BELGIUM THE BRAVE

By RUTH KEDZIE WOOD, Author and Traveler

MENTOR GRAVURES

THE CLOTH HALL, YPRES

PALACE OF JUSTICE, BRUSSELS

DINANT-ON-THE-MEUSE

MENTOR GRAVURES

“A COUNTRY FAIR,” BY TENIERS

FLOWER MARKET, BRUSSELS

CHIMNEY PIECE OF THE FRANK, BRUGES

THE TOWN HALL, LOUVAIN

Undamaged by war, this exquisite edifice, “more an encrusted casket than a building,” rears its delicate pinnacles above a scene of destruction

Entered as second-class matter March 10, 1913, at the postoffice at New York, N. Y., under the act of March 3, 1879. Copyright, 1920, by The Mentor Association, Inc.

Before the windows of my cottage, facing the level beach of La Panne, there came very often in the summer of 1913 a monarch, tall and blond, and nearly always he was the center of a joyous group of youths and children. Three of the group were his sons and his daughter; six slim youngsters called the Emperor of Austria grandfather. During the long summer afternoons the friends laboriously erected and recklessly demolished sand forts and barricades amid the tufted dunes, while laughter and the clamor of mimic assault disturbed the peace of the strand. Sometimes I wished that the children of the King of Belgium and their cousins, the grandchildren of the Austrian emperor, would find another place to play their war games! I could not know that before the year was out three of these care-free companions would be playing the game in earnest—one of them in the ranks of the invaders.… That fishing sloops of La Panne, lying aslant on the beach or spreading their deep-hued sails to the North Sea wind, would within a twelve-month be consumed by monsters of the deep. That soon the wide smooth shore would be a tenting-ground for Belgian soldiers swept back from Antwerp. That neighbor villages would be fenced with arms. That only a few square miles of his country would be left to the dauntless King of the Belgians.

ON THE WAY TO BRUGES

This canal scene is typical of the water routes that connect Bruges with the seaports of Zee-Brugge and Ostend

On Belgian Roads

Traveling the roads of Belgium on foot or by steam tram, by slothful barge, or by the very efficient railways of the Belgian Government, we come upon many a picture of odd-fashioned roofs and mirroring water-streets, of city squares and gilded cornices, of farm cots scattered like sheep across the downs, of corpulent windmills busy at their grinding, of canal-boats moving among the flat Flemish fields, of soil-stained men and women tending crops of sugar-beets, flax and grains.

South of Flanders and Brabant, wide sea-freshened vistas give way to murky landscapes and cities that bristle with the spires of industry. Here, settlements of coal miners, steel workers, glass makers, cotton spinners, fill the foreground of the scene. Most of the factory people belong to the robust and spirited race of the Walloons, who live near the eastern and southern frontiers. Their Celtic ancestors occupied the valley of the Meuse (meuz) long before the Christian era. Among themselves they speak a dialect bequeathed by the Romans. Officially their language is French, just as the Flemish tongue, of “Low Country” origin, is the recognized language of the Belgians of the north.

FLAX WORKERS ON THE RIVER LYS

In the country surrounding Courtrai, Ypres, Ghent, flax is extensively grown to supply the demand for linen. Here we see it in the process of “retting” in the river, to rot off the woody bark and stems

The Walloons are like the French in many ways. They have quick wits and a ready command of forceful phrases, they are clever workmen, and they have an immense enthusiasm for one of their kind that displays a gift for art or music. We came one evening to a small manufacturing town near Liège (lee-ayzh), metropolis of the Walloon country, and found the main street dressed with flags and lanterns. The town hall was illuminated, a procession was forming, and there were crowds waiting at the railway station. “Yes,” said the hotel proprietor, “it is a fete day—for the people of Dolhain. We celebrate the return of one of our boys, the son of a cobbler, who has received at the Conservatory of Liège the first prize for violin.”

