BELGIUM.
Belgium is a busy hive. Its people are crowded together and are
very industrious. The farmers and truck gardeners have reduced
agriculture to a fine art and the lace workers are famous for their
skill.
Nowhere did I see man's faithful friend, the dog, utilized as in
Belgium. He helps to haul the carts along the streets, and his
services are so highly prized that large dogs are untaxed, while the
small house dog, being an idler, has to contribute his annual quota
to the expenses of the government.
[Illustration: PALACE OF JUSTICE--BELGIUM]
The elegance of some of the public buildings and the beauty of the
streets of Brussels surprise one, if he has allowed himself to
judge Belgium by her dimensions on the map. Historical interest,
however, is centered, not in Brussels, but in the battlefield of
Waterloo, some miles away. In the summer time, thousands of tourists
(among whom, according to the guides, are but few Frenchmen) turn
their steps toward this field which witnessed the overthrow of the
greatest military genius of his generation, if not of all time.
The scene of carnage is now marked by an enormous artificial mound
130 feet in height and surmounted by an immense stone lion--the
Lion of Waterloo. The animal looks toward the point from which
Napoleon made his last charge and seems to be watching lest the
attack may be renewed. Wellington, upon visiting the battlefield
after the erection of this mound, is said to have complained
that they had ruined the battlefield to secure dirt for this
stupendous pile, and it is true that the surface of the earth in
that vicinity has been very much altered. In leveling the knolls
they have destroyed one of the most interesting landmarks of the
battlefield--the sunken road in which so many of the French soldiers
lost their lives. As the guide tells it, Napoleon asked a Belgian
peasant if there was any ravine to be crossed between him and the
enemy's lines, and the peasant replied in the negative; but when the
French rushed over this knoll, they came suddenly and unexpectedly
upon a narrow road in a cut about twenty feet deep, and, falling in,
filled up the cut until succeeding ranks crossed over on their dead
bodies.
The field, as a whole, might be described as a rolling prairie,
although the visitor is told of groves no longer standing. At the
Hugomond farm, the walls of the house bear evidence of the conflict
that raged nearly a century ago, and one is shown the ruins of an
old well in which, it is said, the bodies of 300 English soldiers
were buried. This portion of the battlefield reminds one somewhat
of that portion of the battlefield of Gettysburg which was made
famous by Pickett's charge, although there are but few monuments at
Waterloo to mark the places occupied by the various brigades and
divisions.
At a restaurant near the mound one is shown the chair in which,
according to tradition, Wellington sat when he was laying his plans
for the last day's battle, and you can, for a franc each, secure
bullets warranted to have been found upon the field. It is rumored,
however, that some of the bullets now found are of modern make and
that thrifty peasants sow them as they do grain, and gather them for
the benefit of tourists.
I found Europe agitated by a remark recently made by the emperor
of Germany which gave the Prussian troops credit for saving the
English and winning the day, but the French are as quick to dispute
this claim as the English. The comedians have taken the matter up
in the British Isles, and, at one London theatre, an actor dressed
as an Englishman, is made to meet a German and, after an exchange
of compliments, the English brings down the house by saying: "I beg
pardon! It may be a little late, but let me thank you for saving us
at Waterloo."
It is hardly worth while for the allies to quarrel over the division
of credit. There was glory enough for all--and it required the
co-operation of all to overcome the genius and the strategy of
Bonaparte.