Until the thirteenth century the houses were constructed of wood; brick or stone being used for the first time in the erection of the ecclesiastical buildings of that period. The beautiful façade of Notre Dame, with its delicate tracery of windows and arches, elegant turrets and carved stone work; the grand old Hotel de Ville, from the balcony of which the Flemish rulers were proclaimed, the picturesque gabled fronts of the old houses, these yet remain to tell of past glories. Dante on his travels visited Bruges; it is one of the four Flemish cities mentioned in his Purgatorio. His description of the dykes tra Guzzante e Bruggia corresponds exactly with the topographical conditions of that vicinity. Caxton spent a great part of his thirty-six years residence on the continent at Bruges. Six of the earliest specimens of the newly-found art were printed there, and when he sailed from its port on his return to England, he carried with him a freight more valuable than gold, the first printing-press. Erasmus declared Bruges to be: "A most famous city, possessed of men of learning, and many who, if not learned, are quick-witted and sound in jugdment. I am tempted," he says, " to live at Bruges, if I can find snug quarters there and agreeable company." Bruges had reached the zenith of its prosperity; its rise had been slow, but its decline was swift. In the sixteenth century, under its Spanish rulers, it fell into great misery; pauperism prevailed, the once busy marts were comparatively deserted, the warehouses were empty, the quays without ships. Wars, civil and religious, contributed in great measure to this altered state of things; still more, the discovery of America and the opening of a new road to India. Commerce sought new paths and ports; moreover, Bruges lost access to the sea, through the decrease of water in the Zwijn. That estuary, never very deep, could no longer float vessels drawing much water, and ships of two hundred tons could no longer penetrate into the town. Calvinists overran the Low Countries; armed burghers at the closed gates saved the churches from pillage, for the people of Bruges remained staunch Catholics, although the authorities allowed Anabaptists and Calvinists to preach their new doctrines. For six years the party of William of Orange was in power, during which time William caused the Franciscan friars to be whipped and banished, the Catholic leaders to be arrested, the bishop cast into prison, and the public exercise of the Catholic religion prohibited. The altar pieces were daubed with whitewash, the chapel of St. Basil robbed of its gold and silver vessels; the costly shrine adorned with precious stones shared a like fate, the relic itself being hidden in the house of a private individual until the storm of fanaticism passed over. When the submission of the city was accepted, peace was restored by Alexander Farnese, the Prince of Parma. No estimate can be formed of what ecclesiastical art and literature lost by the havoc of the so-called Reformation. On the Catholic revival in Europe three new houses of religious men were founded in Bruges; one of these being a Jesuit College. The year after the great plague of London (1665), the same scourge fell on Bruges. It is said that no fewer than 20,000 of its inhabitants perished. The clergy who visited the pestilence-stricken had to carry in their hand a red wand, called peste-stok, to warn passersby to avoid them. A wave of persecution once more swept over Bruges at the time of the French Revolution. The church of Notre Dame was almost demolished; the pavement torn up, the stained glass broken, the beautiful flamboyant stalls which lined the choir carried away; every kind of havoc was done, only bare walls left standing. As we have said, the precious relic was concealed for a quarter of a century; until then it had been exposed for veneration every Friday. When tranquillity again prevailed, the venerable edifice was restored. Through the causes we have mentioned, the population of Bruges was reduced, in the early part of the last century, to 43,000, Now, as the poet Wordsworth says: "In Bruges' town is many a street The grass grown pavement tread." But a halo of past glory still lingers round the ancient city, and despite its small, though increasing, population, it covers a considerable area. Its ramparts are five miles round, and only the leisurely visitor can know it as it deserves to be known. The meditative stroller will ever discover fresh beauties; new points of view from which the three striking and dissimilar spires of the belfry, the cathedral, and Notre Dame are seen at their best; silent canals along which the swans sail stately amid the water lilies; grassy quays and wonderful old houses with crow-stepped gables, inscribed with far-cff dates in beaten iron. As he leans over some ancient bridge beneath the shade of convent or Godshuise, and listens to the carillon sounding high in air afar off, he may think that the supposed melancholy of "Bruges le morte" has been somewhat exaggerated. For Bruges has recently begun to feel a revival