_The Face of Belgium_
The face of Belgium shows us many moods. Fisher villages and attractive
seaside resorts give color to the long ribbon of sand that reaches for
forty miles from the French to the Dutch border. To the east is the
low-lying country from which Flanders--“the low land”--has its name.
Beyond this expanse resembling the dike-protected regions of Holland is
a naturally sterile sandy plain that Flemish farmers have by centuries
of toil brought to a high state of productivity. Still further toward
the sunrise are the grateful hills and waving meadows of Brabant. To
the south lies the great coal and iron-bearing tract--the beautiless
but prodigally endowed region of the _Borinage_, or Place of Boring. In
the wild forest land of the Ardennes, bounded by the River Meuse and
a part of France, Luxemburg, and Rhenish Prussia, are mountains of no
great elevation but singularly romantic beauty, and lofty tree-covered
plateaus, and rivers whose banks are adorned by charming cities and
resorts. Historic Dinant (dee-nan) and Namur, often described as among
the loveliest towns in Europe, lay in the Germans’ path on the march to
the French border. The forts of Namur fell on August 21, 1914, after
thirty-six hours’ bombardment. On the following day the allied armies
suffered a momentous defeat at Charleroi (char-le-rwah), and retreated
by way of Mons into St. Quentin, France.
High among the forested ways of the Ardennes is Spa, the delightfully
pretty and--in normal times--very gay watering-place, which during
the War was frequented by visitors most unwelcome in Belgium. One of
these visitors, whose military headquarters were at Spa, has since been
almost equally unwelcome as a resident of Holland.
_Obstinate Liège_
The Meuse, flowing through verdant Wallonia, embraces, with its
tributary, the Ourthe (oort), the spacious and advantageously situated
city of Liège, whose inhabitants, since its foundation, have been known
for the sturdiness of their resistance under attack, and for their
“partiality for labor” when at liberty to pursue the walks of peace.
When Germany forced the armored door defending the kingdom of the
Belgians, and gained entrance to the roads to France and the North Sea,
another chapter--this time a chapter that required four long years for
the writing--was added to the story of war-scarred Liège.
[Illustration: A WALLOON FARMER AND HIS DAUGHTER]
One of the traditions of the city is the excellence of its weapon
manufacture. A great proportion of the two hundred thousand inhabitants
gain their livelihood by making arms and cannon. Nearby are the
colossal ironworks of Seraing, with upwards of 10,000 employees, who
turn out guns, bridges, boilers, armor-plate, ships.
“We were pounding at the anvils when they pounded at our gate;
‘Open,’ cried the German squadrons; ‘let us pass or meet your fate.
We are millions; dare deny us and Liège is but a name.’
But we chose to die in honor than to buy our lives in shame.
So we banked our eager fires, and we laid aside the sledge,
Recking only that our sires had endowed us with the pledge
To maintain an ally’s honor, to uphold the Belgian code,
And we answered with our cannon, THAT LIÈGE WOULD HOLD THE ROAD.”
_Brussels, the Capital_
[Illustration: A MILK WAGON