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 But the veil of mourning that so long enveloped the city is withdrawn to let in the sun of hope and renewed good fortune.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.