THE CASTLE OF WALZIN

One of the most romantic chateaus of the Ardennes, erected on a cliff above the River Lesse, in the 13th century

The Rise of Belgian Industry

Belgium’s story, as complex in pattern as the tapestry of Flemish looms, is interwoven with the bright threads of genius, and, no less, with the gold of commerce and the crimson threads of war. Proud mistress of the arts as Belgium can claim to be, she has held her own for centuries past as a vigorous industrial nation. Tribes that came across the Rhine after Caesar’s conquest of the Gauls, 57-52 before Christ, were permitted by the Romans to settle upon the lands that extended from the basin of the Meuse River to the sea. For ten centuries they diligently tilled the soil, and as diligently fought encroachment. About the year one thousand, the Counts of Flanders, whose holdings constituted one of nine Belgian principalities, fortified the towns of Bruges, Ghent, Courtrai and Ypres (broozh, gent [A], koor-tray, eep-r), and protected them with stout walls. The granting of civic charters spurred these Flemish communes to greater activity, and cloth markets were established in each walled town. It seems clear that before any race of northern Europe the Flemish turned from the plow to the counting-house, from the farm to the crafts-shop. Bruges was the most influential financial city north of the Alps, until its leadership was wrested by Antwerp and then by Ghent in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Brussels, the seat of ruling princes and an important trading-station on the route from Bruges to Cologne, boasted a population of fifty thousand persons as long ago as the year 1500. Liège and Mons (monz), even then, were noted for their metal industries.

[A] g and e as in get.

THE STEEL WORKS OF OUGRÉE

On the bank of the River Meuse, between Liège and Seraing

But the very advantages that contributed to the material advancement of Belgium were responsible for the invasions that times without number reddened her soil and enslaved her people. The territory occupied by the Netherlanders (“the people of the low lands,”—the Belgians and the Dutch) lay in the track of all the envious and ambitious nations of Europe. One war succeeded another until, in the year 1830, the Belgians freed themselves of their final and most irritating yoke by successfully employing arms against Holland. At last the Belgians’ country was their own. And now a new Belgium came into being. “Only one common trait,” says a student of Belgian history, “connected the men of the two epochs—the capacity for work.” The exploitation of the coal mines of Seraing (se-ran) and Hainaut (hay-no), the discovery of iron mines, the establishment of great foundries and manufactories, followed the consummation of national independence. A system of railways was organized that had no superior in Europe. The internal waterways of the country—the rivers, canalized rivers and canals—aided in the transportation of manufactures, land products and imports to the extent of millions of tons a year.

HEYST

A fishing village and summer resort on the North Sea coast, near Ostend. At low tide the beach is a moorage for trawlers of the fishing fleet

THE CITY OF LIÈGE

From a print made in the year 1659

In the revived prosperity of Belgium, her kings played a vital role. Under Leopold the First, a favorite uncle of Queen Victoria of England, a constitutional monarchy was established that was a model of democracy. The taxes were light; only a small standing army was maintained. The neutrality of the nation had been guaranteed by the Treaty of London after the close of the war with Holland. “Freedom reigns among us, without flaw and without infringement,” declared a patriot-orator, forty years ago. Leopold the Second, who came to the throne in 1865, advanced the agricultural, manufacturing and maritime interests of the realm, and, a short while before his death, brought the Congo Free State, over which he had held sovereignty for twenty years, under the Belgian flag. With the acquisition of a colony eighty times as large as the kingdom itself, Belgium became the dazzled possessor of a treasure land of mines, arable acres and profitable forests. Rail and water transportation were promoted by Belgian and foreign companies, eager to enjoy the rich opportunities of the African colony, and hundreds of trading-houses sprang up to handle the Congo’s yield of palm oils, copal, rubber, cocoa, copper, gold, diamonds and ivory.

Upon the death of his uncle in 1909, King Albert fell heir to the most densely populated domain in the world. Over seven million people inhabited a country comprising about eleven thousand square miles. If all the people of the New England States were crowded within the bounds of the State of Vermont, conditions of life would be comparable with those of the little kingdom of Belgium. Its rulers, King Albert and his consort, Queen Elizabeth, youngest daughter of the benevolent Duke Charles of Bavaria, have always kept very close to the hearts of their subjects, and have never permitted the exacting ceremonials of the court to usurp time set aside for the consideration of the country’s intimate needs. The daily picture of their “little Queen” driving to and fro among the charitable institutions of Brussels is a sight familiar to the people. The Belgians are frank to say that, should the monarchy ever become a republic, Albert and Elizabeth would be elected the President and First Lady of the land. Each inhabitant contributes one franc a year toward the support of the King, the Queen, Prince Leopold, Prince Charles, and Princess Marie José.

