The Life and Letters of Ogier Ghiselin de Busbecq, Volumes 1 and 2. Ogier Ghislain de Busbecq
the tidings came, and from that very hour, he tells us, the French king determined to make peace with Maximilian. It was on the field of Guinegatte18 that George Ghiselin, Seigneur of Bousbecque, in company with nine other gentlemen, received knighthood at the hand of Maximilian. It seems certain that he was fighting on foot, with his retainers, in the ranks of the Flemish pikemen.
The scene now changes from the battle-field to the scaffold. The Flemings, as represented by their four members—Ghent, Bruges, Ypres, and the belt of villages known as the Francq—were anxious for peace with France. They had also serious grievances against Maximilian (now King of the Romans) and his ministers. They declared that the latter had misappropriated the revenues, and the former been more grievous in his exactions than Philippe le Bon or Charles the Bold.
They also objected to having German troops quartered in the country.
Early in 1488 the smouldering fires of insurrection burst into a flame. Curiously enough, Maximilian’s treatment of a friend and relation of the Busbecqs was the proximate cause of the outbreak. Adrien de Vilain,19 Seigneur of Rasenghien, had been one of the leaders of the Gantois after the outbreak in 1485. He had subsequently retired to Lille, with the approval of Maximilian, who had given him a pardon. Here no doubt he felt safe in the neighbourhood of the Ghiselins of Bousbecque and other friends; but one day he was seized by Charlot de Menneville and a party of the Count of Nassau’s archers, who carried him off, and imprisoned him in the castle of Villevorde. His relations were naturally incensed at this breach of faith, and one morning, when the warden of the castle had gone to Brussels, Vilain’s first cousin, Adrien de Lickerke, rode into Villevorde with thirteen of his friends; leaving the rest in the town, he proceeded to the castle with three of his companions, and knocked at the gate. The porter at first refused to admit them, but by dint of entreaties, backed by the offer of a handsome reward, his scruples were at last overcome. On entering, they asked for Adrien Vilain. The porter replied that he was no longer in the castle; but a glance into the court-yard disproved his words, for there was the prisoner drearily pacing up and down in his gown. De Lickerke went up to him. ‘You have been here long enough, fair cousin,’ quoth he, ‘come back with us.’ Vilain’s gown (the civilian dress), was quickly exchanged for a soldier’s doublet, and a hat placed on his head. The porter, seeing their intentions, attempted to raise an alarm, but they hustled him against the wall, and nearly killed him. Quitting the castle with the prisoner they joined their friends in the town, and taking horse rode for their lives. Avoiding Brussels, they made for Tournai, some seventy miles distant, not sparing the spur till they were in a place of safety.
Whether Maximilian had authorised the seizure of Vilain or not, at any rate he was deeply annoyed at his escape. De Lickerke was now a marked man; probably he thought that his safety lay in boldness, for he put himself at the head of 3,000 Gantois, and one wintry night (January 9, 1488) took Courtrai20 by surprise, making the inhabitants swear allegiance to Philippe (Maximilian’s infant son) and the Gantois.
The King of the Romans was at this time at Bruges, where the States were assembled to conclude a peace with France. The Gantois had committed themselves; it was time for the Brugeois to rise. On the last day of January, 1488, the guild of carpenters made the first move by seizing two of the gates of Bruges,21 those of St. Catherine and Ghent. Maximilian, with his officers, attendants, and body-guard lay at the Palace (Prinssenhof), not far from the centre of the town; with him were Pierre Lauchast, Carondelet the Chancellor, George Ghiselin, and other faithful followers.
It is difficult to say whether his best plan would have been to remain quiet, or to follow the example of Philippe le Bon,22 put himself at the head of his guard, and fight his way out of the city. Unfortunately for himself and his friends, he took a middle course. On February 1, between five and six in the morning, he marched into the market-place with his household troops. Leaving the larger portion of them there, he proceeded with his personal attendants to the gates of Ghent and St. Catherine, where he met with scant courtesy from the guard of carpenters.
