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.