CHATEAU OF THE COUNTS OF FLANDERS (’S GRAVENSTEEN), GHENT

Begun in the 9th century, occupied by the Counts of Flanders in medieval times, it is now restored and open to the public

Belgian Thrift

With the active support of the State, provident societies and savings banks exist to foster habits of thrift. A co-operative society, “The People,” in Ghent, has a membership of many thousands of families. It operates a bakery, a bank, a theater, and numerous stores and mills. “The Peasants’ Union” owns assets valued at ten million dollars. Trained advisers are employed by the Union to travel among the farmers and suggest improved methods of raising crops and livestock. In point of individual savings, Belgium held a place high on the list of nations before the War.

Belgium was a veritable hive of contented, thrifty workers before the German hordes crossed her borders. And today, after more than four years of exhaustive warfare and abysmal suffering, the nation is again rising to renew her forces, just as, so often in the past, she has been constrained to rise and gird her industrial armor on after long periods of oppression and abuse. In 1914 there were but five other countries whose foreign trade was greater; in her output of steel, glass, railway rolling stock, beet sugar and textiles, she could hold her own with bigger rivals. Half her people were engaged in manufacturing and allied pursuits, and half in the cultivation of the soil. Antwerp, “safest harbor on the Continent,” ranked next to New York among the ports of the world.

MONUMENTS ON THE BATTLEFIELD OF WATERLOO

When King Albert returned to his capital after a tragic exile, this is what he found: the Government railways, interurban lines and canals almost entirely out of commission; the harbor of Antwerp closed; three hundred thousand subjects homeless; scores of factories totally destroyed or too badly damaged to operate; and sixteen hundred coke furnaces, so vital to the manufacture of steel, completely demolished. The national debt had more than quadrupled, and eight hundred thousand laborers, through enforced idleness, were receiving their support from the Government.

A LACE WORKER

In a community of nuns, Bruges. The long-armed stove and the fireplace are characteristic of most Flemish cottages.

The Redemption of Belgium

The unconquerable Belgians, in whom burns the indomitable flame of the Belgae of old, are already winning against these seemingly insuperable odds. Homes have been built by the aid of the King Albert Fund, which has expended up to the present time about ten million dollars for this purpose. The Government has lent an immense sum to householders and manufacturers for the rebuilding of their own dwellings and factories. Thousands of carloads of machinery have been recovered from Germany through a well-organized “recuperation service,” authorized by the Peace Treaty, and many mills, dismantled or destroyed by the enemy, are running on part or full time. A large proportion of idle workmen have found occupation at wages higher than they received before the War. Nearly all of the one hundred steamship services leaving Antwerp for world ports have resumed sailings. The thousand miles of railway lines destroyed by the invaders are now relaid, and traffic is approaching normal. All this, some of it with the financial aid of America, has been achieved within a few months after the cessation of the most destructive warfare in history. Belgium’s withered acres and ravaged towns are rising like the phoenix, reborn through fire.

From a photograph by A. V. Onslow

A FAMILY OF WALLOON PEASANTS

At tea in the harvest field

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.

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

A MILK WAGON

On a road in Flanders

Half-way across Belgium, midway between Liège and Ostend, the capital of the kingdom invites us to enter its gates. Brussels had its beginning in a settlement of the sixth century which occupied an island in the marshy River Senne. The river, ever a troublesome stream, is now confined within viaducts, and the city has climbed the heights above its hidden banks. The dwellings of warrior tribes and the castles of the mighty Dukes of Brabant are supplanted by the substantial buildings of a center of present-day life. For the well-kept beauty of its streets and open spaces, for its air of solid content and well-contained vivacity, for its handsome store-houses of ancient and modern art, its massive but harmonious architecture, its tempting shops and markets, and the alluring grace of its medieval roofs and towers, Brussels exacts universal admiration. Fortunately, her fine streets and buildings escaped the vandalism that blighted or razed many other Belgian communities. There is not space here to narrate the tragedy of Brussels under enemy domination. Encouraged by a staunch-hearted King, the city is fast resuming its former activities. Many of the great families of the nation, resident in Brussels, have been impoverished. Treasure places have been sacked. There are indelible lines of grief on the faces one sees in the street. But the veil of mourning that so long enveloped the city is withdrawn to let in the sun of hope and renewed good fortune. Beleaguered Brussels will soon be herself again.

THE BELFRY OF BRUGES

“In the market-place of Bruges

Stands the belfry old and brown;

Thrice consumed and thrice rebuilded,

Still it watches o’er the town.”