Meanwhile the troops in the market-place had been standing round a huge bonfire, and it occurred to their commanding officer that it would be a good opportunity to put them through their drill. He gave the order for them to execute a German23 manœuvre, ‘Faison le limechon à la mode d’Allemagne,’ and marched them round the square in fours. Next he gave the order for them to bring their pikes to the charge; there was a crowd looking on, and, imagining they were about to be attacked, they fled in confusion and dismay. Maximilian, hearing the uproar, returned, and led his men back to their quarters. No blood had been shed, but the mischief had been done.
At twelve o’clock the same day the trades of Bruges met at their several halls, arms were served out, flags were unfurled, and columns of citizens streamed into the market-place. There they formed a regular encampment, planting their fifty-two banners, throwing up entrenchments, and arming them with cannon.
The Brugeois were now masters of the situation. On February 5, at the request of the Gantois, they compelled Maximilian to leave his palace, and lodged him in the famous grocer’s shop in the market-place, known as the Cranenburg. But the king of the Romans was not the chief object of their wrath; it was against his ministers that they vowed their direst vengeance. A reign of terror commenced; rewards were offered for the apprehension of Pierre Lauchast and others connected with the treasury. Maximilian’s friends and advisers were compelled to seek safety in concealment or in flight.
George Ghiselin had his head tonsured, and assumed the dress of a mendicant friar of the Augustin order. In this disguise he attempted to leave the city. Unfortunately he was recognised at the gate, and arrested.
Shortly afterwards he was called up for examination before the town judges, in company with Jehan Van Ninove, and a sergeant named Bontemps. The court had not sat for a full hour, when the dean of the carpenters brought a detachment of his men to the door, and threatened to break it open. The judges, seeing that resistance was useless, allowed them to seize the unfortunate prisoners, whom they straightway carried off to the market-place, and there examined after their own fashion.
The deans of the different trades had enclosed a space for the purpose of holding their consultations; in the middle of this enclosure stood a rack, specially constructed for torturing victims of different sizes. Hard by was a scaffold of unusual size, and there, waiting for his prey, stood Maistre Charles, the executioner of Bruges.
Jehan Van Ninove’s turn came first. He was frightfully tortured, his legs being actually dislocated. Whilst he was being racked, proclamation was made that he had agreed with Pierre Lauchast to bring the troops of the guard into the town for the purpose of intimidating the citizens of Bruges. Bontemps was then tortured, but George Ghiselin was respited. The unfortunate prisoners had now no doubt as to what their ultimate fate would be, and they all three asked to be executed, and forgave those who had compassed their death.
There was one listening on whose ears the words fell with no unwelcome sound; Maistre Charles24 had an eye to his fees, and determined that there should be no delay on his part. In a trice he was on the scaffold, getting out his swords and preparing his bandages. Then, louder than thunder, swelled the shouting in the market-place, some demanding their immediate execution, and some its postponement. The latter prevailed. Maistre Charles was disappointed of his prey, and the unhappy men were sent back to prison.
On February 28, the leading spirits of the insurrection being absent from the town and engaged in an attack on Middelbourg, the town judges made a most meritorious effort to save the lives of these victims of mob law. They called them up for sentence.25 Maistre Charles was again in high glee; his swords and bandages were all ready, and his palm itching for the fees. He must have been greatly cast down when the judges passed a merely nominal sentence on George Ghiselin and his companions; they were to beg pardon in their shirts of the deans, make some pilgrimages, and distribute certain sums in charity; the only object of the sentence being to satisfy the people. There was now a gleam of hope for the unhappy men; but, unfortunately, Middelbourg surrendered the same day, and the ringleaders, returning in triumph, were furious at this attempt to frustrate their vengeance. They seized the unfortunate prisoners, and racked them again in the market-place.
On the next day, February 29, 1488, Maistre Charles once more made his preparations,