you have sent to England without right or reason.’  Artevelde answered full softly, ’Of a surety, sirs, I have never taken a denier from the treasury of Flanders; go ye back quietly home, I pray you, and come again to-morrow morning; I shall be so well prepared to render you a good account, that, according to reason, it cannot but content ye.’  ‘Nay, nay,’ they answered, with one voice, ’but we would have it at once; you shall not escape us so; we do know of a verity that you have taken it out and sent it away to England, without our wit; for which cause you must needs die.’  When Artevelde heard this word, he began to weep right piteously, and said, ’Sirs, ye have made me what I am, and ye did swear to me aforetime that ye would guard and defend me against all men; and now ye would kill me, and without a cause.  Ye can do so an if it please you, for I am but one single man against ye all, without any defence.  Think hereon, for God’s sake, and look back to bygone times.  Consider the great courtesies and services that I have done ye.  Know ye not how all trade had perished in this country?  It was I who raised it up again.  Afterwards I governed ye in peace so great, that, during the time of my government, ye have had everything to your wish, grains, wools, and all sorts of merchandise, wherewith ye are well provided and in good case.’  Then they began to shout, ’Come down, and preach not to us from such a height; we would have account and reckoning of the great treasure of Flanders which you have too long had under control without rendering an account, which it appertaineth not to any officer to do.’  When Artevelde saw that they would not cool down, and would not restrain themselves, he closed the window, and bethought him that he would escape by the back, and get him gone to a church adjoining his hostel; but his hostel was already burst open and broken into behind, and there were more than four hundred persons who were all anxious to seize him.  At last he was caught amongst them, and killed on the spot without mercy.  A weaver, called Thomas Denis, gave him his death-blow.  This was the end of Artevelde, who in his time was so great a master in Flanders.  Poor folk exalted him at first, and wicked folk slew him at the last.”

[Illustration:  Statue of James Van Artevelde——­296]

It was a great loss for King Edward.  Under Van Artevelde’s bold dominance, and in consequence of his alliance with England, the warlike renown of Flanders had made some noise in Europe, to such an extent that Petrarch exclaimed, “List to the sounds, still indistinct, that reach us from the world of the West; Flanders is plunged in ceaseless war; all the country stretching from the restless Ocean to the Latin Alps is rushing forth to arms.  Would to Heaven that there might come to us some gleams of salvation from thence!  O Italy, poor father-land, thou prey to sufferings without relief, thou who wast wont with thy deeds of arms to trouble the peace of