Before the war broke down the barriers between them, the Belgians and Dutch were much inclined to make fun of each other. The former said their neighbours were heavy, stupid and stiff. The Dutch retorted that the Belgians were so weak they could simply eat them up if they wished.
Quite the most important social event of the Brussels year was the Fancy Fair, which was given for the benefit of some charity. It came off in February and lasted four days. I had been asked to help on the flower table, where we sold not only flowers, real and artificial, but flower stands, vases, and perfumes. The shelves and tables were covered with mauve paper and velvet, and the effect was quite pretty. The fair was much like ours at home, and most of the men were afraid to attend. Some of the diplomats discreetly sent donations with their cards. The Queen was expected, but was ill at the last moment and the Comtesse de Flandre took her place, spending ten dollars at each table.
During the winter months Belgium sees little of the sun. All through April, too, they tell you, as a matter of course, “It is to rain.” The weather is undoubtedly bad. In most countries the people stand up for their climate to some extent, but there they have to acknowledge that it is wretched. May can be delightful, as I discovered, with floods of sunshine everywhere. But even then there were cold, dreary days, and later in the month the chestnut trees turned brown and the flowers began to fade, so the spring is short enough at best.
I found the streets of Brussels always amusing, whether the sun was in or out. There were sturdy dogs pulling carts laden with shining brass and copper milk-cans, the occasional trumpet-call and tramp of soldiers, and the women selling baskets of flowers, as they do in Rome. The church bells rang at all hours, for the clocks did not any two of them agree, and were forever contradicting each other with their musical chimes.
As I have said before, Brussels was a model city, beautiful and well kept. In the center of the town was the superb Grande Place, second to none in Europe, with the Hôtel de Ville, which was second only to that in Louvain, the galleried and much-gilded Maison du Roi, and the many guild-houses of the archers and skippers and printers and merchants. I am told that this historic square has been mined by the Germans, so that all its treasures of mediæval architecture can be blown up at a moment’s notice.
A Flemish Kermesse
The Grande Place was at its best when there was a kermesse. Then the windows of the guild-halls and the long galleries of the Hôtel de Ville—the glory of Brussels—were lined with people looking down into the square. Flags streamed from the buildings, and there was good music, and groups of happy burghers were drinking their beer at little tables. After dark there was continuous illumination of the lovely spire of the Hôtel de Ville, with varying coloured lights that showed its tracery and design in beautiful, mysterious relief—an entrancing sight.
Not far from the corner of the Hôtel stood the famous little fountain figure of the Mannikin, the “First Citizen of Brussels.” He was dressed for the kermesse in his best Sun-day-go-to-meeting suit, as was proper for the occasion—a plum-coloured velvet with ruffles and embroidery, a three-cornered hat with feathers and cockade, buckled shoes, and white stockings and gloves.
The Grande Place was the civic center of Brussels. The Government buildings were grouped about a park half a mile away, with the royal palace at one end and the Palais de la Nation, the House of Parliament, at the other. Close by, on either side, were grouped the various departments and the fine houses provided for the Ministers by the Government.