These were the days when the noble city of Ghent refused to pay the
tax which her son, the Emperor Charles, was demanding of her. The
fact was it was impossible to pay, for already the city was drained
of money by the act of Charles himself. But it seemed that the city
was guilty of a great crime, and Charles resolved to go himself and
exact punishment. For to be whipped by her own son is above all things
painful to a mother.
Now, although he was his enemy, Francis Long-Nose was pleased to offer
the Emperor a free passage through the land of France. Charles accepted
the offer, and instead of being held as a prisoner, he was feted and
feasted in right royal fashion. For this is ever a sovereign bond of
union between kings: each to aid the other against their own peoples.
Charles stayed a long time at Valenciennes, and still gave no sign
of his wrath, so that Mother Ghent began to lay aside her fears,
believing that the Emperor her son was going to forgive her, seeing
that she had acted within her rights.
But at length Charles arrived under the walls of the city with 4000
horse, together with the Duke of Alba and the Prince of Orange. The
poorer townsfolk and the small business men wished to prevent
this filial entry into their city, and would have called to arms
80,000 men of the city and of the country round. But the merchants,
the hoogh-poorters, opposed this suggestion, being afraid of the
predominance of the people. Thus Ghent could easily have cut her son
to pieces, him and his 4000 horse. But it seemed she loved him too
dearly, and even the small tradesmen themselves were fast regaining
their trust in him.
Charles also loved the city, but only for the sake of his coffers that
were stored with her money, and which he hoped to store up fuller yet.
Having made himself master of the place, he established military
posts everywhere, and ordered that they should patrol the city night
and day. Then, in great state, he pronounced his sentence.
The chief merchants of the city with cords round their necks
were to appear before him as he sat on his throne, and to make
a formal apology. Ghent itself was declared guilty of the most
costly crimes--of disloyalty, disregard of treaties, disobedience,
sedition, conspiracy, and high treason. The Emperor declared that
all and every privilege--rights, customs, freedoms, and usages--all
were to be abolished and annulled; and he stipulated for the future
too, as though he were God himself, that none of his successors on
coming to the throne should ever observe any one of these usages
again, except only that which was called the Caroline Concession,
as granted by him to the city.
The Abbey of St. Bavon he razed to the ground, and in place he erected
a fortress whence he could pierce with bullets and at his ease his
mother's very heart. Like a good son that is in a hurry for his
inheritance, he confiscated all the riches of Ghent, its revenues,
its houses, its artillery and munitions of war. Finding it still
too well guarded, he destroyed also the Red Tower, the Tower of the
Trou de Crapaud, the Braampoort, the Steenpoort, the Waalpoort, the
Ketelpoort, and many another of its gates, all carved as they were
and sculptured like jewels in stone.
And afterwards, when strangers came to Ghent, they would ask of
one another:
"Can this indeed be Ghent whose marvels were on the lips of all--this
city so desolated and brought low?"
And the people of Ghent would make answer:
"Charles the Emperor has been to the city. He has ravished her
sacred zone."
And so saying they would be filled with anger and with shame. And
from the ruins of the city gates did the Emperor take away the bricks
wherewith to build his castle.
For it was his will that Ghent should be utterly impoverished, that
thereby he might make it impossible for her ever to oppose his proud
designs, either by her labour or her industry or wealth; therefore he
condemned her to pay that share of the tax of 400,000 caroluses which
she had previously refused him, and in addition 150,000 caroluses down,
and 6000 more every year in perpetuity. Moreover, in earlier days
the city had lent him money upon which he should have paid interest
at the rate of 150 pounds gross annually. But he made himself remit
by force the notes of credit, and by paying off his debt in this way
he actually enriched himself.
Many and many a time had Ghent cherished him and succoured him, but
now he struck her on the breast as it were with a dagger, looking
for blood, since it seemed he had not there found milk enough.
Last shame of all, he cast his eye upon the bell that is called
Roelandt; and the man who had sounded the alarm thereon, bidding all
the citizens to defend the rights of their city, him he had bound and
hung to the clapper of the bell. And he had no pity upon Roelandt, the
very tongue of his mother, the tongue whereby she spake to all the land
of Flanders, Roelandt the proud bell that sings of herself this song:
When I ring there is a fire
When I peal there is a storm
In the land of Flanders.
And thinking that his mother had too loud a voice he carried away her
bell. And the people of the country round would say that Ghent was
dead, now that her son had wrenched away her tongue with his pincers
of iron.