"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 Béguinage, 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 Béguines, 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,—