With its sweet air.”
Some of the city bells, in another chamber above, are of inconceivable size, one of them being 15,000 pounds in weight. Whilst we were in the room, two of the Mechlin “youths” came in to ring the peal, which always sounds before sunset; and although the one they selected was the third or fourth in point of size, and they set it in motion by means of a lever, worked with the foot, it occupied from seven to ten minutes before they succeeded in producing an oscillation so great as to make the tongue of the bell strike the sides. On the outside of the tower, at this height, is a dial for the clock; a circle, the same size of which, is designed in small stones upon the pavement of the square below, connected, I think, with a sun-dial; I paced it and found it upwards of forty feet in diameter, although its counterpart on the tower looks to be of the ordinary size, such is its extreme elevation. The guide who conducted us to the top, pointed out a balcony from which a watchman, who is always stationed aloft to look out for fires, fell, a short time ago; he was taken up below, as our informant said, “as soft as a pack of wool.” The tower and its bells are a distinct and separate erection from the church, although united to it, and belong to the corporation of the city—a remnant of the olden time, when every free city had its “belfry.” This corporation seems still to have absolute power within their bailiwick, and not to exercise it with due “discretion,” they prevented the passage of a canal, from Louvain through their streets, which would have been of most signal advantage to their trade; and, more recently, they stoutly and successfully resisted the government in bringing the central depôt of the railroads within the circuit of the city, instead of fixing it, as they have been compelled to do, at some distance beyond its boundary—a circumstance which they now sensibly regret.
The church itself is dedicated to St. Romoald, whose body, enclosed in a suitable shrine, is deposited upon the high altar. In the choir, a chapter of the Golden Fleece was held in 1491, at which Henry VII of England was invested with the insignia of the order. In the curtain wall of the choir, to the left of the altar, there is rather an interesting monument of the family of the Bertholdi, a powerful house, who in the thirteenth century, having been entrusted with the office of “Protector” of Malines, by the Prince Bishop of Liege, to whose dominion it was attached, succeeded in making themselves independent of their Sovereign, and for some generations, held absolute authority as Lords of Malines. The inscription on their tomb is quaint and poetical:—“Trium Betholdorum, qui sæculo decimo tertio Mechliniæ dominarunt hic ultima domus.” There are numbers of other marble monuments of ancient Archbishops and prelates of Mechlin, but none of them so interesting as this.
There is a curious series of old paintings, illustrative of the actions of St. Romoald, which are attributed to Van Eyck, and are, at all events, referable to his period and school; an inscription relates, that in the sixteenth century they were hidden, to elude the fury of the Iconoclasts; and another records their second removal in 1794 or 5, “tempore perturbationis Gallorum,” to escape the equally formidable insanity of the French revolutionists.
This church has, also, a magnificent picture of the Crucifixion by Vandyke; but, however astonishing in its vigorous excellence, and in the conception of its individual parts, its comparison, as a whole, with that of Rubens’ Descent from the Cross, or his painting of the same subject in the Museum at Antwerp, will sufficiently exhibit the superiority of the latter in the art of composition. Like a perfect drama, into which no character is admitted, that does not contribute to heighten the denouement, there is no figure or expression in Rubens’ picture, that has not an immediate reference to the main action of the moment, and that does not conspire to concentrate all the interest in one simultaneous movement. In Vandyke’s Crucifixion, however, the three crosses form three distinct episodes, each tells a separate story, and thus divides the interest of the subject, instead of working it up into one overpowering sensation, as Rubens does. But, on the other hand, this splendid picture exhibits all Vandyke’s masterly powers of individuality and detail, every figure is a study, and above all, the beautiful Magdalene at the foot of the Cross, is one of the most lovely conceptions that has ever been embodied upon canvass. Sir Joshua Reynolds says “this may be justly considered one of the first pictures in the world, and gives the highest idea of the genius of Vandyke.” The agony of the dying thief may be strongly suspected of being suggested by Rubens. The Cathedral possesses one of the very finest carved pulpits in the Netherlands, representing the conversion of St. Paul, in which the terror of the horse, and the fall of the rider, are exhibited with the most surprising vigour and effect.
In another church, that of Notre Dame, there is a picture by Rubens of the miraculous draught of fishes, which with its volets once formed eight subjects, which he painted in ten days for the chapel of the Poissonniers. The entire were carried to Paris, and only five returned. Another of his favourite pictures is the Adoration of the Magi, in the church of St. John, of which he used to say, “c’est à Saint. Jean de Malines, qu’il faut aller pour voir de mes beaux ouvrages.” I must say, however, that it did not afford me the same pleasure, which it must have done to the great painter himself. The sacristan showed us an autograph receipt of Rubens for 1800 florins, for this picture and its volets, all of which he painted in eighteen days. It bears date in March, 1624. The altar of the church was likewise designed by him, and the walls are covered with a profusion of paintings, the works of artists of minor eminence, and whose merits, though they would be recognized elsewhere, are unfavourably brought into contrast with those of their great master.
We dined at one of the most comfortable and clean hotels I have seen in Belgium, that of St. Jacques, in the Marché aux Grains, and returned, by the railroad, to a very inferior one at Brussels, though much more pretending.
CHAPTER III.
LOUVAIN—WATERLOO AND NAMUR.
Scenery around Louvain—The Belgian railroad system—Peculiar adaptation of the country—Policy of Government interference in their construction—The average cost per mile—Causes of the difference in outlay between Belgium and England—Cheap rates of travelling in Belgium—Accidents—Success not yet decided—Louvain—Its extent—THE UNIVERSITY OF LOUVAIN—Its former fame—Its present condition—The bierre de Louvain—The great brewery—Its processes—Amazing consumption of beer in Belgium—Its different characters—The Hôtel de Ville—Its pictures—Gallery of M. Vanderschreick—The collegiate church of St. Pierre—Legend of Saint Margaret of Louvain—Tomb of Justus Lipsius—Flight of the “brave Belges,” at Louvain in 1832—Singular change in the character of the people for courage—The present soldiery—Terveuren—The park and palace of the Prince of Orange—The Forest of Soigné—WATERLOO—The Belgic Lion—Its injury to the field—Irish anecdote—Bravery of the Irish troops at Waterloo—Hougemont—The orchard—Relics of the fight—The Duke of Wellington’s estate—No monument to him on the field—The Duke of Marlborough—La Belle Alliance—Quatre Bras—The woods cut down—Beautiful scenery of the Meuse and the Sambre—Namur—My Uncle Toby—The citadel—Don John of Austria—The cathedral—The church of St. Loup—The trade in cutlery—THE DESCENT OF THE MEUSE—Its beauty and its wealth—Andennes—History of Mr. Cockerill—His influence on the manufactures of Belgium—His print-works at Andennes—Ruined by the revolution—The manufacture of paper in Belgium—Huy.