of commercial ambition. Not satisfied to sit "stately and sad" amid canals that mirror her thrice-famous spires, she is desirous to become once more a busy centre of trade. She is, in fact, once more cutting her way to the sea, access to which she lost four or five centuries ago. Besides, in these days of easy locomotion, pilgrims in increasing numbers flock to adore the sacred relic which it is her pride to possess. The processions take place with the same solemnity as of old, and are concluded with a most impressive ceremony. The blessing with the holy relic is given from a temporary altar erected on the Bourg to the assembled multitude, the drums of the massed bands sounding at the moment of benediction, and the soldiers standing with drawn swords. ABBOT GASQUET'S NEW BOOK. BY ETHELRED TAUNTON. HOME few years ago in England, at a clerical meeting, a prominent ecclesiastic read a paper upon what he was pleased to call "The Catholic Presentment of History." I have always been at a loss to know exactly what is meant by such a term. I know what history means; and I know, alas! too well, how it has been prostituted by parties for the sake of gaining con. troversial victories. I have read so called Catholic histories; I have read also what are known as Protestant histories. History is truth; and truth needs no qualification. Of course a Catholic should understand certain matters and their real meaning in a way that a non-Catholic writer cannot be expected to know; so the former will be able to detect tendencies and trace effects back to their real causes. Beyond this, as a mere investigator of facts and criticiser of documents, there is nothing on the score of religion that gives the advantage to the Catholic over the non-Catholic. I am speaking plainly. When one writer, timid and forgetting that human nature is the same everywhere and at all times, hides or glosses over what is unpleasant, he presents just as much a distorted picture of the truth as does the blatant and virulent opponent of the Church who gloats over the failings and shortcomings of Catholics, and holds them up as the sum of all history. The suppression of truth suggests falsehood; and bad effects are bound to ensue from such immorality. It is a fatal policy to set before the world the spiritual aspect of the Church as the sole one. She has as well a human side-a very human side-which must be taken into full consideration. The true idea of the Church, that is, of the Church as she really is, can only be gained by an adequate comprehension of both aspects. To hide one hinders our vision of the other. A day will come when the truth will out; perhaps it will be rudely forced upon us by an enemy instead of a friend. Is there not always a danger of reaction, as from a shock, when we find that things are not what they seem, and that we have been deceived by those whom we trusted as guides and teachers of truth? And this may go far further than to human things only. But, thank God, there is a better spirit abroad; though the danger is always present. Cardinal Manning, towards the end of his life, apprehended this truth. He spoke to Leo XIII., in 1883, of the timidity of certain historians. "If the Evangelists," said he, "did not conceal the sin of Peter and the fall of Judas, neither ought we to conceal the sins of bishops and of other personages." "There are some," he also remarked, "who would like to leave all such matters out of the Gospels as not being for 'edification."" As though real spiritual life can be built up on falsehood instead of on God's truth! Another English cardinal, Newman, makes weighty remarks on the matter: "Here another great subject opens upon us, when I ought to be bringing these remarks to an end. I mean the endemic perennial fidget which possesses us about giving scandal; facts are omitted in great histories, or glosses are put on memorable acts, because they are thought not edifying, whereas of all scandals such omissions, such glosses, are the greatest" (Historical Sketches, II., p. 231). There is no need, of course, that history should be a mere gathering of scandals, or that these should be dealt with for scandal's sake. But when a period in history cannot be understood without dealing plainly with events painful to vanity or esprit de corps, when a disastrous effect cannot be explained without probing the cause to the bottom (probing is always painful to the probed and often to the prober), then I say, in the name of the God of Truth, go on fearlessly. The result will be more wholesome, and will tend to a radical cure of a disease far better than hiding up a festering sore which affects the whole body. Some five or six years ago I was brought face to face with certain historical problems in our own history. Why was the English hierarchy allowed to lapse, and why did the English people finally turn against the faith of their forefathers? Most writers had burked the question, and were evidently afraid to deal with it. The matter was attracting attention outside the Church as an important part of English history that required |