"IN BELGIUM'S CAPITAL."
"Gand!" shouted the guard, as he walked along the step before the doors
of the compartments, just as the train entered the station.
"I suppose that means Ghent," said Paul.
"Yes; Gand is the French name of the place," replied Dr. Winstock.
"There are many cities in Europe which you would not recognize by their
foreign appellations."
As the train stopped the whistle of the Young America's boatswain called
the students together, and Mr. Lowington told them they could stay only
two hours in the place.
"Ghent is situated at the junction of the River Lys with the Scheldt,"
said Professor Mapps, who, to the astonishment of the boys, seemed to be
plumed for a lecture. "The numerous branches of these rivers, either
natural or artificial, form canals which extend in all directions
through the city. The town may be said to be composed of twenty-six
islands, which are connected together by no less than eighty bridges.
The grand canal extends from the lower Scheldt to the town, by means of
which ships drawing eighteen feet can come up to the basin. All these
canals are navigable for boats or vessels. It is surrounded by a wall
seven or eight miles in extent, for its defence. On the grand canal,
half way between the city and the West Scheldt, there are sluices, by
which the whole country could be laid under water in case of invasion by
an enemy.
"Ghent has been called the Manchester of Belgium, on account of its
being so largely engaged in cotton manufactures. Its factories are
operated by steam power. The population in 1863 was one hundred and
twenty-two thousand. The cultivation of flowers is largely carried on
here, there being about four hundred hot-houses in the immediate
vicinity of the city.
"Ghent is a very old city, and occupies a prominent place in history. In
the days of Charles the Bold it was the capital of Flanders. Charles V.,
Emperor of Germany, was born here. It was formerly a city of vast
importance, and at one time its wealth and power had increased to such
an extent, that it was regarded as the rival of Paris. '_Je mettrais
Paris dans mon Gand_,' Charles V. used to say, as he proudly
contemplated this great city. What does it mean?"
"I could put Paris into my glove," replied one of the French scholars
near the professor. "But _gant_ is the French word for _glove_."
"Near enough for a pun, and much nearer than modern punsters often get
it," continued Mr. Mapps. "Ghent, in former days, had the reputation of
being a turbulent city, and its people were bold and warlike. They have
always been forward in asserting and defending their liberties; and you
will find that the burghers of Ghent figure largely in Mr. Motley's
Histories. I will not detain you longer now, but, as we pass through the
city, I shall have something more to say about its historic character."
A sufficient number of vehicles had been gathered during the professor's
lecture to enable the students to make the most of their limited time in
Ghent. They went first to the _Beffroi_, or Belfry-tower. It is a kind
of watch-tower, two hundred and eighty feet high, built in the twelfth
century. The structure is square, and is surmounted by a gilt dragon. It
contains a chime of bells, and a huge bell weighing five tons. The
records of the city were formerly kept in the lower part of the
building, which is now degraded into a prison. The entrance to the tower
is through a shop, and the view from the top is very fine.
The Cathedral of St. Bavon, the Church of St. Michael, and the Hotel de
Ville, or Town Hall, were pointed out, and the carriages stopped in the
Marche au Vendredi, a large square, or market-place, which takes its
name from the day on which the sale is held. The phrase means Friday
Market. Mr. Mapps explained the use of the square, and pointed out the
ancient buildings with Flemish gables, which look like a flight of
stairs on each slope, which surrounds it.
"This was the grand meeting-place of the citizens of Ghent," he
continued; "the counts of Flanders were inaugurated here with great
ceremony and splendor. Here the trades-unions, or societies of weavers,
used to meet. Here the standard of rebellion was planted, and the people
rallied around it to overthrow their oppressors. Here Jacques van
Artevelde, the Brewer of Ghent, encountered a hostile association, and
fought one of the most furious combats known in history. He was called
the Brewer of Ghent, because, though of noble family, he joined the
society of brewers to flatter the vanity of the lower classes. His
partisans were chiefly weavers, and his opponents the fullers. In the
midst of the strife the host--the consecrated bread and wine of the
Catholic mass--was brought into the square, in order to separate the
furious artisans; but it was disregarded, and the bodies of fifteen
hundred citizens were left on this spot.
"Van Artevelde, whose statue you see before you," added the professor,
pointing to the object, "was a person of great influence. He was the
ally of Edward III. of England, and had raised himself to the position
of _Ruwaert_, or Protector of Flanders, by banishing its hereditary
counts. By his advice, the King of England had added the _fleur de lis_,
or lilies of France, to the British arms, claiming to be King of France.
