Belgium, Vol. 1 (of 2)

by Sir James Emerson Tennent

BRUSSELS.

The railroad—Confusion at Malines—Country between Ghent and Dendermonde—Vilvorde—The palace of Laeken—First view of Brussels—The Grand Place in the old town—The Hôtel de Ville and Maison Communale—The new town—The churches of Brussels—The carved oak pulpits of the Netherlands—St. Gudule monuments—Statue of Count F. Merode—Geefs, the sculptor—Notre Dame de la Chapelle—The museum—Palais de l’Industrie—The gallery of paintings—The Library—Its history—Remarkable MSS.—Curiosities in the museum of antiquities—Private collections—Rue Montagne de la Cour—The theatre—Historical associations with the Hôtel de Ville—Counts Egmont and Horn—The civil commotions of Philip II—The fountains of Brussels—The Cracheur—The mannekin, his memoirs—Fountain of Lord Aylesbury—Dubos’ restaurant—The hotels of Brussels—Secret to find the cheapest hotels in travelling.

We again availed ourselves of the railroad from Ghent to Brussels, starting from the Monk’s Meadow at eight o’clock in the morning, and made the journey in about three hours and a half. The route is considerably increased in length, owing to the line making an angle in order to traverse Malines, which has been made a centre at which every branch of the entire system converges and take a fresh departure. This arrangement may be a convenience to the directory, but it is an annoyance to the public, not only by the extension of the distance they have to travel, but by the scene of bustle, confusion, and risk created by the concourse of so many trains at the same point, the nuisance and danger of which can hardly be exaggerated; engines bellowing, horns sounding, luggage moving, and crowds rushing to secure their places in the departing train, or to escape from being run over by the one coming in.

The aspect of the country was, in all directions, the same—tame, but rich and luxuriant, with vessels toiling along its tributary canals, and here and there the Scheldt making its tortuous windings through long lines of pines and alders. One thing strikes a stranger as singular in this province, the almost total absence of pasture land, and the appearance of no cattle whatsoever in the fields, the ground being found to be more valuable under cultivation, and cattle more economically fed within doors. The railroad passes by some pretty but unimportant villages, such as Wetteren and Auderghem, before arriving at Termonde, more familiarly known to us as the Dendermonde of my Uncle Toby’s military commentaries. At Auderghem, a road turns to the right to Alost, one of the most flourishing towns of East Flanders, and a prosperous seat of the flax and linen trade.

After passing Dendermonde, we entered the province of Brabant, at the little village of Hombech, and the train, after traversing Lehendael (the Valley of Lillies), stopped at Mechlin, whose towers had been visible long before reaching the station. One of the most conspicuous objects here, is an immense brick building, erected in 1837 or 38, for the purpose of spinning linen yarn, but never having been applied by its proprietors to that purpose, has lately been purchased by an English gentleman, Mr. Fairburne, to be converted into a manufactory of machinery, a department of manufacture which, in the present state of of Belgium, I much fear is not likely to prove more encouraging.

From Malines to Brussels, the distance is fifteen miles, and was performed in something less than half an hour, the road lying through broad meadows and more extensive pastures than any I have yet seen in Belgium. On the left, these plains swell into a gentle hill of some miles in length, on which the towers and steeples of Brussels are discernible long before we approach them. Within a few miles of Malines, we passed Vilvorde, an ancient place, but now only remarkable for its vast prisons, which are seen at a considerable distance. It was at Vilvorde that Tindal, the first translator of the Bible into English, was burned for heresy in 1536.

Before arriving at the termination of the journey, the road sweeps along between two gentle elevations, that on the left being covered with the villas and pleasure-grounds of Schaerbeek, the Hampstead of Brussels, and to the right, with the woods and palace of Schoenberg, near the village of Laeken, a favourite residence of King Leopold. It was built in 1782, by the Archduke Albert, for the sister of the unhappy Marie Antoinette, and to serve for the future residence of the Austrian governor of the Netherlands. It suffered during the saturnalia of the French revolution, when a lofty tower, which rose above the woods that surround it, was torn down and sold for the price of the materials. Napoleon was partial to the palace as a summer retreat, and it was whilst lingering here with Marie Louise, that he completed the final and fatal arrangements for the invasion of Russia. It is handsomely, rather than magnificently furnished, but the grounds and gardens, which have all been re-modelled in the English style, are amongst the most beautiful in Europe, and command extensive views of the broad wooded campagne of Brabant, and the cheerful heights and gothic towers of Brussels.