—Longfellow

Of all places one goes to see, none has a greater appeal to the imagination than that rare old square in Brussels called the Grand’ Place. It has been the scene of barbarous deeds of the Middle Ages; martyrs and heroes have met their death here; and knights and damsels, dukes and ladies have passed days in “skilful jousting” beneath its painted façades. Ranged about its four sides are the halls dedicated to Middle-Century guilds—the Hall of the Sea Captains, the Archers’ Hall; at the corner of Butter Street, the Hall of the Bakers; the Hall of the Painters; the Hall of the Grease Merchants; the graceful House of the King, and the Weigh House. More elegant than these, with their gilded lace-like gables, slender pinnacles and suggestively romantic doorways, is the Gothic Hôtel de Ville, or City Hall, with a tower 370 feet high, and a history that goes back to the year 1400. A gracious picture, indeed, is this redolent square when Flemish peasant women drive in at dawn and under the flame-tinted spires unload their baskets of flowers and garden vegetables and their shining copper cans. When the market hour has passed, they go by the Street of the Mountain to worship in the twin-towered Cathedral of Ste. Gudule and St. Michael, which stands up impressively above the lower town.

“THE GREEN QUAY,” BRUGES

The belfry rises at the right

In the quarter dominated by the cathedral is the Royal Palace, the official residence of the Court; and the majestic white Palace of Justice, “the largest architectural work of the nineteenth century,” which cost ten million dollars to build and contains nearly 300 court rooms and apartments. The Conservatory of Music, in a neighboring street, has had many pupils and teachers whose names are familiar to all lovers of music—the violin masters, Vieuxtemps, Wieniawski, César Thomson, Ysaye (a native of Liège), and Alphonse Mailly, the organist.

Outside the limits of the city, beyond the canal that connects Brussels with the sea, is the extensive Park of Laeken and the established residence of the King and Queen. Another excursion out of Brussels takes us to the battlefield of Waterloo, where the forces of the English and the Prussians defeated the French, June 18, 1815, and made an end of the all-conquering career of the great Napoleon.

Malines, Antwerp, Ghent

On the road to Antwerp we digress a little to visit the very old Flemish town of Louvain (loo-van), whose name was early written into the history of the War through the ruthless destruction of the library of the University—two centuries ago the most distinguished seat of learning in Europe. The Town Hall, moreover, has always been given first place among all the ornately beautiful halls of the nation.

Malines (mah-leen), called Mechlin in Flemish, betrays wounds inflicted during three weeks’ bombardment. It has wide fame for its lace and its cathedral pictures, and for its amazing clock tower. When it was begun in the year 1452, the architect of the tower intended to make it “the highest in Christendom”; but he never reached what we may call the height of his ambition. The square, unfinished structure rises magnificently 318 feet above the street, but does not approach by 200 feet the lofty tower of the Cathedral of Ulm, in the kingdom of Württemberg.

THE CATHEDRAL OF ST. ROMBOLD, MALINES (MECHLIN)

Height of the tower, 318 feet

THE WATERFRONT, ANTWERP

The Cathedral of Notre Dame in the center background

The site of Antwerp, fifty miles inland from the North Sea, on a wide curve of the Scheldt (skelt), has been coveted and assailed, built and rebuilt upon since the dawn of European civilization. No city has a more affluent history, nor one that contains gloomier chronicles of siege and warfare. Its wharves and its narrow streets, bulked by the over-watching citadel and the flamboyant tower of one of the finest churches in Belgium, are teeming with wharfmongers and brokers, dealers in diamonds and ivory, lace-makers, flower vendors, factory-workers. One sees many artists, too, for the Academy of Antwerp is attended by hundreds of students, attracted to the “city on the wharf” by the unequaled opportunities presented for the study of Flemish masters, ancient and modern, whose works are exhibited in the Cathedral of Notre Dame and in the vast galleries of the Royal Museum of Fine Arts.

INTERIOR OF THE LIBRARY, UNIVERSITY OF LOUVAIN

Its store of irreplaceable manuscripts and books (230,000 in number) were wantonly burned by the Germans. The University, also destroyed, was revered for its association with the names of Erasmus, Justus Lipsius, and other renowned scholars

In the sixteenth-century rooms of the master printers, Christopher Plantin and his son-in-law, John Moretus, we examine the yellowed manuscripts of aspiring authors of that day; presses and proof-sheets; wood-cut designs by Rubens, and the original shop where generations of printers turned out excellent books by grant of the Crown, including the precious and far renowned Polyglot Bible.