He courted the aid of the Flemish people, who were very powerful,--for
it was said that Ghent alone could furnish eighty thousand fighting
men,--in order to establish his claim to rule France.
"Edward obtained the assistance of the Flemings; but he did not conquer
France, though he gained some splendid victories, in which the famous
Black Prince figured. Van Artevelde began to dread the vengeance of the
hereditary counts of Flanders, whose power he had usurped, and in 1344
he invited Edward to meet him at Sluis. Here the Brewer proposed to make
Edward's son--the Black Prince--sovereign of Flanders, in order to
secure the protection of England. He relied upon his influence with the
citizens to induce them to submit to this arrangement; but the stout
burghers rejected the proposal with contempt and indignation.
"During Van Arteveldt's absence, a popular insurrection was fomented
against him; and, on his return, as he rode through the streets, he was
made conscious of the storm that was brewing against the Brewer. He went
to his house, and barricaded the doors; but the street was soon filled
by the mob. He addressed them from a window; but they would not hear
him, and he attempted to escape by a back door into an adjoining church.
Failing to accomplish this purpose, the infuriated people broke in upon
him, and he was killed.
"In this square, also, were kindled the fires of the Inquisition by the
Duke of Alva, at the command of Philip II., and thousands perished in
the barbarous persecution.
"The rebellious spirit of the people of Ghent was very trying to Charles
V. He demanded of them an enormous sum of money, to enable him to carry
on a war against France. The burghers put the town in a state of
defence, and privately offered their allegiance to Francis I. of France.
He declined the offer, and maliciously informed Charles of it, who
marched an army through France to punish the treason of his subjects in
Ghent. Commanding this army in person, he reached the gates of the city,
and surrounded its walls, before the people were aware of his presence.
"The utmost consternation prevailed in the town, and messengers were
sent to the emperor to sue for forgiveness. Without granting any terms
to the rebels, he imperiously demanded that the gates should be opened.
His command was obeyed, and the Spanish army marched into the town. The
Duke of Alva suggested that the entire city should be destroyed; but
Charles satisfied himself with beheading fourteen of the ringleaders of
the rebellion, and confiscating their property. The principal officers
of the city were ordered to appear before the emperor barefoot and
bare-headed, clothed in black gowns, and with halters around their
necks. They were compelled to sue for pardon on their knees. As an
additional penalty, the magistrates were forbidden to appear in public
without a halter on their necks, as a badge of their ignominy. The rope
was worn; but, in the lapse of time, it became a silken cord, tied in a
true-lover's knot, and was regarded as an ornament which the magistrate
could not dispense with.
"In 1570, when the people attempted to shake off the Spanish rule, the
citadel or fortress at the Porte d'Anvers (which has been demolished)
was besieged by the Prince of Orange. It was gallantly defended by the
Spaniards for a long time; but, at last, three thousand of the burghers
of Ghent, clothed in white shirts as a distinguishing mark, assaulted
the citadel. Their scaling-ladders were not long enough, and the attack
failed. On the following day, while preparations were in progress to
renew the attack, the Spaniards capitulated. When suitable terms had
been agreed upon, the garrison, only one hundred and fifty in number,
marched out under the command of a woman. It appeared then that the
governor of the fortress was absent, and that the Spaniards had been
commanded, during the protracted siege, by his wife."
This was rather a long speech to be made in the public square; but the
boys, interested in the professor's remarks, gathered closely around
him; and it is not probable that many of the Ghenters who had been
attracted to the square by the unwonted scene understood a word that was
said. The carriages next proceeded to the Beguinage, a kind of convent
or nunnery. The establishment is a little town by itself, with streets,
squares, and gates, and is surrounded by a wall and moat. In the centre
there is a church. The houses are occupied by the Beguines, a sisterhood
of nuns in Belgium which has six thousand members. They are bound by no
vows, as ordinary nuns are, and may therefore return to the world at
pleasure, marry, and come back in their widowhood. They act as Sisters
of Charity in the city, and some of them are wealthy; but all wear the
garb of the order. There are about six hundred of them in this colony.
On the door of each house is the name of the patron saint of the
occupant.
