But for the great disaster at Nancy, it is altogether probable that Charles the Bold would, before very long, have sought to chastise the burghers of Ghent as he did those of Liége, but his unexpected death, and the ruin of his plans, gave the citizens at least a brief period of respite from the tyranny that had been pressing more and more heavily upon them since the “bloody sea of Gavre.” His daughter, Marie, was only nineteen when her father’s fall placed her at the mercy of the turbulent communes, and at Ghent as well as Bruges she was forced to grant a charter restoring the many privileges that Charles and Philip the Good had taken away. She was even helpless to save the lives of two of her most trusted counsellors, who were accused by the men of Ghent of treacherous correspondence with their wily enemy, Louis XI, and—in spite of her entreaties and tears in their behalf in the Marché de Vendredi—were publicly beheaded in the first year of her brief reign.
Shortly after the untimely death of this princess whose popularity might have held the communes in check, her husband, Maximilian, began the long war that finally resulted in establishing his authority over all of Flanders. This accomplished, he established his daughter, Margaret of Austria, as Regent and during the twenty-three years of her wise and gentle reign the country remained for the most part at peace and its commerce and prosperity returned.
It was during the struggle with Maximilian that the Rabot was constructed at Ghent, in 1489. The previous year the Emperor Frederick III, father of Maximilian, had threatened the city at this point, where its fortifications were weakest, and the two famous pointed towers were built as part of the protective works designed to render a similar attack impossible. Although somewhat mutilated in 1860, the twin towers still stand, and with the curious intervening structure constitute one of the finest bits of military architecture of the fifteenth century that has come down to us. Historically, they form a monument of the victory gained by the commune over Frederick and his son in their first attempt to curtail its liberties and privileges.
On the 24th of February of the year 1500 the city of Ghent learned that a baby boy had been born at the Cour de Princes, to its sovereigns, Philip the Handsome and Joanna of Spain, who was destined to become the most powerful monarch in the world. On the day when this fortunate baby was baptised with the name of Charles, the city gave itself up to rejoicings that might well have been tempered had it known the fate that was in store for it at the hands of its illustrious son forty years later. As it was, joy reigned, and at night ten thousand flaming torches flared, the great dragon in the belfry spouted Greek fire, and on a rope suspended from the top of the belfry to the spire of St. Nicholas a tight-rope dancer performed prodigies of skill for the cheering crowds that thronged the streets below.
Fifteen years later, when Charles was declared of age, it was at Ghent that he was proclaimed Count of Flanders. The following year he became King of Spain, and in 1520 Emperor; thus at the age of twenty ruling over all the Netherlands, Germany, Austria, Northern Italy, Spain and the vast empire in the new world—then in course of conquest by Pizzaro, Cortés and the other Spanish conquistadores. While the city’s most famous son was advancing to the zenith of human power and wealth, its own fortunes were steadily declining. The long contest with Maximilian and the competition of England had struck a death blow to the cloth industry, which languished for a time and then gradually decayed and disappeared. The Cloth Hall was therefore left unfinished, which accounts for its insignificance as compared with similar structures in other Flemish towns where the textile trade was far less important than that of Ghent in the days of its greatest prosperity. The city continued, however, to be the centre of the grain trade as before, and the fine façade of the Maison des Bateliers (House of the Boatmen’s Guild), on the Quai au Blé, was built at this epoch, in 1534.
Photograph by E. Sacré. MAISON DE LA KEURE, HOTEL DE VILLE, GHENT.
A still more notable structure, the Hotel de Ville, dates in part from the time of Charles. This edifice in reality comprises a group of buildings erected at different epochs and for diverse purposes. Architecturally the most beautiful of these is the Maison de la Keure, which forms the corner of the Marché au Beurre and the rue Haut Port, extending for most of its length on the latter somewhat narrow street. This was designed and built by Dominique de Waghenakere of Antwerp and the famous Rombaut Keldermans of Malines, and was erected between 1518 and 1534. The actual edifice represents only a quarter of the fine design of the architects and lacks an entire story with various decorative features which would have greatly improved its appearance and made it one of the finest Hotels de Ville in Flanders. As it is, this part is by far the best of the entire structure. The Maison des Parchons facing the Marché au Beurre was built in 1600 to 1620 and is in the Italian Renaissance style and vastly inferior to the fine Gothic structure of a century earlier. The other portion of the building comprises a Hall for the States of Flanders, in the ruelle de Hotel de Ville, built in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries; the grande conciergerie joining this to the earlier Gothic Maison de la Keure and built in 1700; and a Chambre des Pauvres built by order of Charles V in 1531, of which the present façade dates from 1750.
The inner rooms of this collection of buildings, of different ages and different architectural styles, are of relatively minor interest. The Grande Salle de Justice de la Keure is somewhat imposing with its large fireplace, but its lack of other decorations makes it rather cold and gloomy and we were glad to leave it. Much more beautiful is the Salle de l’Arsenal, built half a century later. In the Chapel of St. John the Baptist, which adjoins the Salle de Justice in the most ancient part of the edifice, and is now used as a Salle des Mariages, is a fine picture representing Marie of Burgundy begging her people to forgive Hugonet and Humbercourt, her two ministers who—despite her tearful pleas—were executed in the Place Ste. Pharaïlde hard by.
On the death of Margaret of Austria the Emperor appointed his sister, Marie of Hungary, Regent of the Netherlands. The steady decline of its trade and the increasing poverty of the people caused the city of Ghent to seethe with discontent, and in 1539 an outbreak occurred that gave the Regent great alarm. Under the leadership of a group of demagogues the Métiers or lower associations of artisans, overawed the magistrates and seized Liévin Pyn, an aged and honourable member of the Council and Dean of the Métiers who was unjustly accused of giving the Queen Regent a false report on the situation and of having stolen the great banner of the city. This unfortunate old man was subjected to fearful tortures in the Château des Comtes, but resolutely refused to confess to any of the acts charged against him. Nevertheless, he was finally executed on the Place Ste. Pharaïlde—one of the most pitiful and unjust of the many cruel tragedies enacted there. Broken and weakened from the tortures to which he had been subjected, he had to be carried to the place of execution, where his indomitable spirit was such that before bowing before the axe of the executioner he sternly reproached his judges with their cowardice, and predicted that the people would soon have occasion to regret the fatuous course they were pursuing.