The Spell of Belgium Part 16

A shudder ran through the giant's body, a frightful rattle burst from his chest; his teeth chattered like the clas.h.i.+ng of swords, his eyes rolled once more in their b.l.o.o.d.y orbits, and then closed forever. He was dead. Frega knelt on the ground and prayed. Upon that spot rose Antwerp.

Now Antwerp is the Antwerpen of the ancient Flemish language, which still preserves its original strength and richness in its Saxon garb--Antwerpen, in which word the chroniclers find Hand and Werpen, to throw, in remembrance of the giant Antigon and the hands which he threw into the Scheldt.

II

YVON BRUGGERMANS: A LEGEND OF THE ANTWERP CATHEDRAL

When you approach the old Flemish city, built upon the banks of the Scheldt, in one of the finest situations of Europe, the first object which attracts the attention of the traveler is the great spire of the Cathedral. This "Heaven-directed" spire is one of the loftiest and finest in the world. It is a masterpiece of pyramidal construction, delighting the vision not more by its vast height than by its exquisite proportions. It is surmounted by a cross of a size corresponding with the edifice itself. The Antwerpians are justly proud of their antique cathedral, which occupies the first rank among the monuments of Europe; if time and s.p.a.ce permitted I would give you a sketch of its beauties, but many others before me have described its elegant marble statuary, chapels, confessionals, altars, choirs, and above all the chef-d'oeuvre of the immortal Rubens. Before the grand entrance, which so plainly shows the imprint of time, observe this blue marble stone, inlaid with several small pieces of bra.s.s, scattered promiscuously and seeming to form a mysterious design, which irresistibly excites one's curiosity. This monument marks the historical and fatal spot where the event occurred which I am about to relate.

[Ill.u.s.tration: SPIRE OF THE CATHEDRAL, ANTWERP.]

The 22d of October, 1520, was a day of fetes and rejoicing in all the cities of Flanders, for on that day a Fleming, Charles V, was crowned at Aix-la-Chapelle. The rich and powerful city of Antwerp, whose merchants were opulent as princes, displayed all its luxury and splendour to honour its new Caesar. The day commenced with prayers in all the churches and finished with national games of every description upon the public squares, and processions of artisans preceded by the banners of their several professions. The streets resounded with songs and repeated cries of "Vive l'Empereur Charles!" and as the night approached the night became more dense and noisy, for before the Hotel de Ville immense casks were placed, which poured forth floods of wine and beer that helped to increase the enthusiasm of the citizens of the good city of Antwerp.

But above all sounded the glorious peals of the silver chimes from the old cathedral, as if it wished to add its voice in a hymn of praise to the young Emperor whose reign commenced under such auspicious circ.u.mstances.

There were nevertheless in the city many sad hearts, as upon all such occasions there are many who cannot partic.i.p.ate. At the window of one of the largest but poorest lodging houses of the Kamerstraet, known by the sign of a large Red Lion, stood a young man whose desponding and sorrowful air contrasted strongly with the joyful bands that pa.s.sed under his window. It was evident that he took no part in the general rejoicing. The room in which he was, although showing that scrupulous Flemish neatness, presented an appearance of extreme poverty. A miserable pine bedstead, curtains of blue linen, four old chairs, and an old oak table comprised the furniture of the room. The whitewashed walls were devoid of ornament, except the image of the Virgin, before which burned a small wax candle. Upon the bed reclined a woman whose pale, wan face, deep-sunk eyes, livid lips, and forehead covered with premature wrinkles (she being still young) wore the marks of serious physical and mental suffering. The silence which reigned in the room was broken by the invalid.

"Yvon, my son," said she, "come to me; but what do I see, tears?"

"Alas, Mother, how can I keep them back? I cannot help you; the fever has so weakened me that I am unable to work. Hardly can I lift a hammer.

I could not bear the heat of the forge. I am as weak as a child."

"My poor child, the fever has paralyzed your strength as well as mine, but the will of G.o.d be done."