The first sight of Brussels, on approaching it from the side of Malines, is well calculated to give a favourable impression of its beauty and extent, the long planted line of the Allée Vert, terminating at the handsome gate d’Anvers, (formerly the Porte Guillaume, before the change of dynasty), with its dark iron balustrade and gilded capitals, and in front, the steep acclivity covered with streets and buildings of the modern and more elegant town, whilst the turrets of the Hôtel de Ville and the towers of St. Gudule are equally conspicuous, rising above the roofs of the ancient city which nestles at its base. The city itself, though of remote antiquity, has nothing very antique in its first appearance, and, in fact, it is only in the narrow alleys and passages of the lower quarter that the mansions and municipal buildings of the former nobles and burghers of Brabant are to be discerned. Even here there are fewer architectural traces of the magnificence of the middle ages than in almost any other of the great cities of Belgium. The Grand Place is a splendid exception to this observation, as it is surrounded on all sides with lofty old Spanish-looking houses, in the style, at least, if not of the date of the palmy days of Brabant, its high peaked roofs bristling with tiers of little grim windows, its pointed gables covered with bas-reliefs and carvings, and the ample fronts of its mansions richly decorated with arabesques in stone, which had once been gaudily coloured, and here and there tipped with gold. On one side starts up to a surprising height the gothic tower of the Hôtel de Ville, by far the most beautiful in the Low Countries, and on the opposite one is a vast gloomy-looking building, now converted into shops, which was once the Maison Communale of the city; and being rebuilt by the Infanta Isabella, in the early part of the seventeenth century, was, in commemoration of the deliverance of Brussels from the plague, dedicated to Notre Dame de la Paix, with an inscription, which is still legible, though much defaced: “A peste, fame et bello libera nos Maria pacis.”

It is in the narrow and dingy passages of this lower town, that a stranger feels all the associations of the olden time around him; but on ascending by the steep and precipitous streets to the modern quarter, with its light and beautiful houses, its open squares and gardens, with their fountains and statues, and all that is French and fashionable, the charm of association is gone, and one feels something like coming suddenly into the daylight from the dim scenery of a melodrame. To the stranger in Brussels there are, therefore, two distinct sets of objects of attraction. In the new town there are the palaces of the King and the nobles, the park, the public promenades, the chambers of the Senate and the Commons, the splendid hotels of the Place Royal, and the libraries and museums that occupy the château which was once the residence of the Austrian viceroys; whilst in the old town, there are the churches of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, with their superb oak carvings, stained windows and statuary, the Hôtel de Ville, the gloomy old mansions of the past race of nobles, and all the characteristic memorials of the ancient capital. The first are speedily disposed of by the tourist, as there is nothing unique in any of the lions of Brussels, its inhabitants are, in fact, anxious to have their city considered a miniature Paris, and it seems to have been laid out altogether on the model of the French capital, with its boulevards and its palace gardens, its opera, its restaurants and its “café des milles colonnes.”

The churches, are, as usual, splendid specimens of gorgeous altars, (with their ponderous candelabra and Madonnas in embroidered petticoats,) solemn aisles, marble columns, painted ceilings, Flemish pictures and carved pulpits, so flowing and graceful in their execution, that they look as if the Van Hools and Van Bruggens of former times, possessed some secret for fusing the knotted oak and pouring it into moulds to form their statues and their wreathes of flowers. Their Pulpits are, in reality, one of the wonders of the Netherlands, they are of immense dimensions, some of them reaching almost as high as the gothic arches which separate the nave from the side aisles. The lower department usually represents some appropriate scene from the events of sacred history, the expulsion of Adam and Eve from Paradise, Elijah fed by ravens, the conversion of St. Paul, with the frightened horse most vigorously introduced, or Christ calling Peter and Andrew, who are represented in their boat by the sea-shore, with their nets and fish, all exquisite specimens of the art; and, occasionally, the designs are allegorical, with figures of Time, Truth and Christianity. Above these, usually rises a rock, or a mass of foliage and flowers, on which are perched birds and other accompaniments, and on this rests the shell of the pulpit, the whole is then surmounted, either by a canopy sustained by angels and cherubims, or by the spreading branches of a palm tree, so arranged as to overshadow the whole. Almost every great church and cathedral in Belgium contains one of these unique productions of an art which is now almost extinct, or, at least, possessed of no practitioners at all qualified to cope in excellence with these ancient masters. The confessionals, altars and organs are likewise elaborately covered with these almost unique decorations, and even the doors and windows sometimes exhibit specimens of extraordinary beauty and value.