Belgium

Did Belgium reach it’s sporting apex with the series of all-Belgian women’s Grand Slam Finals a few years back? A French speaker and a Flemish speaker staring at each other across the net? Now that’s something to ponder. (I definitely had a bias during those finals, but I’ll try not to let that shine through here. Still, I was a fan of one player, and not a fan at all of the other. Intrigue.)

Why on earth am I starting out with tennis? 21 July is Belgium’s National Day—or Fête Nationale for those on the French side of the equation, Nationale Feestdag for the Flemish. What’s tennis got to do with it?

Well, when do you ever hear about Belgium in the news? I mean, yes, it hosts the headquarters of the European Union, and the headquarters of NATO. But while you might hear about them meeting in Brussels, does that really qualify as Belgian news? In this world, sporting stardom is king.

So is chocolate. My housemate came home from a trip to Brussels with a postcard for my collection, and a bar of some very, very fine chocolate. The chocolate didn’t last long. (I have Icelandic chocolate awaiting me in my pantry now…)

So, there was Gallia Belgica under the Romans, and then Germanic tribes started moving in over the course of the 5th century. In the 14th and 15th centuries a lot of the region that comprises modern Belgium became part of the Burgundian Netherlands. Then there was rule by the Spanish and the Austrian Habsburgs, until the French Revolutionary Wars saw a lot of the region annexed to the French First Republic. In 1830 Belgium became independent.

Have another chocolate. And while you’re savouring that, may I suggest a Tintin adventure?

So, Belgium is a constitutional monarchy and a parliamentary democracy. If you find yourself in the royal court I suggest you bow to King Albert II. It’s polite.

And please, next time you see Flemish tapestries, take some time to really look at them. They’re amazing pieces of art. Speaking of art, there are plenty of major Flemish artists. And somehow I never knew that René Magritte (Ceci n’est pas une pipe) was Belgian. Ignorance on my part.

I haven’t previously read a lot of Belgian literature—I have, however, read several books by Amélie Nothomb. She’s definitely an author worth checking out. And we’ve heard of Georges Simenon, yes? (I will read him too…) Another writer I’m ashamed to say I never knew was Belgian is Maurice Maeterlinck—I expect a lot of you don’t know much about the chap. I know him best for his libretto for Debussy’s Pelléas et Mélisande: I studied it intensively before I worked on my first opera, both as a librettist and a composer.

All this talk of literature brings us to the poem portion of our celebration of all things Belgian. Today’s poem is a section of a longer work, “Linnaeus’ clock,” by the poet Werner Lambersy. It was translated from the French by Nora Makhoul, and comes from New European Poets. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: buy this anthology.

from Linnaeus’ clock

The finite and the infinite
were on the road together

One of them said
now I’ve arrived

Do you think so said the other
and he lifted his still-
too-young brother
onto his shoulders

He 
from the height of his perch
told about the road
interpreted the landscape

For the other was blind
from birth
and could only look
within himself

But that was why
the song had chosen him

   *

There’s a cry
we don’t have it

But there’s a cry
uttered by the dead
within their death

A cry so long
that those who utter it
no longer need
to move their lips or
close their mouths

So we confuse it
like a star
behind another
closer one

With the great silence
which came before

   *

May an unanswered mystery
fill and impregnate
your song

May it be a warm garment
in the sweat of those
who, for a long time, wore it

and may it speak of time but
no more than the broom bush dows

Whose seedpods scatter
in the sunlight like
holiday firecrackers. 

—Werner Lambersy
translated from the French by Nora Makhoul
from New European Poets