"Amen," responded the son. "It is hard nevertheless to struggle against sickness and poverty. If tomorrow we do not satisfy the demands of the landlord we shall be turned into the street. If I were the only one to suffer!"

"My son, I have seen your father and your three brothers die with this merciless fever, and with them perished all my happiness. But in the midst of my suffering I have always said, G.o.d has given them to us and taken them from us. Blessed be his name. And in this submission to his will I have found my only consolation."

The young man sighed but made no reply. At this moment a tumultuous noise of steps arose from the street. It was a procession. The corporations of tanners and joiners were pa.s.sing.

"Now come the painters with the image of St. Luc, and now, oh! I see the blacksmiths and lockmakers carrying the banner of St. Eloi."

Poor Yvon looked sorrowfully upon his former companions, happy in their strength and health, when suddenly he drew back from the window and rapidly closed it as if he would shut out a fatal vision.

"What is it?" exclaimed his mother, alarmed at his sudden pallor.

"Marie has just pa.s.sed with her father and Master Verachter, the rich jeweler of Ziereckstraet."

The poor mother tenderly caressed him, without speaking. She seemed to fear to encourage by the least word this sorrow she knew to be without hope.

Yvon sat a long time at the bedside, his face hidden in his hands. He recalled his early days, joyous and without care, his affectionate father and brothers, the winning voice of his mother, who instructed them in their early duties, and the young Marie, the constant companion of his youthful plays, whom one day he hoped to call his wife. He had nearly served his apprentices.h.i.+p at the forge with his father when this fatal epidemic broke out, to which his father and brothers fell victims, and he himself and his mother barely survived. But the blacksmiths of the city refused to accord him the right to continue his father's business, as he had not fully worked out the required time. That very morning he had heard a neighbour, who came to visit his mother, say that the hand of Marie, which had been the secret of all his efforts and thoughts, had been promised by her father to the rich jeweler of Ziereckstraet. He had not believed it, but the sight he saw from the window confirmed all his fears, and he remained in deep reverie for a long time.

He was startled from it by the sounds of a violent tempest which had suddenly broken upon the city. The merciless blast from the North Sea swept over it, spreading destruction in its course. Everywhere was heard the falling of tiles, the cras.h.i.+ng of gla.s.s from the broken windows, the uprooting of trees, and the distant noise from the river, whose swollen waters were overflowing its banks. Yvon approached the window; darkness reigned everywhere, the rain fell in torrents, and had extinguished all the torches and lights of the streets.

During all this long October night the storm raged with unabated fury; towards morning it subsided, and when day broke it had pa.s.sed, leaving all the country inundated. As the disasters of the city were insignificant compared with those of the country the inhabitants consoled themselves with the reflection that others had been more unfortunate than they. It is often thus that we console ourselves. Those who pa.s.sed in the vicinity of the cathedral saw with regret that the great cross which surmounted the spire had been struck by the lightning, and was so bent that at any instant it might fall. This cross had cost so much work and care to place it so high! The news spread rapidly, and soon the Grande Place before the cathedral was crowded.

In those times, when the love of art reigned supreme, each Flemish city possessed its monument. Ghent boasted its gigantic belfry, surmounted by its Byzantine dragon brought from the crusades; Louvain, its Gothic Hotel de Ville; Bruges, its old parks and public buildings; while Antwerp glorified itself justly in its cathedral, of which no one dared to contest the superiority as a work of art and architecture. All the citizens viewed this sight with consternation, and asked each other anxiously who would be the individual bold enough to attempt such a perilous enterprise. The sound of a trumpet was heard and two heralds on horseback appeared on the Place. Silence being established, one of them read with a slow and loud voice the following proclamation:--

[Ill.u.s.tration: CATHEDRAL, ANTWERP.]

"To the good citizens of Antwerp!--We, the Burgomaster and Aldermen of the city, make known that we have resolved to give five hundred golden crowns to the person who will reestablish the iron cross in its ancient position on the cathedral tower. _Five hundred golden crowns!_ Citizens!

