Bruges, Belgium
If it's Sunday it must be Belgium. Yesterday we were in the Netherlands and tomorrow we will be in France, where – it is relief to note – we will stay for a full week. But even in France the kaleidoscope of cultures that has characterized the history of Europe will continue. We shall encounter Normans and Gascons, Bretons and Basques, the latter two peoples speaking distinctive languages quite unrelated to the Romance family. In Europe we have to distinguish between nation-states, often quite recent – when the United States declared its independence from Britain, Germany and Italy were merely geographical expressions – and peoples with long memories and entrenched particularisms. Belgium, the nation-state is historically new, being conjured into existence in 1830 for balance of power considerations, largely by the British who would not countenance the occupation of Flanders by either Catholic France or Protestant Holland. The Low Countries, ran the traditional dictum of the British foreign office, are "like an arrow pointing to the heart of England." The Thames approaches would be made safer by being flanked by Belgium, a new country with an invented dynasty garnered from an obscure corner of the German realms, its neutrality guaranteed by the Treaty of London. To create Belgium, the Walloons of northern France, speaking a dialect of French were amalgamated with the Catholic Dutch who call themselves Flemings. Belgium is thus a bilingual country - French/Flemish - but a predominantly Catholic one.
Hence the two spellings of our destination this afternoon, Bruges (in French) – the preferred English usage – and Brugge (in Flemish), a name that originated in the Norse word Brygge, meaning quayside or landing-place. In the thirteenth and fourteenth century Bruges was the economic capital of north-west Europe, its wealth deriving from control of the mediaeval wool trade, the original staple product. Its warehouses were served by a network of canals, its churches decorated by the finest artwork from such masters as Hans Memling. Monastic foundations were attracted to the city, serving it by brewing ales. The silting of the river Zwin in 1604 brought decline and has uniquely preserved this mediaeval gem for posterity. Horse-drawn wagons no longer trundle woolsacks through the city streets – today's cargo is more likely to be tourists – but the breweries are still in existence producing some of the world's finest beers. Sampling these was our introduction to the gastronomical kaleidoscope that complements the linguistic and religious loyalties of Europe – and capable of stirring up just as much passion!
If it's Sunday it must be Belgium. Yesterday we were in the Netherlands and tomorrow we will be in France, where – it is relief to note – we will stay for a full week. But even in France the kaleidoscope of cultures that has characterized the history of Europe will continue. We shall encounter Normans and Gascons, Bretons and Basques, the latter two peoples speaking distinctive languages quite unrelated to the Romance family. In Europe we have to distinguish between nation-states, often quite recent – when the United States declared its independence from Britain, Germany and Italy were merely geographical expressions – and peoples with long memories and entrenched particularisms. Belgium, the nation-state is historically new, being conjured into existence in 1830 for balance of power considerations, largely by the British who would not countenance the occupation of Flanders by either Catholic France or Protestant Holland. The Low Countries, ran the traditional dictum of the British foreign office, are "like an arrow pointing to the heart of England." The Thames approaches would be made safer by being flanked by Belgium, a new country with an invented dynasty garnered from an obscure corner of the German realms, its neutrality guaranteed by the Treaty of London. To create Belgium, the Walloons of northern France, speaking a dialect of French were amalgamated with the Catholic Dutch who call themselves Flemings. Belgium is thus a bilingual country - French/Flemish - but a predominantly Catholic one.
Hence the two spellings of our destination this afternoon, Bruges (in French) – the preferred English usage – and Brugge (in Flemish), a name that originated in the Norse word Brygge, meaning quayside or landing-place. In the thirteenth and fourteenth century Bruges was the economic capital of north-west Europe, its wealth deriving from control of the mediaeval wool trade, the original staple product. Its warehouses were served by a network of canals, its churches decorated by the finest artwork from such masters as Hans Memling. Monastic foundations were attracted to the city, serving it by brewing ales. The silting of the river Zwin in 1604 brought decline and has uniquely preserved this mediaeval gem for posterity. Horse-drawn wagons no longer trundle woolsacks through the city streets – today's cargo is more likely to be tourists – but the breweries are still in existence producing some of the world's finest beers. Sampling these was our introduction to the gastronomical kaleidoscope that complements the linguistic and religious loyalties of Europe – and capable of stirring up just as much passion!
