To a man accustomed to mould his thoughts by what he sees in Great Britain, the strong fortifications that surround almost all towns on the Continent convey the most disagreeable sensations——reminding him of the first misery of Mankind, War!——denoting, alas! too truly, the disposition of Man to violate the rights of his fellow-creatures, and manifesting the tyrannous abuse of power. On me, though trained and accustomed to military habits, this “dreadful note of preparation” had an unpleasing effect; for, though born, bred and habituated to the life of the Soldier, I find the feelings of the Citizen and the Man claim a paramount right to my heart.
Ghent was once extremely well fortified, and calculated, by nature as well as by art, to repel encroachment. It had a very strong castle, walls and ditches; and now, though not otherwise strong, the country may, by shutting up the sluices, be, for above a mile round, laid in a very short time under water. It was formerly so populous and powerful, that it declared war more than once against its Sovereign, and raised amazing armies. In the year 1587, it suffered dreadfully from all the ravages of famine, under which a number not less than three thousand of its inhabitants perished in one week.
This town is distinguished by the nativity of two celebrated characters: one was the famous John of Gaunt, son of King Edward the Third of England; the other, the Emperor Charles the Fifth, who was born there in the year 1500.
It was in this city that the Confederation of the States, well known under the title of the Pacification of Ghent, which united the Provinces in the most lasting union of interest and laws, was held: this union was chiefly owing to the vigorous, unremitted efforts of William the First, Prince of Orange, to whose valour and virtue may be attributed the independence of the United States.
In this city there were computed to be fifty companies of Tradesmen, among whom were manufactured a variety of very curious and rich cloths, stuffs, and silks: it is certain, that the woollen manufacture flourished here before it had made the smallest progress in England, whose wool they then bought. There was also a good branch of linen manufacture here, and a pretty brisk corn trade, for which it was locally well calculated. You will observe, once for all, that in speaking of this Country, I generally use the past tense; for, at present, they are utterly undone.
Ghent was the See of a Bishop, who, like the Bishop of Bruges, was Suffragan to the Archbishop of Mechlin. Thus, in most Christian Countries, are the intellects, the consciences, and the cash too, of the People, shut up and hid from the light, by Priest within Dean, and Dean within Bishop——like a ring in the hand of a conjurer, box within box——till at last they are enveloped in the great receptacle of all deception, the capacious pocket of the Archbishop. Let not sceptered Tyrants, their legions, their scaffolds, and their swords, bear all the infamy of the slavery of Mankind! Opinion, opinion, under the management of fraud and imposture, is the engine that forges their fetters!!——Jansenius, from whom the Jansenists took their name, was the first Bishop of this place; and the late Bishop, I think, may be reckoned the last.
The Municipal Government of this city is correct, and well calculated to secure internal peace and order. The chief magistrate is the High Bailiff; subordinate to whom are Burgomasters, Echivins, and Counsellors.
Ghent is not deficient in stately edifices; and, true to their system, the Holy Fathers of the Church have their share, which, in old Popish Countries, is at least nineteen twentieths. In the middle of the town is a high tower, called Belfort tower; from whence there is a delightful prospect over the whole city and its environs. Monasteries and Churches, there, are without number; besides hospitals and market-places: that called Friday’s market, is the largest of all, and is adorned with a statue of Charles the Fifth, in his imperial robes. The Stadthouse is a magnificent structure——So is the Cathedral, under which the Reverend Fathers have built a subterraneous Church. What deeds are those which shun the light! Why those Holy Patriarchs have such a desire for burying themselves, and working like moles under ground, they themselves best know, and I think it is not difficult for others to conjecture.
This Cathedral, however, is well worth attention, on account of some capital pictures it contains. The marble of the Church is remarkably fine, and the altar-piece splendid beyond all possible description; and, indeed, in all the others, there are paintings, eminent for their own excellence, and for the celebrity of the masters who painted them.
In the Monastery of St. Pierre, there is a grand library, filled with books in all languages; but it is chiefly remarkable for the superlative beauty of its ceiling, one half of which was painted by Rubens.