Whoever desires to obtain this munificent reward will present himself immediately before the Council now a.s.sembled at the Hotel de Ville."

There was a moment of silence. Each one waited to see who would accept, but no one advanced. The heralds were about to retire, to read elsewhere their proclamation, when the crowd suddenly opened and gave pa.s.sage to a young man, who precipitated himself resolutely towards the Hotel de Ville. Every eye was turned towards him with curiosity. He was of extreme beauty, although emaciated, but from his eyes shone forth manly resolution and courage. The crowd anxiously waited the result. A few minutes only had pa.s.sed when the heralds reappeared to read a second proclamation:--

"To the good citizens of Antwerp!--We, the Burgomaster and Aldermen, make known that Yvon Bruggermans, blacksmith and free citizen, has engaged before us this 23d day of October, 1520, to reestablish our iron cross in its position upon the tower of the cathedral tomorrow with the aid of G.o.d. Consequently, we order all who may be present to refrain from distracting the attention of the said Yvon Bruggermans, by cries, charms, or malicious interventions, but on the contrary to give him all the a.s.sistance which he may need for the accomplishment of his work in the name of G.o.d and the Holy Virgin."

When the time arrived, Yvon, clothed in his holiday suit, approached his mother's bed and with an animation which she had not seen in him for several months, embraced her and asked her blessing.

"Where are you going, my son? You are dressed in your holiday suit, and the fetes are over."

"I go to look for work, dear Mother," answered he, trying to hide his agitation. "I feel my strength return, and I can no longer bear the misery of our situation. Take courage, Mother, I feel the certainty that a better future is before us."

"My child, take care to do nothing beyond thy strength. Think that all the riches of the world will be nothing to me if I lose thee."

"And you, my Mother, are you not for me the entire world? I would give my life willingly to insure your happiness. But time pa.s.ses; bless me, dear Mother."

"May the benediction of G.o.d be on thee and on thy designs, now and forever. Amen," said his mother gravely with her eyes raised to heaven, and with her right hand upon the head of her kneeling son.

After a last embrace, he left with a firm and resolute step. The most trying proof was past, and he felt his courage and hope revive. He soon arrived at the Grande Place, where an immense crowd was a.s.sembled. All eyes were turned upon him with an expression of pity and regret, and voices murmured in his ear words of encouragement, sympathy and hope.

But Yvon, avoiding as much as possible every species of emotion, advanced without answering, traversed the crowd, and entered the cathedral. He approached the altar, which was decorated as if for a fete, and kneeling, recited with fervour this prayer:

"Lord of Heaven, I risk my life not to gain a miserable sum of money, but to save my mother; preserve me, then, for the love of her, or if it must be that I die, permit me to accomplish the work I have undertaken.

Father all-powerful, I place my soul in thy hands."

He then rose and proceeded with a firm step towards the door of the spiral steps which lead to the summit of the tower. As he ascended he saw through the loopholes the crowd increasing, until all the neighbouring roofs, windows and balconies were filled; everywhere a sea of heads. He arrived at last at the end of the steps. After having thrown a glance of admiration over the country, he turned his gaze toward the city. At his feet he distinguished the sign of the Red Lion.

He thought of his mother, then turned toward the dwelling of Marie. The remembrance of her animated his courage, for on his success depended the only chance he had of obtaining her hand, and he prepared himself to finish the most perilous part of his undertaking. Before him rose this long, perpendicular spire, the summit of which he must reach without any other means of ascent than the crevices between the stones. He attached to a strong rope the brazier and tools which he had brought to work with, fastened this firmly around his waist, and after crossing himself devoutly commenced his perilous ascent.

The crowd watched him as he slowly mounted. Deep emotion filled every breast. Not a sound was heard until he arrived at the summit and stood immobile at the foot of the cross. Then burst forth a universal cry of admiration. He lighted his brazier and actively commenced his work, attaching firmly to the cross one end of the rope, of which the other encircled his body. The mult.i.tude saw the great cross rise slowly and by degrees under the repeated blows of the hammer, and with every stroke his strength appeared to increase.