The drive was continued through some of the principal streets of Ghent;
and, within a few moments of the appointed time, the students were again
seated in the railway carriages. The road to Bruges extends along the
side of the canal from Ostend to Ghent, which has high banks, lined
nearly all the way with tall trees. The view from the windows of the
train was interesting rather than picturesque. In an hour the train
stopped at its destination; but it was after six o'clock, and there was
no time for Professor Mapps to make any long speeches, though Bruges
had a history hardly less exciting than that of Ghent. It takes its name
from the great number of _bridges_ which it contains; for the place,
like Ghent, is cut up by canals.
Bruges was once a rich and powerful city, reputed to contain two hundred
thousand inhabitants; but, like nearly all the Flemish cities, it has
declined from its former grandeur, and now contains only fifty-one
thousand, nearly a third of whom are paupers. In the fifteenth century,
the Dukes of Burgundy held their court here; it had an immense foreign
commerce, and its warehouses were filled with the silks and woollens
manufactured in the vicinity. All this has passed away, the town has the
aspect of a ruined place, and its lofty and elegant public
buildings--the remains of former prosperity--seem to mock its present
desolation.
Fine houses may be hired in Bruges at a rent of from sixty to a hundred
dollars a year. It is said that a house has not been built in the city
for a century, for the reason that its diminishing inhabitants were more
than supplied by those which had once accommodated four times its
present population. The place is dead and dull. The streets are nearly
empty. A man-servant finds himself upon a hundred dollars a year, and a
French teacher charges twenty cents an hour for his services.
The Church of Notre Dame contains the tombs of Charles the Bold and of
his daughter Mary. La Chapelle du Saint Sang takes its name from several
drops of the blood of the Savior, which are said to have been brought
from the Holy Land. They were presented to the town, and are kept in a
richly jewelled shrine, which is exhibited to visitors at half a franc a
head. The famous order of the Knights of the Golden Fleece, so often
mentioned by Motley, whose emblems are seen in many of the churches of
Belgium, was established at Bruges, by Philip the Good, Duke of
Burgundy. The weavers of Flanders had carried the manufacture of wool to
a degree of perfection which added greatly to the prosperity of the
country, and the Golden Fleece was a fitting symbol of the industry of
the people, as well as a compliment to their skill.
The great point of interest in Bruges to the students of the squadron
was "The Belfry of Bruges," which Longfellow has celebrated in his poem
of that name, and in the "Carillon." It is a beautiful Gothic tower, on
an antique building known as _Les Halles_, or The Market, a part of
which was intended for a meat market, and a part for a cloth hall. The
spire, or belfry, is two hundred and ninety feet high. It contains the
finest set of chimes in Europe. They play four times an hour, and their
music is almost incessant. The machinery by which they are operated
consists of an immense metallic cylinder, or drum, covered all over with
cogs and pins, like that in a music-box. As this drum turns by the
action of a huge weight, the pins strike against the levers that
communicate with the bells. For half an hour on Sunday they are played
by hand, as at Antwerp.
The praise bestowed upon the chimes seemed to the students to be well
merited. There is nothing more touching and beautiful than the music of
these bells. The boys could not help taking in the inspiration they
imparted; and when it transpired that Mr. Modelle, the professor of
elocution, had a copy of Longfellow in his pocket, they almost
unanimously insisted that the poems relating to the scene should be
read. They gathered around him, the circle closely flanked by the men,
women, and children of the dull old town, who had apparently been roused
from their lethargy by the advent of the young Americans. In his deep
bass tones he read the Carillon first.
"In the ancient town of Bruges,
In the quaint old Flemish city,
As the evening shades descended,
Low and loud, and sweetly blended,
Low at times and loud at times,
And changing like a poet's rhymes,
Rang the beautiful wild chimes
From the belfry in the market
Of the ancient town of Bruges."
The students listened with almost breathless interest till the last line
of the "Belfry" was read; there was something so grand and beautiful in
the poem itself, as the images of the past are brought up,--
"I beheld the pageants, splendid,
That adorned those days of old:
Stately dames like queens attended,
Knights who bore the Fleece of Gold,"--
and something in the association of the living lines with the real
belfry of Bruges before them, that the impression was one to be
remembered for years.
