beside the "driver" was Tommy Toby's highest
ambition, when about to leave a newly visited place.
In one of these rides, when Tommy and Wyllys Wynn occupied this high
seat, Tommy said to the driver,--
"It seems strange to me to find such great forests in old countries
like England, Belgium, and France. I fancied that great tracts of wood
only existed in new lands like America, or half-civilized places. Are
there wild animals in the woods here?"
The driver was a French soldier, quite advanced in life. He spoke
English well, and seemed to enjoy giving the largest possible
information to his seat companions.
"Yes, there are some wild animals left in the forest," he said,--"of
the harmless kind. _Wild people_ have sometimes been found in the
largest tracts of forest."
"Wild people?" asked Tommy, his curiosity greatly excited. "Did you
ever see a wild man?"
"No, not myself. Did you ever hear of Peter the Wild Boy found in the
woods in Hanover?"
"Yes," said Tommy.
"There was a wild girl found in the French woods, not far from Paris,
about the same time."
"Will you not tell us the story?" asked Tommy.
The diligence lumbered along among the cool forest scenery, between
the walls of green trees which now and then, like suddenly opened
windows, afforded extended views; and the good-natured, well-informed
driver told the two boys the story of
THE WILD GIRL OF SONGI.
"In the year 1731, as a nobleman was hunting at Songi, near the
ancient and historic town of Chalons, on the river Champagne, in
France, he discovered a couple of objects at a distance in the water,
at which he fired, supposing them to be birds.
"They immediately disappeared, but arose at a point near the shore,
when they were found to be two children, evidently about a dozen years
of age.
"They carried to the shore some fish that they had caught, which they
tore in pieces with their teeth and devoured raw, without chewing.
"After their meal, one of them found a rosary, probably lost by some
devotee, with which she seemed highly delighted. She endeavored to
conceal it from her companion, but the latter made the discovery,
and, filled with rage and jealousy, inflicted a severe blow on the
hand containing the treasure. The other returned the blow, striking
her companion on the head with a heavy missile, and bringing her to
the ground with a cry of pain.
"The sisters, for such they probably were, parted. The one most
injured went towards the river and was never seen or heard of
afterwards. The other hurried off towards the hamlet of Songi.
"She was a strange and frightful-looking creature. Her color was
black, and her only clothing consisted of loose rags and the skins of
animals. The people of Songi fled to their houses and barred their
doors at the sight of her.
"She wandered about the place, greatly to the terror of the villagers,
but at last some adventurers determined to set a dog on her. She
awaited the attack coolly, but as soon as the monster came fairly
within her reach, she dealt him such a blow on the head as laid him
lifeless on the spot.
"The astonished peasants kept at a safe retreating distance, not
wishing a personal encounter with such a creature. She endeavored to
gain admittance to some of the houses, but the quaking occupants, who
seem to have fancied that the evil one himself had made his
appearance, securely fastened their doors and windows.
"She at length retired to the fields and climbed a tree, where she
sat, appearing to the spectators like an omen of ill to Songi.
"The Viscount d'Epinoy was stopping at Songi at this time, and,
supposing the creature to be a wild girl, offered a reward for her
capture.
"The excitement in the hamlet cooling, a party was formed to secure
the reward. The wild girl still remained in the tree, evidently taking
repose. Thinking that she must be thirsty, a bucket of water was
placed at the foot of the tree. She descended, looking cautiously
around, and drank, but immediately ascended to the top of the tree, as
though fearful of injury.
"She was at length allured to descend by a woman, who held out to her
fish and fruit. She was seized by stout men, and taken to the seat of
the viscount. One of her first acts was to devour raw some wild fowl,
which she found in the kitchen.
"After public curiosity had been satisfied, the viscount sent her to a
shepherd to be tamed. The latter found this no easy matter, and her
wildness and animal nature were exhibited in so marked a manner that
she became known as the shepherd's beast.
"She sometimes escaped. Once she was missing over night, when there
came a terrible snow-storm, and the poor shepherd wandered in search
of her. He discovered her at last housed just as she had been in
childhood, in the branches of a tree. The wind blew and the snow
drifted around her, but she was loth to return. She had learned that
trouble dwells in houses, and here in the tree-top, if she was cold,
she was free. I wonder if she thought of her sister in whose arms she
had doubtless slept in the trees, in her childhood.
"Her agility was marvellous. She would outrun the swiftest animals,
even the rabbits and hares. The Queen of Poland once took her on a
hunting excursion, and much amusement she afforded to the royal party.
She would discover game with the shrewdness of a bird of prey, and
having outrun and captured a hare, she would bring it with great
eagerness to the astonished and delighted queen.
"She was once set at the table with some people of rank, at a banquet.
She seemed delighted with the bright costumes, and the wit and gay
spirits of the guests. Presently she was gone. She returned at last
with something very choice in her apron, and with a face beaming with
happiness, she approached a fine lady, and holding up a live frog by
the leg said gleefully, 'Have some?'
"She dropped the frog into the plate of the startled guest, and
passing around the table, with a liberal supply of the reptiles, said,
'Have some? have some?'
"The ladies started back from such a dessert, and the poor girl felt
a pang of disappointment at the sudden rejection of the offering.
"She had gathered the frogs from a pond near at hand.
"It was a long time before she became accustomed to the habits of
civilization. She died in a convent."
"What a strange history!" said Wyllys Wynn. "She must have found her
life in the convent very different from that of her childhood. What
was her name?"
"They called her Maria le Blanc."