Fifteen minutes had hardly pa.s.sed when cries of enthusiasm saluted the cross completely restored. His first thought was an aspiration of grat.i.tude to heaven, the second was for his mother. Then he thought with an emotion of indescribable joy of Marie, who would be his, for her father certainly could not refuse, when he should have the five hundred golden crowns obtained in such an heroic manner. His happiness was at its height, and fearing that his emotion might prove fatal, he crossed himself and prepared to descend, but before doing so he threw a last glance over the crowd. He saw them separate to give pa.s.sage to a wedding cortege, which advanced towards the cathedral. Attracted in spite of himself, he regarded attentively all the members. He noticed a young girl dressed in white as a bride leaning on the arm of an old man. He supported himself at the foot of the cross and leaned as far as possible to a.s.sure himself of the reality of his fears--his eyes distended, his face livid, and his whole body trembling with emotion. They glanced upwards to see the young workman who had raised the cross--Yvon gave a cry of agony, for this bride was Marie, and at her side the old jeweler Verachter of Ziereckstraet! The shock was too violent for his spirit exhausted by so many struggles. He fainted--his hands dropped the support which held him, he remained an instant immovable--then fell. But the rope which was around him remained fixed to the foot of the cross, and he was for some minutes suspended in s.p.a.ce. The crowd who had seen his fall with terror believed him saved, but the rope had touched the lighted brazier, and soon the body of the unfortunate Yvon fell a disfigured and bleeding ma.s.s in the midst of this brilliant wedding cortege, at the feet of the bride.

The next day a deputation of magistrates of the city went to carry to his mother the five hundred golden crowns, the price of the blood of her son. But the chamber was empty. A coffin was placed in the middle of the room. Death had spared the poor mother this great affliction. Yvon was buried on the spot where he fell, and the blue stone, with the bra.s.s encrusted in the marble, alone indicates the place where lies the body of the young blacksmith.

III

FRuGGER THE MISER

I

One evening in the year 1552, the bells of the numerous churches and chapels of the pious city of Antwerp were heard calling the faithful to divine service, to pray for the repose of the souls of their deceased relatives and friends. The heavens were obscured by black and angry clouds; the wind blew in strong gusts, accompanied by a drizzling rain.

A profound silence reigned in the obscure streets. As the greater part of the population were in the churches, one could easily have traversed half the city without meeting a living soul, except, perhaps, some tardy wors.h.i.+per, hastening to regain lost time and to arrive at the Salut, before the Tantum Ergo.

Notwithstanding the importance of the religious solemnities which were being performed in all the houses of G.o.d, and the detestable weather which drove every one from the streets, a man stood motionless before a house in the rue des Tailleurs de Pierres, enveloped in a dark cloak. He remained motionless, feeling neither the wind nor the rain, his eyes fixed on the windows, trying vainly to distinguish the least ray of light. He was young, with effeminate features, and his upper lip was shaded by a light moustache; although he endeavoured to conquer the emotions which agitated him, it was not difficult to discover by the contraction of his brows, that bitter thoughts filled him with despair.

The house before which he stood was that of a rich banker named Frugger.

After having stood there some time, he lost hope of seeing in this dwelling the wished-for object, and with that, the courage to remain longer exposed to the inclemency of the storm, so he walked slowly away in the direction of the Scheldt. While he was in the neighbourhood of the mansion of Frugger he stopped from time to time and regarded it still with the same ardent anxiety which for more than an hour had characterized his contemplation. When at last the distance and the obscurity prevented him from seeing it, the expression of his countenance became still more sorrowful.

Letting his head droop upon his chest, he sighed, "Katharina, thou lovest me no more! Thou hast forgotten me! Thou hast abandoned me! It is foolish for me to doubt it! Oh! now it is finished! I wish no longer to live! Existence becomes a burden to me."