After a hasty walk through a couple of the ancient streets of the city,
the students returned to the railroad station, and the train started for
Brussels, a ride of about two hours from Bruges. It was half past nine
when they arrived at the capital of Belgium. The party were greeted by
Mr. Fluxion, who had been sent direct from Antwerp to make arrangements
for their stay over night. Captain Kendall, his officers and crew, were
sent to the Hotel Royal in the Rue Fosse aux Loups. It was a small
hotel, but very nice and comfortable. Mr. Molenschot, the proprietor,
spoke English, but he appeared to be the only person in the house who
could do so. He was very polite and attentive to the students, and spoke
familiarly and pleasantly to them about "my hotel."
Mr. Fluxion himself had a faculty for keeping a hotel, and understood
precisely what tired travellers wanted when they came in late in the
evening; and he had ordered, in addition to the _the complet_, the
_bif-stek_ and _pomme de terre_. The boys were as hungry as wolves, and
the solid part of the entertainment was very inviting. Each dish of
beefsteak was covered over with nicely browned fried potatoes. In a few
moments there was hardly a vestige of the feast remaining on the table.
The Young America's ship's company were quartered at the Hotel de
l'Univers, and the Hotel de Suede, so that the party was separated; and
Paul was rather glad of it, because there were some belonging to the
ship who were not influenced by the motives which prevailed in the
Josephine. He could control his crew, even without the aid of Mr.
Fluxion, who, with several of the professors also lodged at the Royal.
They were a jolly party at the supper table; and as none of the waiters
spoke a word of English, there was a great deal of fun made in giving
their orders; but everybody was remarkably good-natured, including the
waiters themselves.
"Waiter," called Lynch, who, as a general rule, was not guilty of
knowing much about any of his studies, "bring me the _bur_."
The servant took no notice of him.
"Call him a _garcon_" said Grossbeck.
"_Garcon!_" shouted Lynch.
"_Monsieur_," replied the man.
"Bring me the _bur_."
"You might as well call for a Canada thistle," laughed Duncan, who was
one of the best French scholars in the Josephine.
"I want some butter; I have eaten up all the _bif-stek_, and all the
_pomme de terres_, and now I want some bread and butter. These fellows
don't understand their own language."
"_M'apportez du beurre_," added Duncan.
"_Oui, oui, oui!_" exclaimed the waiter, producing the required article.
"That's the idea," replied Lynch; "that man's improving. But this
_beurre_ is so fresh I can't eat it; I want some salt."
"Call for it, then," laughed Duncan.
"I will; here's a go. _Garcon_, mapperty sellier!"
"Good!" roared Duncan. "If we had a saddle of mutton for supper, I
should suppose you would want what you called for."
"I want the salt."
"I thought you did; and that's the reason why you called for a saddler."
"I didn't call for any saddler. I said _sellier_."
"Precisely so; and that is a saddler."
"What shall I say?"
"_Sel._"
"_Sel_; _sellier_. Well, I knew there was a sell about it somewhere."
"Precisely; but you were sold. I advise you not to make any long
speeches in French."
"You may bet your life I shall not," replied Lynch.
"Just mention the thing you want in one word; then you won't confuse
_garcon's_ intellect by flooding it with ideas."
"_Garcon--sel_," added Lynch, acting upon this excellent advice.
The waiter brought the _sel_, and nobody was sold this time.
"I think I shall pick up the French language in time," added Lynch,
encouraged by his success.
"Perhaps you will, but the Hotel Royal will have crumbled to dust before
that happy event occurs."
There was any quantity of blunders made at the table, and some of the
students had nearly choked themselves to death with laughing at them,
and at the blank looks of the waiters when spoken to in a tongue which
Mr. Fluxion declared sounded more like Low Dutch than decent French. Mr.
Molenschot laughed too, and intimated that "my hotel" had never been so
lively before.
"What now, Captain Kendall?" said Mr. Fluxion, when the supper and the
blunders had ended.
"My officers and crew wish to take a little walk," replied Paul.
"What! to-night?. It is after ten o'clock."
"They wish to see how 'Belgium's capital' looks in the evening."
"Of course you can do as you think best; but I advise you to be cautious
with them. They may get into trouble in a strange city, or get lost. If
some of them can't speak French any better than they did at supper, they
will have to go to the watch-house, because they can't ask the way
back."
"They can say _Hotel Royal_. None of my crew have ever got into trouble
since the ship's company was organized," added Paul, who wanted to go
out himself, and could not deny to others what he took himself.
The permission was given to walk till eleven o'clock, but the boys were
admonished to behave properly, and to return punctually. Lynch and
Grossbeck, who still clung together as fast friends, left the hotel in
company.