Of Ghent, “the City of Flowers,” Maurice Maeterlinck its poet-son has written, “It is the soul of Flanders, at once venerable and young. In its streets the past and present elbow each other.” The citizenry of Ghent, from remote times, have been reputed for their independence and impetuous resource to arms. Many of the branching canals which connected it with Bruges, Courtrai, Tournai, Antwerp and Brussels have now silted up, but a comparatively modern ship canal leading to the Scheldt and the sea gives the bustling old city communication with the ports of the world. Freed of the Germans, Ghent is once more treading the looms of industry. Once more tourists will come to look upon one of the chief glories of Flanders, a turreted stronghold of ninth-century foundation, with towers and buttresses, winding stairs, dungeons, donjon and banqueting hall associated with the exploits of crusading knights and the patrician counts of Flanders. The most precious example of primitive Flemish painting, “The Adoration of the Lamb,” by the brothers Van Eyck, had for centuries hung in the noble Cathedral of St. Bavon, before it was sent by the Germans to adorn the Berlin Museum. Under the terms of the Treaty of Versailles, this masterpiece, with all others stolen by the enemy, becomes once more the property of the Belgians. Most attractive are the communities of white-coiffed, blue-garbed nuns who live in spotless little houses, and devote their lives to the making of fine lace and embroidery. And greatly revered by native Ghenters is the soaring belfry tower from which Freedom’s alarms have so often rung out across the Flemish Plain.

THE SHORE AT OSTEND

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.

KING ALBERT AND QUEEN ELIZABETH OF BELGIUM

SUPPLEMENTARY READING

THE SPELL OF BELGIUM	By Isabel Anderson
THE SPELL OF FLANDERS	By Edward N. Vose
BELGIUM OF THE BELGIANS	By D. C. Boulger
THE BELGIANS AT HOME	By Clive Holland
VANISHED TOWERS AND CHIMES OF FLANDERS	Written and illustrated by George Wharton Edwards
THE HEART OF EUROPE	By Ralph Cram
BELGIUM	Text by Hugh Stokes; illustrations by Frank Brangwyn
BELGIUM	By Brand Whitlock
BELGIUM, LAND OF ART	By W. E. Griffis
CONTEMPORARY BELGIAN LITERATURE	By Jethro Bithell

⁂ Information concerning the above books may be had on application to the Editor of The Mentor.

THE OPEN LETTER

Courtesy, Collier’s Weekly

RUINS OF THE CLOTH HALL, CATHEDRAL, AND TOWN HALL, YPRES

Compare this picture with Gravure No. 1. Both were photographed from about the same spot. As may be seen, the devastation wrought by the War is almost complete. The main façade of the great Cloth Hall had a frontage of 433 feet; the square bell tower was 230 feet high

From the earliest times the Belgae have been known as a hardy, courageous and determined people. Julius Caesar had as much trouble in his day in subduing them as the Kaiser had with their descendants in the first year of the World War. Caesar came into conflict with the Belgae when he was campaigning for the conquest of Gaul in 57 B. C., and it was only after long fighting that he crushed them. Even then they refused to remain in subjection. In a few years several of the Belgae tribes revolted, and had to be dealt with anew. When the Roman Empire was reorganized under Augustus, the Belgae were included in the province of Gallia Belgica, which extended from the west bank of the Rhine to the North Sea and south to Lake Constance.

Julius Caesar wrote, in his history of the Conquest of Gaul, “Horum omnium fortissimi sunt Belgae,” which, freely translated, means that “the Belgae were, all around, the bravest” of the races that the Roman Conqueror met in the Gallic wars. Caesar was a man of cool, clear judgment, not averse to giving a doughty foe due credit, and several trying experiences in fierce encounters with the Belgae had afforded him a just measure of their fearless, intrepid qualities. His appraisal of their valor has had full confirmation in our day—with all the peoples of the earth, but the Huns, sympathetic witnesses.

The attitude of the nations toward “Belgium the Brave” has probably found no more glowing expression than in the eloquent tribute of Mr. Hugh Stokes, in his recent book on the Belgians. “To an indomitable race,” he exclaims, “civilized mankind offers a silent homage. A new meaning has been given to the inspiration of patriotism. And, in showing us how death can be despised Belgium rises to a new life and an immortal glory among the nations.”

W. D. Moffat
EDITOR