The Prince permitted the greater part of the garden and park to be used by the people of his little town, but Belœil was so out of the way that strangers never went there. I use the past tense, because the château has been razed to the ground since the war began. I also learn that two members of the de Ligne family have been killed.
In order to carry out our plans we had to leave Belœl in the heat of the early afternoon. Motoring out again across the rolling landscape we came to Mons, passing on the way through some of the de Croÿ properties and forests. This region is the great coal-mining district, the Borinage, and the beauty of the scenery is rather spoiled by the huge, conical mountains of the detritus which is brought out of the mines, and by the black, sooty look of things.
Mons was a dull, quiet old town, rather picturesque in its way, with its old church and belfry crowning the hill. As we came out of the church the chime of bells in the tower musically rang the hour, sounding sweetly in the sleepy silence of the place. The stillness has since been broken by other sounds than those, for Mons figured largely in the battle of the Meuse.
From there we were off once more to visit the ruins of the old château of Havré, once the stronghold and residence of the de Croÿ family. It rose high out of a stagnant moat, all gray and pinkish, with irregular architecture and a tall tower with a bulbous top. From this rose the cross of Lorraine, for the de Croÿs quartered their arms with this great family. The château was quite stately and magnificent, and its courtyard, all grass-grown, must have seen fine sights in its day.
Not far from Mons is Binche, a town celebrated for its carnival held on Mardi-Gras—the festival of the Dancing Gilles. In spite of the fact that it has always been a source of much pride to the Belgians, its only unique feature was that of the Gilles, which distinguished it from other carnivals.
These Gilles, or dancing men, were characterized by their headdress and humps. The former was most striking and elaborate, resembling in shape the old top-hat of our great-grandfathers, and surmounted with magnificent ostrich feathers three or four feet long, giving the wearers the stature of giants. From each hat, besides, flowed wide, variegated ribbons. The trousers of a Gille were bedecked with trimmings of real lace, and ribbons matching those on the hat. About the waist was a silk belt from which hung small bells. Each Gille wore a mask.
The entire outfit cost from forty to fifty dollars, which was a large sum for the peasant youths who were generally chosen by the carnival committee. But the honour of being a Gille was so great, since only good dancers could be selected, and carried with it such prestige among the local damsels, that the young men were only too pleased to make the necessary financial sacrifice.
On the afternoon of Mardi-Gras the Gilles, in full uniform and preceded by the local brass bands and musical clubs, appeared in procession and marched, two hundred strong, to the Grande Place, dancing to the music of the band. At every few steps they stopped, bending this way and that to make the bells at their waist ring more effectively. Their streamers floated to and fro with every motion, enveloping them in a rainbow of ribbon. The simultaneous ringing of bells and thumping of wooden sabots on the cobblestones sounded like the echo of a cavalry charge.
Each Gille had a straw basket hanging from one side of his belt and filled with oranges, with which he bombarded the spectators as he danced along, men appointed for the purpose following close behind to see that the baskets were kept filled. A general battle of oranges between Gilles and carnival merrymakers ensued, lasting till the procession reached the town hall. In front of this, on a platform, sat the mayor and his officials, and here the Gilles terminated the day’s festivities by a sort of war dance which gave them a chance to show what they could do.
The public joined in the fun, and soon thousands of persons—men, women and children—were gaily waltzing around the Grande Place. The sight of an entire population in carnival costume and masked, dancing in the open air to the music of the bands, was not one to be easily forgotten. The sport continued till late evening, when it was brought to an end by the mayor, who formally awarded a gold medal to the Gille who had proved himself the most expert dancer of them all.