"This is jolly--isn't it?" said Lynch, as they passed out of the Rue
Fosse aux Loups into the Place de la Monnaie, a small square in front of
the Theatre Royal.
"For less than an hour," added Grossbeck, gloomily.
"We don't understand French, and so we can't tell what time it is,"
laughed Lynch.
"That won't go down. We were told to be back at eleven."
"But if we don't know what time it is, we can't be tied to the
bell-rope."
"No use; the captain knows the boom from the bobstay, and if he isn't a
Knight of the Golden Fleece, you can't pull wool over his eyes. You know
he put McDougal through this morning."
"Well, come along. We'll have a good time while it does last," replied
Lynch, apparently appalled by recalling the summary treatment of his
shipmate.
"Everybody seems to be having a good time here," said Grossbeck, as they
passed a _cafe_, in front of which were a great number of small tables,
at which gentlemen were drinking, smoking, and carrying on noisy
conversation. "I don't see any reason why we should not. What are they
drinking there?"
"Beer, or wine, I suppose," answered Lynch, as he led the way he knew
not whither, turning to the left, because the street in that direction
looked more lively than the others.
There was nothing to be seen, as most of the shops were closed; but they
continued on their way till they came to a kind of arcade, a building
which contained a broad passage-way, opening from the street, with a
large number of little shops on either side.
The interior was brilliantly lighted, and most of the small stores were
devoted to fancy goods and other showy articles. The young seamen
entered the arcade, in which many people were promenading.
"They say this city is a second edition of Paris on a small scale,"
continued Lynch. "This is very well got up; but from what I have seen of
the town, it looks like a one-horse city. The streets are not much wider
than a cow-path."
"But they say it is like Paris," added Grossbeck.
"My eyes! there's a clock that speaks English! It is half past ten,"
exclaimed Lynch. "But I'm not going back to the Hotel Royal till I've
had a little fun. There's a what-you-call-it, where they sell wine.
Let's go in, and see what it's like."
The place indicated was a wine-shop, and the two boys entered, seating
themselves at one of the little tables. The prompt waiter came to them,
bowed and scraped, and flourished a napkin, and hinted that he would be
happy to take their order.
"What will you have, Grossbeck?"
"I'll take a glass of wine."
"Let's see you take it!" laughed Lynch. "What shall we call for? I don't
remember a word of French, now that I want to use it."
"Perhaps the _garcon_ can speak English. Ask him."
"Ask him? What shall I say?"
"O, I know. _Parlez-vous Angleterre?_" added Grossbeck, turning to the
waiter.
"_Non, monsieur_," replied the waiter, who did not speak "England."
"O, confound it! What's the Dutch for wine?" demanded Lynch,
impatiently.
"I know--_eau de vie_. _Garcon, eau de vie_," replied Grossbeck,
confidently.
The waiter disappeared, and presently returned with a small decanter and
two minute wine-glasses.
"I knew _eau de vie_ would bring it," added Grossbeck, as he filled the
little glasses.
"That's pretty strong wine," said Lynch, when he had swallowed the
contents of the glass with a very wry face.
"That's so."
They looked about them till the clock indicated that it was time to
start for the hotel; but they decided to repeat the dose from the
decanter, and did so.
"That's the strongest wine I ever drank," said Grossbeck.
"How much is it?" asked Lynch.
"Let's see--_combien?_"
"_Un franc cinquante centimes_," replied the waiter, after he had
glanced at a gauge on the decanter which indicated the quantity of the
fiery fluid that had been consumed.
Neither of them could understand the answer, and Grossbeck handed the
_garcon_ a franc. The man shook his head, and held out his hand for
more. Lynch gave him another franc, and he returned a half franc piece.
"_Pour boire?_" said the man with a winning smile.
"Poor bwar! Who's he?" demanded Lynch, in whose head the strong water
was producing its effect. "He means 'poor boy.' I say, Grossbeck, does
he think I'm--I'm sizzled? I feel so myself. Come, let's go."
They rose, and moved in a serpentine path to the door.
"_Pour boire?_" repeated the _garcon_, following them.
"That's what's the matter. I'm a poor boy! I was a fool to drink more'n
one nip of your camphene," hickuped Lynch. "Here, old fellow, here's a
half of one of those francs. Don't say nothing more about it. I'm a poor
boy, but I shall get over it."
The young tippler handed the half-franc piece to the waiter, who bowed,
scraped, flourished his napkin, and fled.