_In West Flanders_
With the names of many places in the province of West Flanders, the
despatches of war have acquainted us. Battered Audenarde; proud Ypres,
held first by the Germans and then so long and so stubbornly by
Haig’s men; Dixmude; the Yser Canal that flowed crimson to the sea;
Nieuport, Westende, Middelkerke, leveled like wheat before the mower;
Ostend, whose leisurely crowds were scattered before the gray tidal
wave that swept across these lowlands, leaving a swath 70,000 acres
broad of ruined farms and villages. It is proposed not to attempt
the resurrection of the city of Ypres, but to leave as they are the
shell-torn walls, the cluttered streets, and the wreck of the superb
Cloth Hall, with its massive reach of wall and roof and belfry, as
a place of pilgrimage in years to come. In the thirteenth century
Ypres flourished as a cloth-weaving center, with a population of
over 200,000. At the beginning of the World War it had about 18,000
inhabitants, most of whom were engaged in the making and marketing of
Valenciennes lace.
No one that roams today the quaintly narrowed streets of Bruges, or
stands upon its many bridges gazing upon the green of quiet waters,
where swans drift and storied towers cast their shadows, would guess
that traders from far Novgorod and the cities of Persia, from Spain and
all the countries of Europe once animated its highways. Every ruler,
every industry, every craft and art that contributed to the dowering of
Bruges left upon it some well-graved mark, which Time has not erased.
In the old quarters--and there are few new ones--there is scarcely
a street that does not offer some reward to the sight-seeker--some
fretted casement or sculptured entrance-way, some gracefully designed
structure that has a special story of its own, and gives shelter to
works of art beyond price. Rising benevolently above the great square
is the quadrangular belfry tower, as lofty as it is historic, that
Longfellow has made familiar to us all.
[Illustration: Copyright Underwood & Underwood