From the Belfry we visited the ancient Church of St. Brice which stands in one of the very oldest quarters of the city. Almost facing the church are two buildings known as the Roman houses. Although hardly dating from the time of the Romans they are undoubtedly very ancient. Only the outer walls, however, remain of the original construction, the interiors dating from a much later period. One of these houses was untenanted when we were there, and the other was an estaminet. We entered it and ordered drinks, and asked if we could see the up-stairs rooms, but apparently they were not very tidy as the landlady declined to show them, assuring us that there was nothing to see. At No. 18 on the same street, rue Barre-Saint-Brice, is another estaminet in a house of very ancient construction. After quite a search we found the caretaker of the church. As old as the oldest part of the cathedral this structure is a remarkable example of Romanesque architecture. Externally it looks from the rear like three stone barns built close together, but its square tower is lofty and imposing, although much injured by a silly sort of hat which was stuck on early in the last century. The most interesting object within was a quaint Tournai tapestry representing a variety of Biblical subjects.
In the year 1653 archeologists and historians throughout Europe were greatly excited over one of the most interesting finds of ancient relics ever recorded. In the house now No. 8 on the Terrace Saint-Brice, on one side of the church, was dug up at a depth of eight feet a veritable museum of arms and jewels since known as the Treasure of Childeric I, whose marriage with Basina was preceded by so many portents. More than a hundred gold coins of the Byzantine Emperors were found, several hundred golden bees, a quantity of silver money of great antiquity, divers clasps and buckles—all mingled with the remains of human bones, which may have been those of the Merovingian King and his imperious spouse. One ring bore a bust of a man with long hair holding a lance, with the inscription Childerici Regis. After passing through various hands the collection came into the possession of Louis XIV, and eventually into the Bibliotheque Royale at Paris. Here, in 1831, it was stolen. The thieves were pursued and threw their booty into the Seine, where a few pieces were afterwards recovered and are now in the numismatic collection of the Bibliotheque Nationale at Paris.
Not far from this interesting old quarter are some picturesque remains of the ancient city walls, two ivy covered towers facing a moat in which there is still some water. These are called the Marvis Towers, and were erected during the thirteenth century. On our way back to the station we made a little detour in order to see the curious Pont des Trous—literally “the Bridge of the Holes,” meaning loopholes—the most ancient specimen of mediæval military architecture in Belgium. The tower on the side farthest from the centre of the city was built prior to 1259, the other in 1304, and the bridge with its three ogival arches in 1330. Across the bridge at short intervals are narrow loopholes to enable the defenders to fire at foes approaching by way of the River Scheldt. One of the towers is said to contain a fine vaulted room, but as we were unable to find any one who knew who had the key to the little door at its foot we did not see this room or the passage-way across the bridge. Between this bridge and the railway line we noticed a high stone wall of ancient construction which, from its location, may also have been a fragment of the city walls. Further on is the Henry VIII tower, which was built by the English monarch after he captured the city in 1513, as part of a citadel intended to hold the citizens in check. The tower is slightly over seventy-five feet in diameter and the walls at the base are said to be twenty feet thick. The rest of the citadel has long since disappeared and this vestige of it is now the centre of a pleasant little park much frequented on sunny days by nursemaids and children. Amid these peaceful surroundings it was, when we saw it, hard to picture the old tower as having ever been the scene of fierce conflicts with furious foes striving to batter a breach in its massive walls or scale it with long ladders, while its defenders fired volley after volley through its tiny windows and flung down big stones or boiling tar from its parapet.
The strategy of the early part of the present war did not call for a protracted defence of Tournai, with the result that, as this is being written, the old city is reported to have suffered little or no damage. In view of the frequency with which it had been contended for in former wars it is to be hoped that this one—which has so far been more destructive than all previous wars put together—will pass quaint old Tournai by and that the great cathedral with its five towers and marvellous stone carvings may be spared for generations yet to come.
[CHAPTER XIII]
SEVEN CENTURIES OF TOURNAISIAN ART
The citizens of Tournai of to-day have given to their beautiful city the name of “Ville d’Art.” To be sure, the same title is claimed for Bruges and Ghent, for Antwerp and Malines. The first two are justly proud of their many beautiful monuments of the past and their associations with the work of the early Flemish painters, Antwerp of its connection with the later development of painting in Flanders and the most artistic of the early printers, Malines of its lace and its splendid examples of religious architecture and art. Tournai, however, has a broader title to the phrase than any of them in that the artistic activities of its gifted sons have not been confined to one medium or two, but have been independently developed along half a score of different lines and during a period covering more than seven centuries. Not only is the city a rich repository of the artistic productions of past ages, but it is still more notable in having been one of the most prolific producers of beautiful and artistic things. To the true connoisseur a stay of several weeks in this fine old border town would be none too long to afford opportunity to study all of its collections and rummage in out-of-the-way corners for stray specimens that the dealers and bargain hunters have overlooked. Unfortunately, neither the Professor nor I can lay claim to more than a rudimentary knowledge of such matters and in the chronicle of our rambles in the City of Art there may be much to make the judicious grieve. It is not, however, so much in order to give an account of what we saw that this chapter is written as in the hope that it may suggest how much there is to see for those whose eyes are better trained and more discriminating than ours.
Tournai looms large in the history of early Flemish painting, for it was here that the next important group of masters after the Van Eycks appeared. As early as the first half of the fourteenth century paintings on cloth were executed at Tournai, followed by what was termed “flat painting” for panels. About 1406 the first of the great artists whose names have come down to us settled at Tournai. This was Robert Campin. He acquired the right of citizenship in 1410 and died in 1444, being thus a contemporary of the Van Eycks. He is known to have painted many works, but until recently none of these had been definitely identified. Now, thanks to the earnest and patient study of Belgian scholars, he seems likely to be given his rightful place as one of the greatest of the early Flemish masters—after having been completely forgotten for nearly five hundred years! His most important work is an altarpiece in the possession of the Mérode family at Brussels, while the Frankfort Museum and the Prado at Madrid contain some fine examples of his skill.